“That was pretty amazing,” I said, “what she did.”
Silas let out a noncommittal grunt that did nothing to convey what I was certain he felt. “Do you think she meant to kill him?”
He didn’t look at me when he asked it. Just kept his eyes on the road, knuckles white on the wheel like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
I hesitated before answering. “I don’t think it works like that.”
He nodded slowly. “No. I don’t either.”
“But she protected us,” I said. “She protected you.”
Silas exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “She never got the chance before.”
I reached across the console and laid my hand over his. “She did what she could, when it mattered.”
His eyes flicked toward me. “You think that’s what she wanted all along? Closure?”
“No,” I said, surprising even myself. “I think she just wanted you to be happy after all this time.”
We rounded the curve into Willow Grove, dawn just cresting over the tree line, rain dripping from every branch. The lights at Mabel’s were flickering on, despite all the to-do last night; a banner under the town’s welcome sign announced the annual Gloaming Festival. It was perfectly ordinary in that extraordinary, Willow Grove way.
“Didn’t think Mabel’s would be open for breakfast,” Silas laughed under his breath. “Given the everything of it all.”
I smiled. “With the kind of gossip going around today? Of course she’ll be there.”
We rolled down Main Street, past the shops…past homes, past the church on the right. The stained glass somehow glowed from within, a scene of the Garden of Eden—featuring a snake that seemed a little more friendly than it had before.
And then we were home.
Sitting in the driveway together…drenched, baptized, thoroughly exhausted. Silas didn’t move, so I sat and waited for him to speak again.
“I think I’m done with ghosts,” he said finally.
I looked at him, surprised by the sudden certainty in his voice.
“I’ll miss her,” he continued. “But I think that was goodbye.”
I nodded. “It felt like it.”
The truck’s engine rumbled to a stop as Silas pulled the key from the ignition, shaking his head and reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.
“I should’ve known,” he said, “back when she died…I should’ve known it wasn’t an accident.”
“You couldn’t have,” I said gently.
“I knew Abel,” he replied. “That should’ve been enough.”
“You know himnow,” I corrected. “What’s past is past, Silas.”
Silas finally reached for the door handle and got out, rounding the front of the truck to open mine before I could beat him to it. I didn’t tease him this time; just slipped into his arms and held him there in the driveway, wrapped in mist and birdsong and the kind of quiet that only comes after a storm.
He kissed my temple, my cheek, my mouth.
“What’s past is past,” he repeated.
“But that doesn’t mean we won’t remember,” I said.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, brushing a damp curl from my face. “Thank you,” he murmured.
