“No, that’s my Uber. He dropped Kimmie off at home first, but I wanted to stop here really quick to give you this, then he’s taking me back.”
She points at the box. “This?” she squeaks hopefully. “Is this what you want to give me?”
I smile, handing her the crystals I picked out for her. “Kimmie told me you’ve been interested in them, and I have more than I need now, so ...”
“Wow.” She reaches forward and takes the box from me, then shuffles through the contents. “Wow, wow, wow. This is just ... thank you. I don’t know what else Kimmie told you, but we went to a shop downtown last weekend, and the owner gave me tons of info ...”
Her voice drowns out in the distance as a feminine figure blurs behind her, crossing the living room then disappearing around a wall. She pops back into view to set a vase of flowers on a side table. I squint, recognizing the woman instantly—low bun, high cheekbones, and dark skin that matches Amber’s.
Amber stops talking and follows my gaze to the woman, then she turns back to me. “Do you know my aunt?”
“That’s your aunt?”
“Yeah. Aunt Cheri, my mom’s sister.”
“I’ve seen her before.”
“Really?”
I nod, recalling the look on the woman’s face when she was standing outside Henry’s motel room. “I’m glad to see she looks okay. She seemed pretty upset when I last saw her.”
“Oh, yeah.” Amber’s eyes soften. “She’s been staying with us for a couple years.”
“Years? How ...?”
Amber inspects my face. After a moment, whatever she sees in my expression prompts her to glance behind her again. Then she sets the box of crystals down, steps over the threshold, and closes the door quietly.
She leans close to me, lowering her voice. “It’s really sad, actually. My uncle took off when their son, my cousin, died. It was right after my cousin’s twenty-first birthday too, just to rub salt into the wound. Anyway, it was one thing after the next because right after Aunt Cheri moved in, we found out about my grandmother’s cancer.”
“I heard about your grandmother. I’m so sorry.”
Amber’s lip trembles, but she steadies it between her teeth, then nods. “It’s been hard. But I have help.”
I arch a brow.
“Family support, meds.” When my lips part, she adds, “I was scared at first—you know, to try medication? But ...” She lifts a shoulder. “They’re actually helping.”
My throat tightens.
“I’m sorry too.” She looks down. “About your mom.”
I swallow, my eyes watering. “Thanks.” I clear my throat, nodding toward the front door blocking her aunt from view. “So what happened then? After Cheri found out about her mom’s cancer?”
“Well, all of us were hurting, obviously—you saw me when things took a turn for the worse—but it was even harder on my aunt. She spent all of her savings traveling back and forth, from here to North Carolina, so when we got a call saying this was it, time to say goodbye, she didn’t have enough for a final ticket.”
Oh, my god. “No ...” I say quietly.
“Right, but then somehow, she got the money. It literally showed up on our doorstep, and it was enough to cover the cost for both of us. Thankfully, my mom was able to cover hers.”
“Seriously? That’s amazing.” I think of Henry, and my heart swells. It had to have been him, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Joshua had something to do with it too. The sensation in my chest starts to burn at the thought of Joshua. “Someone must have been looking out for her. For both of you.”
“Exactly. I’m just so thankful. I never would have gotten to say goodbye in person without that money.” She looks over her shoulder, checking that the door’s still closed. “Personally, I think my uncle’s the one who left it here, but that’s just me. He’s been showing up a lot lately, looking all clean and polished, and Aunt Cheri’s been smiling more and more. She thinks no one notices, but, hello? She’s so obvious.”
I laugh, the sound thick from the rush of tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks.
“What? No ...” Amber’s face falls. “That wasn’t supposed to be sad.”
“It’s not,” I say through another laugh, wiping my cheeks. “Not at all. I’m sorry.” I gesture to my blotchy face, looking away in embarrassment. “I cry at the drop of a hat these days.”
