Ingrid gets to her feet. “I’ll go find him. He and I need to talk.”
“Would you like company?” Esther asks. “The Pies and Spies ladies stick together.”
“Thank you, but Greyson and I are long overdue for a mother-son heart-to-heart.”
When the screen door closes, Mrs. Nelson presses her lips together and shakes her head with dismay. “Bran was such a good boy. So brave. So strong.”
“It was a risk when he enlisted with the Air Force, but everyone was so proud. One of our own going out there. We never thought anything would happen,” another of the ladies says.
The next one seated in our circle adds, “The heartbreaking thing is he was never found. Missing in action.”
“Presumed dead,” Mrs. Nelson whispers.
“I suppose it’s the kind of thing that never quite heals. Ingrid struggles, mostly in the form of quiet tears,” the next one says.
Taking in this information, I add, “I don’t think Grey had let himself feel anything until a short time ago.”
“Let me guess, it came out as anger,” the woman next to me says.
They discuss the phases of grief, including denial, anger, and depression.
“But why’s he angry with me?” I ask.
Ingrid returns and takes a seat on my other side. She grips my hand. Her eyes are darker gray than her son’s, almost slate, but I see the resemblance between them. “I take it you hadn’t told him how you feel until today.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t plan to like that either.” If at all.
Ingrid lifts her shoulders slightly with a shrug. “He’s probably upset that you’re braver than he is.”
Some of the women titter.
“But clearly, it’s one-sided. If he felt that way about me, he would’ve said that we’re married when you asked.”
“Are you simply married legally or in both word and deed?” Mrs. Nelson asks.
I take this to mean whether we discussed wanting to be together as partners or if we just exchanged vows for the insurance. “I don’t know.”
“Then you need to talk with him.”
I’m afraid. Not because of his anger, but what if he doesn’t care about me? What if the feeling isn’t mutual?
Ingrid pats my hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Everly. Now, I’ll admit that I’m not too pleased with him for lying or not telling me the truth in the first place, but I believe in forgiveness and second chances. I offered him both. I hope you can, too.”
Mrs. Nelson straightens a cherry-shaped candle holder on the coffee table. “If I’ve learned anything from fifty-one years of marriage, it’s the importance of communication. When I met Roger, he was like a caveman, grunting all the time. Would you like the newspaper, dear?Grunt. Would you like to go to the new restaurant in town for dinner?Grunt.Are you a caveman?Grunt.I actually asked him that once as a test to see if he was paying attention and he grunted, not listening at all. That’s when we had a talk. If our marriage was going to thrive, never mindlast, he needed to talk to me. Now, I knew he was a man of few words, but all that grunting was ridiculous.” The corner of Mrs. Nelson’s lip twists.
“Sounds familiar,” I say.
Esther adds, “Think about it this way. No one enters into a relationship or marriage knowing how to do it. You grow together. So while Roger, or in this case, Grey, needs to learn how to communicate his thoughts and feelings, in a way, Margaret needed to find the courage to let her husband know how she felt, too. We know you’re brave, Everly. We know you can do it.”
“But what if he doesn’t?—?”
Ingrid says, “I know my son and the way he was looking at you while you were eating your pie...I’ve never seen him so enamored.”
“Speaking of pie,” Esther says. “We have a rule that we don’t abandon ours.”
They head back to the kitchen with Sonny in tow.
“You’ll find him at the church,” Ingrid calls as if needing that slice of pie more than ever.
