He nodded. “Oh yes, whole big hullabaloo. In the process, we discovered many of the headstones had been damaged and time was taking it’s toll on the whole cemetery. So, we put together a committee, and we do monthly checks and repairs.” Gage stopped by the middle-row and pointed. “On the end where the white poinsettia is. You’ll find it. It was good to see you.”
Summer banished the nerves and smiled. “You and I should get coffee at Clem’s some morning?”
“Sharing our famous exploits?”
“I’m going to paint a mural for the town. The where is still to be determined, but Mrs. Heigl suggested family histories as a theme, and I agreed. Sounds like you might be a good resource. There’s the famous thing, too. We gotta stick together.”
Gage laughed, relaxed and full-throated. “I’m all for new and famous friends. “How about in the morning? I’ll meet you at ten? We’ll avoid the breakfast rush.”
“Can do. See you.”
“Holler if you need anything else. I am acquainted with some of the town’s most famous historians and genealogists.” He winked.
“Good to know, but I’m friends with Adelina, too.”
“Damn. That woman gets around. But do you know Mr. Snidely? Expert right there.”
She couldn’t keep the smirk off her face. “My high school art teacher. He taught me to paint. Plus, I spent some time at Olivia Applegate’s dinner table discussing this subject. Let’s compare notes.”
Gage grinned. “Well, double damn. You do get around. We’ll talk.” He waved goodbye and went to the front to retrieve his wheelbarrow.
Summer carefully picked her way headstone by headstone. She’d never recognized how much of Echo Falls rested here. She’d been too busy avoiding and nursing her anger.
The sign over the gate read Echo Falls Family Cemetery, though she had a vague memory of her grandmother using the Slade-Lopez name. In truth, this was where the memorial had its roots – a handful of markers on a roped off piece of land. Over the years, as other families asked to bury their own, the area expanded. Carnahan here, Applegate over there, Caldwell by the fence.
She walked slowly, reading names she’d only heard at Olivia’s dinner table, and realized the town wasn’t only stories told over supper. It was here, carved in stone, each one a thread tied to her own.
She stopped. Her grandparents. Here they were with leaves piled against the tombstones, as if nobody cared.
Tears flooded her eyes.I do!
She knelt and swept away the debris. She read the words on her grandmother’s stone and traced them with her finger. Shifting to her grandfather’s, she stared at it. Tom must haveordered and placed this marker. She didn’t remember it. Lord, what kind of granddaughter was she?
She thought anger carried her here.
She thought she’d follow Olivia’s advice – yell at him and get it out of her system.
But there weren’t any words she hadn’t already said except I’m sorry and I forgive you. Regret twisted through her insides, aching and pricking.
“I’m the only one still carrying this,” she whispered to the trees swaying with the light breeze. She wiped her eyes. Hand on his headstone, she offered the only thing necessary. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. Please forgive me.”
He had worked through his anger and remorse before dying. He’d hung her best painting over his bed to honor her work, and he gave away those left to friends. The act spread her memory through the community. Humility flooded her. “Grandpa is gone, Summer. Time to recognize he said sorry the only way he could.”
She sat back in the grass and let the tears flow.
She didn’t hear him. She should have. Tom’s uniform creaked with the gear he wore. He knelt beside her, put a hand on her back, and kissed her hair. “I’m here.”
“How did you know?”
“Grandma.” He gazed across the headstones, his eyes stopping here and there.
She wiped her face with her sweatshirt and leaned closer to him. “I came to yell at my grandfather, but I met the whole town.”
“Now you get why I stay.”
She grabbed his hand. “You would have left here? For me?”
Tom nodded. “But you pushed me back, and I’ve been waiting for you to understand it’s your place, too.”
