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Your Soul to Keep

Page 133

by Devin Sloane

AtGabe’s,Iturnedmy key in the lock and slipped inside the front hall, stopping to inhale deeply.

Every house has a smell, an atmosphere, a vibe.

You don’t notice it unless you’ve been away a while.

Gabe’s house?

Smelled like family.

Peace.

Love.

It was home.

I threw my purse over a chair and spent the next hour lugging everything I couldn’t live without inside.

I placed Nan’s Galway crystal bowl on the dining room table, positioned to fracture the sunlight coming through the window.

I was wrong, pet. You’re the sun.

I sucked in a shuddering breath. Joy and grief, two sides of the same coin, spun inside me. Although I couldn’t hold her, she was with me still.

Everything else I needed belonged in our bedroom.

Nan’s vanity took pride of place on its own wall beside the window.

I slid my precious babies’ quilts under our bed. Later, I would find somewhere better for them. For now, they were safe.

I shoved the heavy boxes of clothing and personal items into the walk-in closet to sort out later.

Lifting the lid off the last box, I carefully unfolded Nan’s Carrickmacross lace runner and smoothed it over the barren surface of the dresser. Next, I centered my mother’s silver tray and arranged her vintage perfume bottles on its mirror-like surface.

On either side of my mother’s perfume, I set out Nan’s Belleek cottages and placed a tealight in each one.

One day, Dylan would inherit them just as I had. Just as my mother had before me.

On the nightstand on my side of the bed, I tucked the China cup and saucer Nan placed her wedding ring in every night before bed.

God willing, one day it would hold mine.

Last, I folded Gabe’s comforter off the bed and smoothed Nan’s quilt in its place.

I called Maeve and asked her to hold onto Dylan until she heard from Gabe.

“Thank God. You’re sorted?”

“Fully,” I assured her.

Now I had only to wait.

My car sitting outside alerted him to my presence. He clocked me as soon as he walked in.

For a pregnant moment, he froze, the toothpick in his mouth unmoving. His beautiful eyes relayed hope, fear, pain, and love before he dropped a veil over them.

Without a word, he bent to remove his boots.

Worn jeans, long legs, grease-stained t-shirt, messy hair. He’d never looked more beautiful.