“Brave. She’s being extremely brave.” Mom walked over and handed me the tea.
I scooted up, resting my back against my headboard, and took the proffered mug. “When’s the burial?”
“There isn’t going to be one.”
I frowned.
“They burned the cabin down after we left. Too many dead bodies to cover up.”
“But there’ll be a ceremony, right?” Minty steam curled off my tea and warmed my cheeks.
“After the wedding.” Mom traced the vow tattooed on her finger:You are my sun, my wind, my home.
“Have you forgiven her?”
Her thumb slid off the wordhome. “Misguided love is still love.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Bea was afraid of losing your brother, and her fear drove her to act rashly.” She paused. Then, “A little like Liam.”
I towed my lashes down. “What he did and what Bea did aren’t remotely the same.”
“Aren’t they, though?”
“No.”
She leaned forward, cupped my cheeks, and pressed her lips to my forehead, held them there. Her familiar scent of cloves and caramel enveloped me, sweetening some of the leftover bitterness. “Not everyone is as emotionally intrepid as you are, my darling girl.”
Emotionally intrepid?More like emotionally naïve.
Her strange compliment replayed inside my mind long after she left. I feared losing people just as much as the next person. Just because I didn’t try to alter myself or push others away didn’t make me brave.
Chapter 64
The compound was aflutter with wedding preparations. Boxes of tinsel and fairy lights were being toted out of cabins and carried or driven over to Pondside. Laughter rang out from every home, and easy smiles were being tossed around like snowballs.
From great tragedies sprang great joy. Such was life, an alternating series of peaks and valleys.
I was glad we were on the uptick and secretly hoped we’d plateau, because I could do with a few years of uninterrupted happiness.
When I reached Pondside at sunset, Grandma Reeves, who’d requisitioned her entire bingo team to decorate, and Mom, who’d called up all her friends and their husbands, were in full stage-director mode. Standing in the middle of the dark, glittery room, I slow-twirled to take in its beauty.
I offered to help and was sent to assist Sasha behind the bar to uncork the wine. Not an especially challenging task, even though there were close to a hundred bottles to open. Perhaps sensing I wasn’t feeling especially talkative, Sasha filled the silence. He told me about his latest invention—a knitting machine for his mother—and his grandfather’s garage band—The Grandpops—which played electronic bluegrass. Apparently, they’d offered to perform tomorrow. Sasha hadn’t known how to turn them down, so he’d asked Nolan for help. My brother had been so impressed he’d ended up hiring them.
“I’m not sure what electronic bluegrass sounds like,” I admitted.
“It’s like instrumental country.”
“That’s neat.”
Sasha grinned.
Niall arrived then, along with Sarah, Lucas, and Ness. As my brother helped Sarah set up her deejaying equipment in one corner of the room, Lucas and Ness took seats at the bar in front of me.
“Didn’t know you bartended on Tuesdays, Knickknack. What’s your Wednesday gig?”
“Maid of honor.”
