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Shatters me. I fall to my knees.
“Don’t wait for me. I don’t want you to be there for me, not ever. Stay out of my life, and I won’t breathe a word about what you’ve done.” She is her mother’s daughter. Venom running through her veins.
I close my eyes and touch the spot where my heart once beat. Silence in its place.
Emma returns her attention to Evan, crying and calling to him.
Already forgetting me.
We are each other’s mirrors, reflecting the other’s pain.
I held her while she relived her death and faced her fear.
She cut me down so I could finally confront mine.
I am and will continue to be the heir of my father’s disease.
No one will ever love me as long as I am him.
Jonathan is on his way over,” Priscilla announces, stepping onto the veranda where I’m enjoying my morning coffee.
“Just Jonathan? Not Sadie?”
My wife gives me a sharp look, perceptive as ever.
“Oh. You think—”
“Oh, I know,” she finishes. Priscilla sits on the chair across from me. “This is the first time he’s returned to Hollis without her. Of course he’s coming to ask for our blessing. Do you intend to give it?”
I set down my mug and take a contemplative pause before answering. “I have conditions.”
“I expect nothing less.” She stands, kisses my cheek, and returns inside. We’ve been married for over twenty-five years, and that brilliant woman continues to surprise me. I can never predict her mind or her heart. Except that I’m lucky to still be in it.
Magda escorts Jonathan outside when he arrives. Priscilla and I attempt a casual façade, but the three tiers of pastries and fresh-squeezed lemonade probably give us away.
“Jonathan!” Priscilla calls to him when he nears. “Come join us. Magda has been busy, and we need your help.”
I give him a cordial nod, hoping to put him at ease. “She made some fresh-squeezed lemonade too. Go ahead and pour yourself a glass.”
He does and sits in the chair across from us without taking a sip. The boy made an effort, dressed in a sweater over a collared shirt and khakis. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jonathan in anything other than athletic wear and jeans—not including prom.
“It’s nice to see you,” I say, watching him struggle with how to begin. “Where are you coming from?”
“School.” He swallows nervously and clamps the glass between his palms.
“That’s a long drive. This must be important.” Priscilla gives him a wink. There are not many women who can pull off the gesture with the intention clear—encouragement, not flirting. My wife has many ways of conveying hidden messages. Some I’d prefer not to be on the receiving end of.
Jonathan relaxes. “You know?”
“Perhaps,” she says innocently. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask, see if we guessed correctly.”
“Aw, Priscilla. I was hoping you’d let him sweat it out for another few minutes,” I tease. Magda harrumphs from the open window, disappointed with our antics. She would’ve made him sweat through the entire thing, turning it into an interrogation, no doubt.
“I hope you know how much I love your daughter,” Jonathan begins, setting down the glass of lemonade before he drops it.
I nod. That’s undeniable. Especially after all they’ve endured together.
“She’s helped me understand what love and commitment really mean. She’s been by my side, through the hardest and best times of my life. She’s my best friend.
