Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

" A nd now we ask friends and family to say their final goodbyes, placing a flower with Ward as we lay him to rest. Erin?"

She stared at the priest she hired for the service. Her gloved fingers clutched the single yellow rose he'd given her when they arrived at the cemetery after the church mass. Harrison stood by her side, but he refused to accept a rose or act as a pallbearer. He said he'd pay to have him hauled away and hadn't said much since.

As others watched her expectantly, grateful for the shelter of her sunglasses, she stepped forward. A muddy path had been cleared out of the snow leaving a cramped area for the mourners to stand.

Harrison caught her elbow as her high heel sunk onto the AstroTurf carpet surrounding the grave and she dropped her flower onto the polished wood surface of the coffin.

No thought entered her mind aside from the fact that it was kind of her brother to make sure she didn't slip or fall. She stepped back and looked at the ground.

"Now, friends," the priest invited.

The wind cut across the land, teasing the hem of her black dress and chilling her nose. The shuffle of feet over the frozen ground mixed with the subdued rasp of clothing shifting as several of the older townsfolk approached the grave. A few coughed and cleared their throats.

As expected, her father had a good turnout. More people probably showed up for him than would ever show up for her.

She watched the yellow roses pile up and in the distance, doors opened and closed as people went back to the heat of their cars.

"Your father was a special man."

Erin looked up, not knowing the older gentleman who spoke to her.

"My condolences to you both," the man said, then nodded, walking toward the line of cars.

"Let's go," Harrison whispered in her ear.

But Mr. and Mrs. McCullough approached before they could sneak away.

Mrs. McCullough pulled her into a hug and Erin tensed. "I'm so sorry for your loss, dearie. Your dad will surely be missed." She went on to hug Harrison, but he did not hug her back. He did, however, shake Mr. McCullough's hand.

Erin glanced to the left, seeing several of their children waiting. Why were they all there? They didn't know her dad as well as their parents' generation. And they certainly weren't there for her.

Then she saw Finn and mirrored his sad smile. They were there because he asked them to come. For the first time that day, she worried she might cry.

He whispered something to his wife, and they stepped forward, placing two flowers on the casket and turning to her.

"Hey," he greeted, brushing a brief kiss on her numb cheek. "How you holdin' up?"

"I'm okay."

Mallory reached for her gloved hand and squeezed. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Erin."

"Thank you."

Finn said a few words to Harrison, all surface talk with no real meaning. The other McCulloughs didn't approach. When Finn and Mallory walked away, they followed, as did Mrs. McCullough's two sisters and their husbands.

Erin sucked in a breath when the only person who remained was Giovanni. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but she knew he looked at her.

"I'll meet you in the car," Harrison said, leaving her alone at the graveside.

Giovanni slowly approached but paused to lay his flower on her father's grave. He whispered something, but the wind stole his voice, then he made the sign of the cross.

Her heart thundered in her chest when he turned and faced her. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Why was he there? "I thought you left on Sunday."

"That was the plan. But it didn't feel right, leaving things the way we had. I wanted to call, but I don't have your number and…with everything going on, I didn't want to intrude on your family. God, Erin, I'm so sorry. How are you handling everything?"

In the distance, cars drove away—back to their ordinary lives, nothing really disturbed beyond the morning they all shared.

"I'm fine."

"This is a lot to process. If you need someone to talk to?—"

"I don't."

He stopped, nodding tightly and taking a step back. "At least take my number. Maybe if you?—"

"I'm okay, Giovanni. Really. I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine." She couldn't bear his fake sentiment nor did she want to consider that it might be sincere. "I hope you…"

What? What did she hope?

He watched her expectantly.

"Good luck with your comedy career."

"Right." He didn't smile as he turned away. And she hated how much it hurt watching him drive off.

Harrison waited inside the car, seats warmed and the scent of luxury leather filling the space. "I'm leaving tonight."

Her stare shot to him. "What?"

He put the car into drive and navigated over the plowed roads. "The coroner will get you the death certificates and then you can close out all his accounts. I don't care what the will says. Do whatever you want with the house and the store."

"You can't put all this on me, Harrison. I need your help."

"I can't stay here," he snapped. "This town, these people… I don't belong here anymore."

"Why is it always about you? What about me?" He was leaving and it felt just as bad as it had years ago when he abandoned her. "Do you think I want to deal with any of this shit?"

"Then don't. Sell the house as-is and start your fucking life, Erin. He's not your excuse anymore."

"Fuck you!" she yelled, glaring out the window as they drove down Main Street.

Cars filled the lot at O'Malley's, many of them familiar from the cemetery. She didn't plan a luncheon afterward because the church had cost six hundred dollars and that was all she could afford. Harrison had kept his word and paid for the embalming, casket, and grave, but he refused to spend a single cent on flowers or any of the other usual stuff funerals included.

Maybe this whole thing was just another attempt to appear normal in front of others. She hated keeping up the act, but she couldn't stand the chaos that hid below.

They didn't speak until they reached the house. As expected, Harrison wouldn't come inside.

"He's dead, Erin. Take whatever he had left and use it to start your life. He at least owes you that."

She held the car door and stared through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. "He is dead," she agreed, "at least for me."

Her brother frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You're the one who can't face this."

"Oh, bullshit?—"

"You can't even walk in the house, Harrison! You accuse me of making excuses, but I stayed. I took it. I faced what you didn't have the balls to face."

"I don't have to listen to this," he snarled, but she continued to hold the car door open.

