Page 28 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

It had kept him up some nights, I knew, because while he believed in service to one’s country in theory, in practice, there were instances where military action troubled him. He definitely didn’t want to die, and it would have been insult added to injury to die for a cause he didn’t entirely believe in…or even fully understand.

But it hadn’t been enemy fire that killed him. George had died after being hit by a car when he pulled over to help someone change a flat tire. In the end, he had died doing what he believed in: helping people.

Still, he should never have been there to begin with. He should have been at the skateboard park, trying new tricks on the half-pipe, or at UNC, doing what he loved. He had given all that up for me. For Jessica. And there was never a day when I was not grateful to him for it.

So, no. I would never forget.

“I don’t know if this is what George would want, Mom,” I said quietly. “A big ceremony? He didn’t even want to go to his high school graduation, remember? He only walked across the stage because it meant something to his parents. He hated making a big deal about things or dressing up. This isn’t him.”

“You’re talking about an eighteen-year-old,” Mom said. “He was barely an adult. Of course he didn’t like to put on a suit and tie. He was so young. No one that young ever thinks they’re going to die, not even when they’re in the military, unless we’re in a real war. They don’t think of life going on without them. But trust me, he would want this.” She removed the tea bag and set it on the saucer. “Everyone wants to be remembered, Kate.”

Mom had a point. I still thought of George as he was the last time I had seen him. Full of vitality, more than a little angry at being trapped into a life he didn’t want, stubborn as all get-out. If he had known then how little time he had left, would he have been different? He wouldn’t have wanted to be forgotten; I was sure of that much.

“All right.” I relented, as I had known I would from the beginning. “But does it have to be the country club? I know he worked there all through high school, but the place never meant anything to him.”

Quite the opposite, in fact, although I would never tell my mother that. Even though he had worked there from the time he had turned fourteen, when he started as a dishwasher, until he joined the military, he had always made fun of the place.

Once, George had met me and my parents for lunch there—the only time he had been a guest. Everyone there is a pretentious asshole, he had said. Only adding except your parents when I had given him an annoyed look, and he had clarified that while my parents might be as pretentious as the rest of them—a statement of fact I could not refute with a straight face—they weren’t assholes.

“Don’t be silly,” Mom said. “It’s a lovely location. George worked there for four years, and you know that after his death, the club gave Juan and Maria lifetime memberships. It was very generous of them.”

That was true. But. “We could have it at St. Mary’s,” I suggested. “He went to church there with his family every Sunday.”

Mom shook her head. “No, not a church. Too much like a funeral. This is a commemoration of his life, not his death. It should be happy, though still tastefully solemn, of course.”

“Of course,” I said dutifully, but the ghost of George snickered in my mind. The last thing he had ever been was solemn, tastefully or otherwise.

“The country club is the perfect location,” my mother said firmly. “We can hold the ceremony out of doors and move it inside if the weather chooses to be inclement.”

I smothered a smirk at the idea of the weather choosing to be anything. But that was Grace through and through. To disregard her wishes must be a deliberate choice, and even nature herself really ought to think better of it.

“George loved the outdoors, you know, Kate.” Mom’s tone was slightly reproving, as though I was the one not thinking of what George would want.

“George liked rock-climbing and skateboarding, Mom,” I said with a patience I did not feel. “Golf? Not so much.”

“Hm. Well.” Mom sniffed. “I like to think he would have grown out of such things by now. He would have matured. You can’t seriously suggest we hold the ceremony at the skate park.”

For just a moment, I did consider it. The skate park? George would have loved that.

“Not to mention,” Mom said, although here she was, mentioning it, “our family has a certain status in this community. People expect things from us. And George means something important to everyone. What would people say, if we held it at the skate park? That we didn’t care enough about him to do it right?”

I faltered. Another point for Mom. The country club didn’t have the character of the skate park, but it also didn’t have broken glass and the occasional drug paraphernalia. Plus it had tents and indoor facilities, should we need them. It wasn’t George, but it was the logical choice.

“It’s settled, then,” Mom said cheerfully, even though I hadn’t agreed out loud.

I sighed. It wasn’t the first time my mother had assumed agreement, and it wouldn’t be the last time I didn’t fight it. Some habits were too ingrained to break.

Even Sweet Things had been her brainchild. I had been so scared and lost after George died that I had no thought of the future. Of how to get a job and earn money. But my parents had come up with the idea for a candy shop…and footed the bill to get it started. And then kept right on paying until it became profitable.

“Kate?”

I looked up, startled, at the sound of Max’s voice. My face flushed. “Max. Hi.”

Mom fingered the silk scarf around her neck as she glanced sharply between us and then back to me. “And who is this?”

Max looked to me as well, his brows raised in question. I hadn’t told him yet about my conversation with Jessica, which meant he didn’t know where we stood.

“Max, this is my mother, Grace Locklear. Mom, Max Darlington is the new principal of Piedmont,” I said.

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