CHAPTER SEVEN
The last time Ashley had been to Sunset Hills Cemetery was for her mom’s funeral. As she walked under the tall pine and spruce trees, she felt the same cold dread creep along her spine, the same sadness that had gripped her heart and laid her soul bare.
She turned right, walked past a sculpture of an angel and headed toward a row of maple trees.
The hum of an engine filled the air. Ashley looked across the manicured lawn. The arm of a small digger lifted and fell as another grave was prepared for a burial.
In the blink of an eye, the last three and a half years disappeared. On the morning of her mom’s funeral, she’d visited the cemetery with her friend, Erin. She’d wanted to clean her grandparents’ headstone and decorate it with flowers before her mom was buried beside them.
When they’d arrived, a small yellow digger had been removing the soil for her mom’s grave. She’d stood beside Erin, watching the way the men carefully worked. In an odd way, being there had helped her come to terms with her mom’s death.
She took a deep breath and gripped the flowers in her hand. Her mom and grandparents’ graves were halfway along the next row.
Her feet slowed as she neared their headstones. The black granite glistened in the early morning sunshine, sparkling just how her mom and grandma wanted it to.
Ashley bit her bottom lip as she stood in front of her mom’s grave.Gabriella Marie Fisher, beloved wife of Trevor and cherished mom of Ashley.She wiped her eyes and read the words her mom had agonized over.Time passes, love remains.
Cancer had robbed her mom of the future she’d dreamed about, but she hadn’t wanted it to influence how she would be remembered.
She read her grandma and granddad’s headstone.Plant smiles, grow giggles, harvest love.Her grandparents had enjoyed gardening. After her granddad died, her grandma had asked the stone carver to decorate the edge of the headstone with carved pumpkins, apples, and images of their prize-winning dahlias.
Ashley and her mom had always smiled when they’d visited the grave and that, she supposed, was the whole point of why Grandma Josephine had chosen the headstone.
She pulled an old dishcloth out of her pocket and walked toward the nearest faucet. Returning to the headstones, she wiped the dirt and grime from the granite. Next came the vases. Once they were filled with water, Ashley divided the pink and white roses between them. When she was finished, she sat on the grass between the graves.
The digger had stopped, and the cemetery was bathed in heavy silence.
With her eyes closed, she imagined her mom, granddad, and grandma wrapping their arms around her, squeezing her in a group hug that would last forever.
Tears slid down her face. She remembered their last family Christmas together, the last photo before her granddad died. She hadn’t realized just how important those family gatherings had been until it was too late.
Her hand reached for a tissue and she wiped her eyes. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees and ruffled her hair.
She took a deep breath and thought of her mom. She would have been proud of what Ashley had achieved. But the story about Congressman Welsh and The Reaching High Foundation was different than anything she’d done. Tearing a person’s reputation to shreds wasn’t something she took lightly. By association, Jasmine Alfredo would be dragged down with Congressman Welsh, and it wouldn’t end well for her.
And then there was Matthew.
She’d left Bozeman to become a better reporter, to make a difference in the world. Living in New York had changed her, and she wasn’t sure if it was for the better.
“What am I going to do, mom?” She waited, searching for a sign that she was doing the right thing. But the cemetery remained silent.
***
Matthew left his hat on the hall table and walked toward the kitchen. He had been worried about Ashley for most of the day. She’d called at lunchtime and told him she’d sent her story to her editor. He had no idea when she’d leave, but it would be soon.
He walked into the kitchen. Ashley was sitting in front of the counter. “Hi. You’re home early.” Her forced smile worried him. “Have you heard from your editor?”
“He called twice.”
“Is that a good thing?”
She nodded. “He likes the story.”
“Have his legal team looked at it?”
“They’re doing that now.”
Matthew took a mug out of the pantry and made himself a cup of coffee. For someone who had just written the story of her career, she didn’t look happy.
