His eyes darken and he gets to his feet. “You didn’t mind lying to an insurance company.” The words are like grit against my skin.
I stand up too. “Why would you say that?”
“Everly,” he starts on a growl, but it’s like his words and thoughts scramble.
I thrust my chest and swing my arms to my sides. “But I didn’t tell the insurance company that I love you.”
The air leaves the room and so does my husband.
I drop my face into my hands and a sob breaks loose.
30
EVERLY
Mrs. Nelson is on her feet, guiding me out of the kitchen. We sit down on a brown couch with cherry-shaped throw pillows. She passes me a tissue from a box with cherries printed on it. “Sweetie, I know I’m a perfect stranger, but do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” This is the truth.
I don’t know any of these people and truly, the only person I owe the truth to is Grey. I professed my love without thinking. I unexpectedly love my husband, but clearly, he doesn’t even want to acknowledge me as being anything more than his coach.
Guess I failed there, too, because that was poor etiquette on his part.
Then what was that kiss? Why is he wearing the ring?
Heavy footsteps clomp by in the hall. A screen door opens and closes.
The other women flock to the living room, including Ingrid, who carries Sonny. They all join hands, saying a prayer.
Afterward, Mrs. Nelson says, “Can you tell us the story?”
Feeling comforted by their grace and understanding, I start at the beginning with a snapshot of my father so they’llunderstand why I went along with the engagement to Todd, how that all fell apart, and what happened next.
Esther, one of the women who had also fought breast cancer, offers words of understanding. Everyone applauds us for how strong we are, but especially me for telling the truth.
Sonny, previously occupied by several small bowls of blueberries he’d sorted by size, crawls onto my lap and says, “Jeg elsker deg, Mamma.” He wears a bright smile and nuzzles into me. I don’t know what he said, but the sweet little boy somehow knew exactly what I needed, and more than anything, I want to give him what he needs—a mother.
Ingrid gasps.
Everyone turns to her.
Margaret, aka Mrs. Nelson, says, “It’s hard enough to decipher toddler speak, what did he say?”
Ingrid presses her hand to her chest. “Everly, our family has been through a lot. That’s no excuse, but when I saw those rings on your fingers, I felt both sad and angry. Sad because I didn’t get to be part of something that would’ve brought me a lot of joy—seeing my son get married to you, obviously, a lovely young woman. And angry because Grey kept it from me. As I’m sure you know, he’s not the best at communicating.” She imitates his grunt.
My lips twist toward a smile because she has that right.
“And things between us haven’t been the same since we lost his brother. He won’t talk about it. And I guess I haven’t shown the best example because I’ve done the same.”
“He’s hardly mentioned Bran to me.”
“It’s difficult to talk about. Earlier, I had a feeling Grey lied. I’m not quite sure why he’d do so, though. He’s going to have to reckon with that, me, and our Good Lord. But as we all saw, he’s wearing the ring, so that must mean something.” Ingrid folds her hands in her lap.
“But I blurted that I love him.” My cheeks go the color of cherries.
“Sometimes the heart speaks up for us when we’re feeling nervous,” Mrs. Nelson says.
“But he left.” I look in the direction of the door, feeling suddenly alone even among such a kind group of women and with Sonny singing one of his songs about a lumberjack who picks blueberries while looking for trees to chop down and forest animals to rescue.
