My voice doesn’t shake, which surprises me.
“Maybe it’s selfish. Or maybe the universe is weird and likes irony.” I huff out a breath. “I’m Hayden’s nanny. Well, Presley and Jemmy’s nanny. And they’re kind of amazing.” A small smile tugs at my mouth.
“Presley’s art is unreal. When I was her age, I could barely manage a stick figure. But she notices things most adults don’t. When she draws, it’s like she’s capturing how things feel, not just how they look. She’s going to do amazing things. I can feel it. And Jemmy…” I shake my head as a laugh escapes.
“He’s obsessed with dinosaurs. Like, truly believes he is one. Bath time involves a lot of roaring. Loud, very convincing roaring. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained.”
I pause, as my smile fades into something gentler. Something sadder.
“They love their dad so much,” I say softly. “They light up the second he walks into a room, even when he doesn’t realize it. Or maybe because he doesn’t think he deserves it.”
I swallow, my gaze dropping to the roses at the base of the stone, wondering if he left them for her.
“He’s kind and patient and exhausted in this quiet way that breaks my heart. He praises Presley’s art like it belongs in the Louvre. He lets Jemmy climb all over him like he’s a jungle gym, even when he’s clearly running on fumes.”
I glance at the gray sky, recalling our conversation last night. Everything he shared with me. The pain, the anguish, the blame. I feel the weight of it.
“He thinks he failed them. Failed you.” My voice drops. “Blames himself for what happened to you. And the weight of that blame…” I push out a quivering exhale through the ache slowly building in my throat.
“I think he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to feel anything good again. That he doesn’t deserve to be happy. But if anyone does, it’s him. And I know this is wrong. Know I shouldn’t be telling you all these things, considering you were his wife. But when I’m with him, when I see him smile…a part of me wants to be the reason he smiles. And I hate myself a little for noticing him. For the way my chest tightens when I see him, or the way I want to reach for him when he looks like he’s drowning in his own thoughts. In his guilt.”
I press my lips together, breathing through the emotions overwhelming me as I think of Hayden.
“He deserves peace. And I wish… I wish he could forgive himself. Even a little.” I stare into the distance, smiling sadly before clearing my throat. “But I’m not here to tell you about Hayden. I’m not sure why Iamhere. I guess I just wanted to say thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive.” I press my hand to my chest, relishing in the steady thumping of my heart.
Herheart.
“I promise I’ll take care of them for you. All three of them.”
I touch my hand to the stone once more. Then I turn my attention back to Sergeant Puppers. “In the mood for a pup cup?”
He barks, enthusiastic and entirely unburdened. Truth be told, I feel slightly unburdened, too. Likesharing my thoughts and feelings with Cora’s gravestone lightened my own emotional load.
With a firm grip on the leash, I start back the way we came, the cemetery still empty.
Except for a woman with almost white hair standing by Ryan Lawrence’s headstone.
Hayden’s mom.
I lower my head, attempting to slip past without her noticing me, not sure how I’ll explain my presence in a cemetery. But then I hear her voice.
“Rowan? Is that you?”
I stiffen, cursing under my breath before facing her, feigning surprise at seeing her. “Mrs. Lawrence.”
“I told you. Call me Danielle.”
She approaches and wraps me in a warm hug. I can’t remember the last time my own parents showed me affection like this. Yet this woman who is practically a stranger does.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she pulls back.
I part my lips, struggling to come up with an explanation.
Visiting my boss’s dead wife whose heart now beats inside my chest seems like…a lot.
“I’ve always found cemeteries interesting,” I say dismissively. “That’s not too morbid, is it?”
“Not at all. There’s so much history here.” She gestures toward a small hill in the distance, two massive oak trees standing like sentinels guarding a cluster of weathered, slanted stones. “That’s where the foundersof this town are buried. A lot of families are, actually. Generations worth.”
