“If I knew, I’d fix it.”
I feel for Ethan. Grief is a twisted path, and it’s not my place to judge. So, while I’ve managed to keep a professional distance, I’m no longer angry. But the whole episode reminded me not to let the protective shell around my heart slip. Because I’m discovering in myself a gooey centre I’ve never bothered to explore before.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ethan
My scathingly brilliant plan for missing Christmas at the farm with the family is somewhat foiled by a cute invitation arriving in my inbox two weeks before the end of the semester.
A naming ceremony for Theo and Cora. Scheduled for a couple of days before I leave for Egypt.
There’s no way I can beg off that one. So it looks like I’ll be going to the farm after all.
Josh and Greer suggest driving down together, but I’m not getting trapped there again. I need to be able to escape if things get rocky. I’ll take my own car.
I toss up whether to book a room at the B & B. It takes me far longer than it should to make the decision. On the one hand, I don’t want to stay at the B & B and be reminded of my night there with Sadie. I also don’t want to stay at Mum and Dad’s. And I can’t stay at Will and Freyja’s because it will be more than a full house with her parents and three of her five siblings there.The other two, founding members of Seraphina Cloud, are still on tour in Europe.
In the end, I decide to stay at Mum and Dad’s. I need to visit the wildflower garden where we scattered Jessie’s ashes. Alone. It’s past time I find peace with my loss and genuinely move on. Because I can’t stay in this limbo forever. Sadie was right. I need to let my family back in.
There’s a tension headache brewing by the time I turn onto Bangalay Mountain Road the evening before the ceremony. I consciously unclench my jaw, but it doesn’t help. All I have to do is get through the next forty hours. Yes, I counted. Yes, I timed my arrival to minimise my time here without appearing to rush away. I’m not proud of it. But I don’t know how much I can deal with.
As always with my family, it’s chaos when I arrive. Everyone talking at once. I’ve barely snuck in the front door when Isla, who is a force of nature, barrels into me, tackling my legs.
“Uncle E!” she squeals. “Where is Sadie?” She looks behind me, brandishing a pink plastic brush I recognise from the day the twins were born.
“She’s not here today, Isla, I’m sorry.”
Her cute little rosebud mouth pulls into a pout and her tiny fists land on her hips in a clear sign of displeasure.
“Humph. Well, don’t forget her next time. ’Kay?” As if, kid. God knows I’ve tried to forget her. Without success. Before I can answer, Isla’s off to find someone prepared to have their hair pulled out by the roots.
“Oh, Ethan, you’re here at last.” My mother bustles over, Andrea propped on her hip. Kissing me on the cheek, she hugsme with one arm. “Take Andrea, would you? I need to check on dinner.”
I take the baby, who looks at me with dark, serious eyes. Nobody else has noticed me yet, so I seize the opportunity to sneak back out the door and circle round the house towards the wildflower garden. No time like the present. I need to stop putting stuff off.
Even before I see it over the rise, I can smell the blooms. Will created this garden for Jessie. As a place to lay her to rest, and it’s stunning. It’s a shallow natural amphitheatre where Will and the farm manager, Paul, planted thousands of wildflower seeds in a brilliant combination that means the meadow is almost never without one kind of flower or another. He even put in an outdoor bath, which I’m pretty sure he and Freyja use for sex whenever Mum and Dad aren’t here.
My breath catches as I come over the crest. The flowers are a wild and riotous tangle. Perfectly matching my wild and riotous family.
A little hand patting my face reminds me I’m still holding a baby. And alerts me to the tears rolling down my cheeks. He looks at the tears he’s picked up on his chubby little fingers and sucks them into his mouth before looking back at my face.
This baby might have dark hair and eyes like his mum, but I swear I see Ben’s emotional intelligence shining in his expression. I’m suddenly glad I carried him out here with me. Who’d have thought the company of a baby could help ease the pain of being here again?
I follow the rough stone path down to the deck where the bath is, pointing out the few flowers I recognise to Andy on the way.
“Those white ones are daisies. And see those big yellow ones with the brown centres? They’re sunflowers. Sunflowers were Jessie’s favourites. That’s why there’s so many of them,” I tell him.
I sit on the bench Will had positioned to catch the optimum view, propping Andrea in my lap.
“You never met her, but Jessie was my wife. She’s scattered here, Andy,” I say. As though he understands, he makes a sound of sympathy, turns his head to snuggle into my belly and pulls one of my fingers into his mouth to suck. His other hand pats my forearm in a strange gesture of reassurance.
We sit together, me and a tiny baby who doesn’t have any idea what’s going on or even who I am. A baby who has only ever known true hearts and strong hands protecting him in his short life. Whose trust in me is humbling and whose silent witness is giving me more comfort than I could have imagined.
The sky turns from bright to pale blue, the clouds shot through with pink and mauve and orange.
I don’t turn as I hear footsteps. I recognise the gait. It’s my mother. She sits quietly beside me, joining my impromptu vigil without a word. I don’t know how long we sit there, but I’m aware Andrea has fallen asleep, my finger in his mouth, his tiny fist clutching my shirt.
“It’s been too hard, Mum,” I eventually whisper. I don’t need to elaborate. Mum knows what I mean. She’s always been able to read me.
