Page 126 of Dead Love
EPILOGUE
one year later
The doorsto the funeral home opened. A single set of heels clicked on the tile, and I knew instantly who it was. Usually, Catie was the one who mediated between us, but without her there, Shea was stuck with me.
“Mom,” I said, opening my arms wide in a mock gesture. Shea glared at me, her arms wrapped around a skinny-limbed tree, the soil wrapped in a burlap sack.
“Where do you want this one?” she asked.
“Follow me.”
We went through the side exit to the cemetery, then over to the plot of grass to the side, where a grove of trees stood tall. A sign hung above the arch, vines clinging to the edges.Spring Renewal,it said. The same name as Kora’s new greenhouse.
Though Shea refused to believe I was her daughter’s boyfriend, when it came to the night where two people disappeared and her shop burned down, she stayed to her original story: Kora and I had been with her the whole time, comforting her about the shop. No one questioned it. We stuck with that story too.
I didn’t understand her reasons for backing us up—or, better yet, for backing me up, but I didn’t have to. She wasn’t holding it over me, but we weren’t exactly friends either. Any time she was around, it was cold and dry, like the dead of winter, but she was kind to Kora, and actually listened to her now. All it took was a little arson.
She set down the tree next to the new hole. She had stopped dying her hair and put the loose gray strands behind her ears. And though Kora kept her hair shoulder-length, Shea had grown hers out past that. So in a way, some things did change. I thought of the painting hanging in Shea’s new shop location, one she had bid on from an art auction, because the painting reminded her of her daughter. She didn’t know who had painted it, but because of her bid, the artist had won the contest. Except, no one knew who had submitted it.
Whenever I saw it in her shop, I smiled to myself. Just like I was smiling then.
“She’s still at the greenhouse,” Shea said, gesturing behind her. “She might be there forever if you don’t go rescue her now.”
“Thanks,” I said. Shea left, heading back to her new flower shop, and I drove to the greenhouse. Three young women, including the one who had been Poppies & Wheat the day I burned it down, stood before Kora in green aprons, as she listed off final training instructions.
“So, Nikki is in charge,” Kora said. “But you can always call me if you need to.”
Kora turned toward me, her shoulders relaxing as we locked eyes. The three women dispersed, leaving us by ourselves.
“Did you pack yet?” I asked. She shook her head. “But you leave tomorrow.”
“I know,” she said, laughing. “I’ll just throw in everything tonight.” She pulled on my arm. “Let’s go see her.”
We grabbed a portfolio from the house, then walked to the cemetery. After a vined arch, trees lined the path like an orchard, but none of the trees were the same. We had struck a partnership; Spring Renewal Greenhouse worked with the families at Quiet Meadows to provide burial trees and other plants. Using my regular vendors, we had plaques created for them too.
Next to the long skinny branches of an Eastern Redbud tree, facing a bush of yellow daffodils, I pulled a thick piece of canvas from the portfolio: a picture of Nyla that I had painted. After Andrew stabbed my palm, my hand was screwed up, and I couldn’t paint nearly as well as I once had. But the textured finish was set with lacquer so that even with the occasional weather, it would be kept in decent condition. Kora beamed, holding the painting to her chest. Then we set it into the memorial plaque’s display slot.
This section of the grounds was filled with trees and bushes that surged with color, bringing life to decay. Because that’s what the families wanted. And Kora brought it to this place.
“She would have loved it,” Kora whispered. I put an arm around her, holding her close to me. She turned, her eyes concentrating on mine. “What if I don’t want to go? California is so far away. From Punica. From my mother. From you.”
My chest tightened, but I held onto that firm smile. “I’ll be here when you return,” I said. “The semester will be over before you know it.”
She turned back to the tree, running her hands along the bark, then she faced me again.
“Come with me,” she said. “I know I can go there by myself, but what if I don’t want to be there by myself? What if I want to be there with you?” She stared at me, her eyes pleading. “Please, will you come with me?”
For a second, I wondered if she was afraid of being alone, but no, that wasn’t the case. Most nights we spent together, but she had been living by herself, to prove to her motherandto herself that she could live on her own without anyone’s help. She could handle the solitude, then. It was the distance that made her ache.
And was there any request that I would deny her? Never. California had too many fires already, but I supposed there were other ways to find destruction. And I had honestly already looked into funeral homes I could work for inside of that agricultural town. Death care was, thankfully, an industry everyone needed.
“Yes,” I said. She wrapped her arms around me, and I hoisted her up by her waist, kissing her deeply. Relieved that we could go together.
Later that night, as she put her leggings and loose shirts into a duffel bag, I made a mental note to add plastic wrap and cable ties to my own bag. We’d have to get a rental home together. The two of us weren’t going to fit in a twin-sized bed in a shared dorm room for three months.
I pulled out a small box from my pocket, with a new onyx ring inside of it. This one was smaller than Nyla’s, but the onyx was still the centerpiece, with diamonds flashing around it. I kneeled down beside the bed, waiting for Kora to turn from the closet.
She threw the last shirt onto the bed and gasped. “What are you doing?”
