Page 43 of Harts & Hurts

It took everything in me not to point out that what she actually wanted was for me to lose guardianship so that she could swoop in and offer to “help” raise Melrose herself. “I don’t believe you thought that Melrose might go into foster care. I think you just wanted me out of the picture.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes at me, and I narrowed mine right back at her. I was tired of her. If it took me beating her ass to get her to stand down once and for all, I was about to flip everything inside Good Bites on the Banks over.

Yolanda sighed heavily. It was the sound a person made when they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. I moved my gaze from Marissa to her mother. “It wasn’t even that I wanted you out of the picture. It was that I wanted you to understand that you don’t have the final say when it comes to my granddaughter.” Before I could jump in to correct her, she kept talking. “But after the phone call from Griffin, Mr. Hart sat me down, and we had a long conversation. And it turns out that, legally, you do have the final say. You and Griffin have the final say when it comes to Melrose.” She snatched a napkin from the table and dabbed at her eyes.

“And that was a hard pill to swallow because my brain and my heart told me that I could slip Melrose right into the place they used to hold for Fisher. And I was his mother. I made decisions for him, and nobody else could tell me any differently. It was my way or the highway. And for some reason, I expected it to be that way for Melrose. Even though Fisher and Ashlynn had said differently. Even though the judge said differently. I still had it in my mind that I could make the decisions. When you stood up to me, Anistyn, it really pissed me off. All I saw was red, and my first thought was that I needed to put you in your place. That was a crazy thing for me to think. I apologize for every action that came from that thought.”

“Okay.” It was the only thing I could think of to say. “Please allow me to have some time to sit with your words. Not to make you feel badly, but this has been a very painful season. It has been a season of tremendous loss for me—not just losing my sibling but losing the life I had before I lost my sister. I walked away from everything I’d built to fulfill Ashlynn and Fisher’s wishes. And it has felt like there’s been resistance every step of the way. I just need time to process my own thoughts and feelings.”

“I think that’s fair,” Griffin commented.

“I do too.” Mr. Hart agreed.

And the subject was dropped for the time being.

19

Griffin

Tara Hurt had organized what she called a “Ring of Light” ceremony right on the seashore. It seemed like every citizen of Fort Jackson and even some neighboring towns came out to support Tara in memorializing Fisher and Ashlynn.

She had Anthony, Amberlyn, Mr. Hurt, Anistyn, and me all pass out taper candles that were fitted with a drip cover to everybody in attendance. Once everybody had their candle, we made the largest human circle I had ever seen in life. Anistyn and I stood in the center of the circle, holding a curious Melrose.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Hurt began, speaking into a microphone that had been provided to her by somebody on the church’s tech team. “Tonight, we’re here to honor Ashlynn Marie Hurt-Hart and her beloved husband, Fisher Mark Hart. For some of you here, they’re just folklore—a tragic story that you heard on the news or saw on social media. Two young lovers who lost their lives in a vehicular accident, gone much too soon. For myself and my husband, Adam, as well as for Mark and Yolanda Hart, they were our children.” Her voice cracked. “They were our babies. As we stand here tonight, with the sun sinking lower and lower and the waves of the water crashing behind us, I’m reminded of the blessing of them being together in death as they were together in life.

“When they were in high school, I would catch them watching one another whenever they thought no one was looking.” The crowd chuckled lightly. “I kept wondering if there was something there, but the Melroses and the Harts didn’t . . . mix. We had a don’t ask, don’t tell understanding in our household. Ashlynn never said anything, and neither did I. Both of them, both Ashlynn and Fisher knew and understood the dynamics of Fort Jackson. They both knew that a love affair between a Melrose and a Hart would send the town into a tailspin. So they never spoke their feelings.

“At least they never spoke them until college. When they were away from the discord, the disdain, and the . . . dislike, they were free. They were free to love each other, and that’s what they did. I was so hurt when Ashlynn told me that they had gone to the local courthouse and gotten married the day after their college graduation. Our entire family had been on the campus of Hale-Williams University, and the Harts were there too. If they had just told us their plans, we could have gone to the courthouse with them. Celebrated with them. But they didn’t trust us enough to risk us thwarting their plan.

“As a mother, I have to live with that. I have to live with the idea that my own daughter thought I was more loyal to a feud than I was to celebrating the desires of her heart. I made a conscious decision that day that whomever my children loved, regardless of social status, gender, race, creed, or even last name, I would accept that person with my whole heart, and I’ve purposed myself to do just that.

“Fisher wasn’t just my daughter’s husband; he was truly my son-in-love. He was a great man, a provider, a protector, and the best thing that could’ve happened to my daughter romantically. I thank God for his love in her life. And I also thank God that the love they shared is still here for us to witness in the form of a grandbaby, Melrose Marie Hart. She is the embodiment of the Hurt/Hart connection. May it forever stand that love should be predicated on any and everything, except a person’s last name.

“Now, my husband is going to read a scripture. I’ll light my candle and use that flame to light my husband’s. He will use his flame to light the person’s on his right. We will continue to light flames until every person here is holding a burning candle. Fisher’s father, Mark Hart, will come up and lead us in a closing prayer. Then we’ll blow out our candles in unison. The evening will conclude with a movie in the park, over at Leo Hart Memorial Park. The movie tonight is one of Ashlynn and Fisher’s favorite, Fast & Furious Five. The kids tell me it’s just called Fast Five. So Fast Five.”

Once everybody’s candle was lit, Mr. Hurt came to the middle of the circle and lit mine. I almost lost my shit. The thought that I no longer had an older brother on Earth made my heart want to seize in my chest. It was a pain I wouldn’t wish on anybody. I lit Anistyn’s candle as she sobbed heavily, tears pouring from her eyes and dripping down on Melrose’s dress. I watched my dad come up, take the mic, and pray us out. It was heavy and painful. At the same time, it was cathartic—and needed.

Once the ceremony ended, Anistyn and I headed over to the park for the movie.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Anistyn told me as she spread out the blanket that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

“Where’d you get that blanket?”

She gave me a sheepish smirk. “My mother. She knew we didn’t know anything about this movie in the park thing, so she packed a little picnic basket of stuff for us.” She pointed at the oversized wicker basket off to the side.

“I guess that’s what I get for not riding over here with you, huh? I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” While she and Melrose had ridden with her parents, I lingered at the shore, catching up with some of my cousins and other family members.

She waved me off. “You’re good.” She took items out of the basket. There were a couple of Tupperware containers, a few sandwich bags, and several drinks. “She packed turkey sandwiches, potato salad, chips, and drinks.” She shook a Tupperware container. “Knowing my mom, this is probably carrots and celery sticks. She thinks you should have a veggie with every meal, no matter how casual the meal is.”

I dropped down to the blanket with a grin. Then I reached over and unbuckled the straps of Melrose’s car seat. She was almost eight months old and working to get the mechanics of crawling. She positioned herself on all fours and moved a few paces before sprawling out on the blanket like she’d given up. I cracked up.

“Her little forearms are so weak because we carry her too much. We’ve gotta let her practice crawling more.”

“Yeah.”

“Now that the house is no longer a construction zone, and I don’t have to worry about wet paint, paint chips, or dust, I’ll let her spend way more time on the floor.”

I nodded as Anistyn took a seat on the blanket with us. She grabbed one of the paper plates her mother had provided, then dug around in the baby bag until she found what she was looking for—food for Melrose. She opened the snack bags that had been filled with small cut fruit and hard-boiled eggs. She prepared the plate for Melrose while I prepared plates for us. Once her plate was ready, I slid it over toward her with a plastic spoon and a drink.