Page 76 of Under Pink Skies

Chapter 30

Abbie

Thunderedrolledinthedistance as I made my way up the familiar mountain path leading to Westfall Cemetery. I prayed the rain held off long enough for me to say my piece and work up the courage to confront everything I spent the last two months trying to run away from. The damp earth gave easily beneath my boots, weeks of early autumn rain having softened the ground beneath me. I took a deep breath, taking the earthy mountain air into my lungs, calming my heart rate and my mind along with it.

When the wrought-iron fence of the cemetery came into view, I exhaled, long and deep.

I took a moment to examine the other headstones in the cemetery. I recognized some of Imogen’s relatives, as well as some of the original founding members of Watford. And then I found Jim Pearson’s.

I pressed my fingers to the top of his gravestone. The stone bore his dates of service, rank, and a quick note about being a devoted father and husband, etched in the style of a traditional veteran grave marker. My chest ached as I felt the weight of all that was lost when this man died. It was the same weight I felt when my mom died.

“I wanted to say thank you. Mari is a gift, and so is Forest Grove. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to know you.”

The words didn’t suffice, but my mind was already scattered. I made a silent promise that I would come back and speak with him at a later time.

“I messed up, Mom,” I said, kneeling in front of her headstone. “I messed up, and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Dad’s been sick,” I said, wrapping my arms around my chest as I continued pacing. “I know we’ve talked about this before. He misses you so much. I don’t think he knows how to live in a world without you. To be honest, I don’t really know how to either. I feel like I’ve just been floating for the last few years. I put everything on hold and learned how to run the store. I made sure your hard work didn’t go to waste. But now . . . there’s so much more I want to do, Mom.”

Then I saw them.

A small bundle of fresh daisies, tucked behind the bouquet Connor and I had left during our visit a few days prior.

In my years of coming to visit my mom’s grave, I never saw another soul here with me. There was only one person who would have taken the time to come up here and place flowers at my mom’s grave.

Connor had comehere. Not to my apartment. But to talk to Mom.

I picked up one daisy, holding it between my fingers.

“I won’t ask what he came to talk to you about,” I said, drawing in a shaky breath. “But I love him, and he loves me, and even though we’re not teenagers anymore, we’ve still been idiots about this. Did it have something to do with that?”

A gentle breeze rustled the trees around the cemetery. It was the forest warning me of an approaching storm, but I also believed it was my mother’s way of saying yes.

“I’m scared,” I said. “I don’t know if you ever felt like this with Dad, but I’m scared. This love feels more intense than what we had when we were younger, and I don’t know how that’s possible. But there’s a voice in my head reminding me that this feels right. No matter how many times I try to convince myself that I can’t have this, I can’t stop myself from wanting it. I’m tired of fighting it.”

I took in a deep breath, tucking the wilting petal into the pocket of my jacket.

“I love you. You would want me to live my life. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Even if it meant confronting those fears head on.

Mari’s words rang in my head as I made my way back down the mountain.

We were kids when we fell in love. For the longest time, I’d thought we had it all—loving parents and a future together.

But that wasn’t true. I’d had that. Connor’d hadme.

I was long past, holding his departure over his head. I didn’t want to waste time arguing about the past or what we could have done differently. We’d already been apart for five years. Five years of memories and experiences we missed out on. Just because we needed that time to grow and learn didn’t mean I wanted to waste another second.

Thunder clapped as I slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine to life.

The sky opened up and rain came down in droves as I sat there, contemplating what the hell I was going to say.

The car was moving towards the Watford campsite before my brain had caught up.

I couldn’t think or rationalize my way out of this, because lovewasn’trational. Running through the woods to talk to my dead mother minutes before a massive storm hit and subsequently driving through the storm to hopefully intercept the love of my life before he left town thinking I didn’t want him? That wasn’t rational either.

It was ridiculous. It was the kind of stuff you see in movies.

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