‘I miss the way she would tell me not to bite my nails,’ RJ said finally. ‘She’d even know when I was doing it over the phone.’ He held out his hands. ‘They’ve looked awful all summer.’
‘I miss how she’d always be able to tell us apart,’ Laurel said, taking RJ’s hand. ‘Just by our voices, or by the way we walked. When we’d try to switch on her, she’d always catch us.’
Hazel linked their arms together. ‘I miss her hot chocolate. I don’t know how I’m gonna get through Christmas without it this year.’
Briar felt her throat close up. She’d been so focused on the summer that she hadn’t let herself think about what came next. Alice leaving was only the start. The leaves would start changing, the world would keep spinning. And her mom would still be gone.
‘I—’ Briar cut herself off, trying to stifle the emotion but not quite managing it. It didn’t matter anyway; she didn’t want to hide her pain from the people who loved her – not anymore. ‘I miss her in the greenhouse. Tending to the plants, snipping off dead leaves, propagating new ones.’
‘I miss her calls,’ her dad said. ‘Your mother had a knack for always calling when I couldn’t sleep. It was like she could sense it, even across the ocean.’
Briar stared at him. She hadn’t known that her parents spoke regularly, but then again, she hadn’t known a lot of things.
‘She was a terrible cook,’ Laurel said, and the rest of them laughed. ‘Remember RJ’s tenth birthday? She tried to make those meatless tacos.’
‘Briar was the vegetarian,’ RJ said, shooting a mock glare at Briar. ‘I don’t understand why the rest of us had to be subjected to it. It wasmybirthday!’
Briar had been thirteen at the time, and she and Alice had stopped eating meat after watching a documentary about factory farming. In the end, she hadn’t even made it a full year, but Susan had been supportive, happy that Briar was taking an interest in the natural world.
‘She was a good mom,’ Briar said. It didn’t fix any of the things Susan had done wrong. Briar still felt like she was failing her by selling the camp, still felt like there were a million things she needed to say to her and was still grappling with the fact that she never would. But in this moment, in this place, with her family, she could give her mom some grace. ‘She did her best.’
They took in the view for a moment. Briar finally reached into her pack and pulled out a long bamboo tube. They all walked to the edge of the water.
‘Well, mom’ – she sighed, twisting off the cap and pouring out a small handful of ashes into her palm – ‘here we are.’ She looked to her family, pouring ashes into their outstretched hands. ‘To Susan,’ she murmured.
‘To Susan,’ they repeated. Briar let the wind sweep the ashes through the cracks of her fingers and out into the water. She watched them collect on the surface then sink, until the flecks were indistinguishable from the sand at the bottom of the lake.
Hazel leaned her head on Briar’s shoulder, and Laurel did the same. Briar reached out, taking RJ’s hand in her left, and her dad’s in her right. They stood there for another long moment, listening to the rustle of the trees, the lapping of the water, the clicks of the cicadas, the caws of distant birds.
Chapter 31
Briar
One month later
Briar barreled down the steps of The Thirsty Crow.
‘I know, I know, I’m late,’ she said, shucking off her jacket and stuffing it under the bar.
Oscar nodded easily. ‘No worries. It’s been slow.’ He continued wiping the spotless glass in his hands for several more seconds, his expression vacant.
‘You good?’ Briar said. He nodded again, finally putting the glass down and picking up another. ‘The gummy hitting a little too hard?’
He flushed, finally glancing at her. ‘Maybe…’
‘Go take ten,’ Briar said, grabbing the glass out of his hand. ‘Maybe see if the kitchen will make you a cup of coffee. And if you see Shannon, don’t talk to her.’
‘On it,’ Oscar said, his eyes still not quite focusing on her face. ‘Good to have you back.’
Briar sighed as she watched him walk away. She quickly finished up the prep work for the night. It was only a Tuesday, but the trivia crowd could get rowdy, so it was best to be prepared.
The dive bar had operated in the basement of an old brownstone in Capitol Hill for several decades. Their ten-dollar beer and shot combo made it a local favorite among young staffers. And though it wasn’t exactly Briar’s scene, she’d missed it.
She nodded at some entering patrons, taking their orders and delivering drinks to their table. When she turned back to the bar, she caught sight of a familiar ponytail in the corner.
Briar stared, convinced she was seeing things. ‘Alice?’
‘Hi,’ Alice said. She sat with a manila folder and half-empty beer in front of her. It looked like she’d been there for a while. Briar walked over to her, blinking quickly, as though she might disappear at any moment. ‘Do you want to sit?’ Alice said, sounding exactly like herself and stubbornly not disappearing. ‘I thought we could chat.’