"You left me here and you never looked back. I was fifteen. You knew it would get worse for me with you gone, and you didn't care." Her jaw shook and tears trembled from her eyes, spilling down her chilled cheeks. "I'm not surprised that you're leaving again, leaving me to deal with the crap you can't handle. But don't you dare accuse me of being some willing victim of abuse. I fought back the best I could. I tried to fix it instead of running away."

"And like I told you before, you can't fix nasty when it's sewn into someone's soul."

Was she like her father? Was she just a hopeless, nasty soul?

"Well, Harrison, I guess you win then."

With that, she slammed the door and went into the house, feeling as if she'd lost her entire life trying to fix the unfixable and gaining nothing but inheriting some of her father's awful traits in return.

The house was silent and still. She hung up her coat and stood in the center of the living room, staring at his empty chair. Looking for something, but nothing was there.

Moving to the hall, she stilled, staring at her bedroom door then his. She pivoted and stood in the kitchen. The silence was deafening.

Her heels clicked over the linoleum as she crossed the room and picked up the stale cake, still sitting on the stove uncovered from days before. She screamed and hurled the dish at the far wall. The heavy glass cracked in half and the cake fell onto the floor, landing in a spongy mess on the kitchen floor.

The doorbell rang and she stilled, silencing her panting as she glanced out the window. A pearl white SUV parked out front, but she didn't recognize it.

Leaving the mess on the floor, she went to answer the door, only seeing a small figure through the curtain covering the glass. Opening the door, she found a woman holding a basket, her face hidden by the fuzz of her hat as she looked down.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello, Erin."

Erin took a step back as the woman looked up. "Skylar? What are you doing here?"

She handed her the large basket filled with muffins and other baked goods. "I'm sorry we missed the funeral. I'm sure you have plenty of food from everyone else stopping by, but I wanted to bring you something. I know, when I'm sad, sweets are the best comfort food. I hope you're not allergic to nuts. I put them in the brownies."

Erin blinked, the weight of the basket sinking into her arms and anchoring her into this strange reality. Was she dreaming?

She and Skylar had once worked together for Rhett Buchanan, the Jasper Falls mayor, now Skylar's husband. Erin hated how hard Rhett fell for her, and Skylar hated Erin for her own reasons. In the end, Skylar convinced Rhett to fire her.

Last year, just before Thanksgiving, she'd run into Skylar on Main Street. She'd said some nice things, apologizing for the way things had turned out, but it felt too much like charity and Erin had said something snide and walked away.

She glanced at her stomach. "You're pregnant?"

Skylar smiled. "The baby's due in April."

"Congratulations." She shifted under the heavy basket.

"Well, I'm sure the last thing you need is more company, so I won't keep you. We just wanted you to know you were in our thoughts."

Was this a political thing? "Thanks?"

Skylar hesitated then turned to leave. Erin watched her drive away before shutting the door.

She placed the basket on the kitchen table and grabbed the broom. Once she swept up the mess on the floor and threw it away, she pulled back the plastic wrapping and bow.

"Sending love and condolences. The Buchanans." She set the card aside and frowned over the homemade goodies.

The basket smelled incredible but the gesture was bittersweet as it reminded her how citizens typically acted in small towns. When people passed away, neighbors sent food.

Aside from Skylar, no one had been by. They all loved Ward, but he was gone. They put flowers at the hardware store because no one wanted to visit her.

She unwrapped a plate of cookies and bit into the soft, buttery dough. Her eyes rolled at the heavenly flavor and she dropped into a chair.

She tasted everything, then wrapped each delicious item up so they would hold their flavor and freshness. Maybe that basket had been just a political gimmick, but it wasn't from the bakery. It was from Skylar's home, and that meant something to Erin. She could taste the care that went into every treat.

Rummaging through the junk drawer, she searched for a pen and paper. As soon as she found a notepad and pen, she sat back down to write out a thank you.

Her pen hovered over the blank sheet. She wanted to tell her how much she appreciated the basket and how much it meant that they not only thought about her but took the time to make her such a personal gift. Sweets, like Skylar said, were the best comfort food.

She wanted to say thank you and mention that this went above and beyond, considering how awful she'd been when they worked together. She wanted to apologize for coming off as a bitch. She wanted to confess some of the terrible things she'd done because Skylar's easygoing cheerfulness triggered Erin's insecurities, and she hated working alongside someone who made everything look so easy.

But she didn't write any of that. She couldn't even bring herself to scribble the words thank you because thank you wasn't enough. Saying less would cheapen the gesture and sound insincere. Saying more would cost her emotions she couldn't afford. So she set down the pen and left everything in her heart unsaid.

Erin closed up the basket, tying the bow back around the pretty wrapping but unable to make it look as perfect as Skylar had. She didn't expect any more visitors and she wanted to make the basket last as long as possible. She wanted to savor this rare kindness and remember how it felt.

Slipping off her shoes, she sat with her stocking-covered feet pressed into the cold floor and smiled at the basket. Maybe Skylar knew how much this meant to her, the same way Finn knew, after all the terrible things she'd done to him, that she wasn't a completely horrible person.

The doorbell rang again, and a sharp jolt pierced her heart. Her mind ran through the possible people it could be and her gut said it was Harrison coming back to apologize. She was sure of it when she saw the tall, broad figure through the sheer curtain covering the door.

He was so weird, ringing the bell. "Just come in."

The door opened and she froze as Giovanni stepped inside. "If you insist."