Never mind the August afternoon was sweltering. Sweat dripped down her back as she worked. When she arrived at Cottage Three, she rose up and studied the robin’s-egg-blue door. Mama had gone to the paint store with Mrs. Carter and picked out the paint color. Cami and Ben had tagged along and enjoyed ice cream afterward.
Ben had replaced the windows, and the glass sparkled in the light. The window boxes contained fresh, colorful flowers, courtesy of Ray.
The cottage looked the way she remembered it—minus Mama’s paint boots sitting just outside the door. She’d always wanted a pair of boots just like Mama’s.
Cami grabbed another solar light out of the basket and jammed it into the dirt at the edge of the little stoop. Now to add lights to the rest of the garden.
“Annalise said you were lighting the path.” Ben’s deep voice shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d sought her out every evening when she arrived after work to help her sister.
A simple conversation, a gentle press against her back, a whispered word in her ear. Cami did her best to keep it casual. Nothing deep. Nothing emotional. Nothing lasting.
But her skin always tingled at his touch, and her heartbeat tripled its tempo when she caught sight of him.
“These lights arrived. I thought I’d help with the garden.” He held up an Amazon box. “Where did you leave off?”
“Here.” She gestured to the robin’s-egg-blue door. “At Mama’s door.”
“How’s it feel to be standing here? Where you left off fifteen years ago?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think she’d love that a wedding was taking place here. She’d love that the door she painted was still blue.”
“I think she’d love that you were standing here,” Ben said. He stepped ahead of her with a gentle touch on her arm. “I’ll go in with you if you want.”
Go in? Really? She began to tremble “I don’t know.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“The truth. That it’s my fault she died. I didn’t get her help in time.”
“It’s not your fault, Cami. I know you know that.”
“In my head, yes, but in here…” She tapped over her heart. “I wonder if there’s some truth to it.”
Ben took the basket of lights from her and set it on the ground. “Come on, let’s go in together.”
For a flash second, she was ten and chasing Ben around the cottage. Granny Carter walked Mama to the front door and gave her the key.
We’re so happy you’re with us again. Ben, be a good host and take Cami inside for some cookies.
She took a step, then hesitated. Her gaze mixed with Ben’s. She was not alone. Not this time.
Cami stepped onto the whitewashed step she used to sit on with Mama and watch the fireflies.
At the blue door, she remembered the night when Ben had walked her home—after they’d fallen out of the tree house—and, holding hands, bid each other a shy goodbye.
Here he stood with her again. He pushed the door open. “When you’re ready.”
“I feel like I’m standing in an igloo,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“Nerves.”
Cami took a trembling step inside and waited, listening, feeling. She felt Ben’s presence next to her. The walls and the dark wood cabinets in the kitchen had been repainted a simple white, and new hardwood had been added throughout. The furniture was new—a beautifully simple gray couch and new curtains had been added.
“It’s peaceful,” she said. “I thought it’d feel like death, full of sadness and tears.”
“But that wasn’t your mama, was it? She left her joy and peace here.”
Cami wiped away the tears spilling down her cheeks. “She did, didn’t she.”
