Page 151 of Mourner for Hire
Here we are.
A million more questions fly through my mind, but I don’t ask them now. No, now, I just run my thumbs over her cheekbones and tilt her face to my lips, kissing her softly. “Here we are.”
FIFTY-TWO
VADA
Five minutesbefore everyone’s arrival, Dominic and I stand on the back deck, twinkling lights illuminated, and tables draped in white linen are scattered around the side of the house like little ghosts on the beach.
The sun is high in the sky, and the eclipse is scheduled to take place in one hour.
“You did good, Vada,” he says, squeezing my shoulders closer to him.
I wrap my hands around his waist, breathing in a deep sense of joy and exhaling so much relief.
I did it. Eight weeks. Eight funerals. A whole lifetime of memories restored.
Lucy practically runs up the pathway leading toward us with her camera slung around her neck. She immediately grabs her eclipse glasses from the tin bucket on the porch.
“Who’s ready?” she shouts as she leaps into my arms, almost knocking me over and making me let out a laugh.
“Lucy, wait, honey. Your tripod,” Joelle says, coming up behind her. Their daughter reaches Eli first and takes the tripod from him, then whirls around and heads toward the beach.
Joelle and Eli climb the porch steps hand in hand with bright smiles on their faces.
“Annabelle would have loved this,” Joelle says, giving me a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks for feeding me,” I respond, tears springing to my eyes.
“It was my pleasure.”
“Proud of you.” Eli’s smile is soft and brimming with sympathy for his friend of many, many years as he takes Dominic in his arms.
Her eyes widen as they land on the blue pickup truck parking along the street. “Speaking of! Food is here. Boys, help my parents unload. Vada, where do you want everything?”
I direct her to the buffet set up along the front porch. Each table, even the buffet, is scattered with bouquets of hydrangeas and mums in every shade of fall while still holding on to the brightness of summer.
That’s the beauty of a season’s change. Seasons collide—the memories, the circumstances—and we get to watch it all change and remain beautiful even when it disrupts everything we know to be true.
“These are my parents. Donny and Alberta.”
The elderly couple walking down the pathway to the cottage beam at me. They look exactly how I expected them to. Donny most certainly knows his way around a seasoning cabinet, and Alberta looks like she has never used a recipe for her baked goods in her life.
I reach my hand out to shake theirs, but Donny pulls me into his arms and then Alberta does the same. My emotions rise from my chest and into my throat.
“Thanks for all the biscuits,” I say. “And the extra special sauce.”
Alberta chuckles and pats my hands as she holds them. “Thanks for hanging around.”
I turn around and see the buffet table is fullycovered in food from the Hungry Hermit. Sweet potato fries, regular fries, fried fish, crab legs, coleslaw, Cajun shrimp and grits, clam chowder, smoked salmon, and cheddar biscuits. Dominic comes up next to me and plucks a potato out of the tray and pops it into his mouth.
“Hey, get a plate, you monster.”
“I thought we weren’t calling each other names anymore,” he teases, grabbing another fry and offering it to me as a bribe. I take it willingly. “There are so many things I am yet to understand, but I’ll tell you one thing: God really did his thing with potatoes.”
I laugh, and he kisses me. I sigh into his arms, holding onto this feeling of comfort until I’m whisked away to chat with Marylou and Bernie.
Jonesy and Connor are here, too, chatting with Ella and Janice. All of Annabelle’s friends are here, along with just about everyone in this town, bundled in sweaters but still barefoot in the sand. Music blares from the speakers, and there is laughter and reminiscing. This is exactly what Annabelle wanted, and now I see why.
