Page 29 of Harvest Moon (Riverbend 3)

He joined them in the kitchen.

Judy was rearranging the freezer contents at warp speed, and Paul pushed his walker one handed, a foil-covered pan in the other. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past several days.

“Here, let me get that.” Gavin took the dish from Paul and set it on the island with a dozen other dishes. He’d thought they had a lot of food before.

“I’m putting labels on each dish so we know what’s inside,” Judy said.

“Very helpful. Where’s Laurel and Emma?”

Paul lowered himself onto a barstool. “Out back.”

Gavin glanced out the French doors and spotted Laurel in the orchard, Emma riding high on her hip. The wind fluttered Laurel’s dress, and the sunlight glowed through its filmy material.

What would happen now? They’d spent the whole week planning for the funeral, but it was behind them now. He assumed the Claytons would stay awhile. But surely Laurel had to return to her job by Monday. Maybe she’d even leave tonight so she could work tomorrow. He swallowed hard at the thought of her leaving, his feelings all mixed up inside. It was hard being around her again. All the memories, good and bad, toyed with his emotions. And yet...

His mind flashed back to that moment in the prayer room. To the way Laurel had comforted him. When she’d entered the room he’d been lost in his own pain, buried so deeply he hardly remembered where he was.

Then Laurel’s face had softened with compassion, and he needed to be in her arms. His heart squeezed tight at the memory. She held him like she cared, her fingers threading through his hair the way they used to. Did she know he was grieving their child just then? Did she know how much he needed her? Her touch was more restorative than the best medicine had to offer. It began to heal a festering wound that had been long disregarded.

Then he sensed her withdrawal.

Now the door opened and Laurel appeared, brown hair mussed, reminding him of so many lazy Saturday mornings spent in bed.

He blinked away the thought as Sunny sidled up to Laurel and Emma, tail wagging.

Laurel set the child down. “It’s getting ready to rain.”

“Wain,” Emma said. “Get wet.”

“That’s right,” Laurel said. “We don’t want to get wet.”

Emma toddled off to the living room. “Sunny, come!”

The dog followed, like being the girl’s minion was her favorite thing in the world. Gavin was suddenly so grateful for that dog that his throat thickened.

“What can I do?” Laurel asked Judy.

“All these dishes need to be labeled and covered. Then we’ll put them in the freezer. I rearranged things a bit so it would all fit. Mercy, there’s enough food for months.”

“It’s a great community,” Gavin said. “Mike and Mallory were well loved.”

Silence fell as Laurel got to work at the island.

Gavin headed to the sink and began loading the dishwasher.

From the next room Emma squealed at Sunny’s antics. She’d slept through the funeral and tolerated the compassionate stares and comments at the luncheon. Gavin’s family did a great job entertaining her. His mom, especially, was a huge help. She offered to stay and clean up, but having her—all the Robinsons, really—here with Laurel set things on edge. His family had questions about what would happen next, but Gavin had no answers. In the end it was a relief to see them go.

“What am I doing?” Judy froze, dish in hand, cold air wafting from the open freezer door.

“We’re putting the food away,” Paul said.

Judy scanned the room. “Why are we here? Where’s Mike?”

Oh, dear God.

Paul’s eyes locked on his wife, his facial muscles tight with dread. “Honey . . . let’s step outside a minute.”

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

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