“How did that go over?” Claire said.
“I calmed down as soon as I saw she was okay,” he said. “When we got married I promised not to try to change her. That’s easier to say than to put into practice.”
“She won’t change, anyway.”
“No,” he said. “I did convince her to get some self-defense training; at least then it will be a fair fight. I suggest you do the same.”
“I think my detective work days are behind me,” Claire said. “I want to settle down, get my life in order, and adopt a kid.”
“That will be a relief to Ed,” Scott said. “He is still in that picture, isn’t he?”
“Definitely,” Claire said.
“I’m sorry about Laurie, but I’m glad you’re going to give Ed a chance. You couldn’t find a better man.”
“It was always going to be Ed,” Claire said. “Even if Laurie had lived.”
They were quiet for a bit, watching Curtis’s tractor pulling the hay wagon around the pond while Hannah tried to keep Sammy from falling off.
“Eugene seems to be doing well out here,” Scott said.
“He’s not well at all,” Claire said, and told Scott about the complications from the medicine. “He might even be worse off than before.”
“Poor little guy,” Scott said. “He just never catches a break.”
They watched as Sammy took wads of hay and rubbed them in someone’s hair.
“Hey, Claire,” Scott said. “I need to clean up my Sunflower Street house, and Laurie’s things are still there.”
“Hmm,” Claire said. “Did you call Daphne, his ex?”
“She said donate whatever it is, because she doesn’t want anything.”
“Maybe that’s what you should do, then.”
“There are papers, personal things, and a journal,” he said. “I didn’t read it, but I thought you might want to have it.”
A journal.
She didn’t know Laurie kept a journal.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” she said. “Thanks for asking me.”
“He was a good guy,” Scott said, and handed her a key.
“I know,” Claire said.
Scott stood up, rested his hand on her head for a moment, and then went back into the house.
Claire watched the tractor pulling the hay wagon, and listened to the music echoing off the hills on the other side of the valley.
Ed came around the side of the house and paused at the bottom of the steps.
“Care for some company?” he asked.
“If it’s you, always,” Claire said.
The next morning, Claire woke up before the sun came up, dressed, and left the house before her father woke up. The air outside was downright chilly, so she ran to warm herself up. It felt good to run, breathing the cool air down into her lungs and exhaling steam. She crossed Rose Hill Avenue, which looked deserted, cut through the alley behind PJ’s Pizza, and ran up the alley behind Sunflower Street.
Her hands were trembling as she unlocked the back door. Scott had stacked some boxes in the kitchen for her to use. It was cold inside, so she lit the gas fire in the fireplace and made some coffee. After she felt warmed up, she took some boxes down the hallway to the bedroom, the one in which she had slept with Laurie, both in her dreams and in reality.
Memories flooded back, and she let herself drown in them.
His bathrobe hung on the back of the bedroom door; she held it to her face and inhaled his scent. She took his clothes out of the drawers and closet, carefully folded them and placed them in a box on the bed. She got a plastic bag out of the kitchen to put his toiletries in before she placed them in the box. The spare change he had left on the dresser she put in her own pocket.
She opened one of the bedside tables but it was empty; the other held the journal. It was a plain, ring-bound notebook with a blue cardboard cover, on which the year was written. She riffled the pages; it looked as if half the pages had been written on in Laurie’s spidery black penmanship. She set it aside while she finished cleaning and packing up his things.
She took the notebook back to the living room, where she could sit by the fire and stay warm. She held it in her hands, listening for him in her thoughts.
“Should I read it, Laurie?” she asked out loud.
No piano music played, no pithy quips popped up in response.
“I could just burn it,” she said.
But there was no answer from Laurie.
He was gone.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Betsy Grandstaff and Terry Hutchison, my most excellent first readers. A huge hug to John Gillispie, a meticulous editor and good friend. Thank you to P.A. and Sarah for giving me the best day job a person could hope for, and for being such good friends. Thank you to my family and friends for supporting and encouraging me, and for being happy for me. Thank you to everyone who bought my books this year, took the time to write reviews on Amazon, and sent me sweet emails. Thank you to all the people at BookBub for giving my books the opportunity to be found. June Bug is still here, and George has turned into the nicest dog. How blessed I am. How grateful. Thank you.
Books by Pamela Grandstaff:
Rose Hill Mystery Series:
Rose Hill
Morning Glory Circle
Iris Avenue
Peony Street
Daisy Lane
Lilac Avenue
Hollyhock Ridge
Sunflower Street
Books for children:
June Bug Days and Firefly Nights
Ella’s New Hat and Her Terrible Cat
Terry Lee’s Home for Bluebirds (Photographs by Terry Hutchison)
Sunflower Street (Rose Hill Mysteries Book 8) Page 24