Graveminder by Melissa Marr Page B

twins, like everyone else in the room, were silent.
    Rebekkah didn’t move. “I never wanted you to hate me, and God knows I’ve tried to make nice with you, but right now, I don’t care. What I care about is that you are disrespecting Maylene in her own home. You have two choices: you can act civil, or you can get out.”
    Cissy shook off Liz’s hold and stepped forward. Her voice was lower now as she said, “I’ll never bother you again if you release your claim on my mother’s bequests. Just walk away from here, Rebekkah.”
    Rebekkah frowned. Release the claim on her bequests?
    “Cissy?” The sheriff walked up beside them. “How about we get a little air?”
    Rebekkah didn’t stay to find out if Cissy went with him. She turned and walked into her grandmother’s kitchen. It was full of people, some familiar and some not. Her visits home weren’t that frequent, and it had been years since she lived there, but every time she came home, Maylene seemed to want her to accompany her everywhere. The result was that she knew a fair number of the Claysville residents even though she had only truly lived there a few years.
    “Ladies.” Byron had followed her into the kitchen. “Would you give us a minute?”
    “So, I thought that went fairly well.” Rebekkah forced an I’m-not-falling-apart expression to her face before she turned to look at him. She knew he’d see through it, but she wanted the illusion that she hadn’t already slipped into the habit of letting down her guard around him.
    He snorted. “She was waiting for that.”
    “I’d ask why, but I don’t think you know any better than I do.” Rebekkah looked at the kitchen floor. “The rug’s gone. My grandmother died right here, and they had to get rid of the rug because of it, didn’t they?”
    “Don’t do this to yourself, not right now. ” Byron wrapped his arms around her.
    “That was a yes.” Rebekkah leaned into his embrace. “I don’t understand why Cissy wants to hurt me. I don’t want to know that Maylene ...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t want her to be dead.”
    “I can’t change that.” He held her for a few moments, and when she relaxed a little, he asked, “Want me to kick Cissy’s ass?”
    Rebekkah laughed a little, but the laugh didn’t completely hide the sob.
    They were still standing like that when Evelyn came in a few minutes later. She was only a few years older than they were, but she’d always had a maternal streak to her. When Byron had spilled his first bike during a race out at the reservoir, it was Evelyn who hovered over him until Chris got him to promise he’d go to the doctor and got Ella and Rebekkah to promise to call him to wake him every forty-five minutes to make sure he wasn’t concussed. Being the sheriff’s wife and mother of four kids had made her even more of a nurturer.
    “Cissy and her daughters agreed that it was probably for the best if she went home to rest a bit,” Evelyn said.
    With a watery smile, Rebekkah turned to face her. “Thank you.”
    Evelyn waved it off. “It wasn’t me, shug. Christopher does a good job of handling difficult women.” She lowered her voice. “He had to learn that skill with his sisters. He comes from high-strung women.”
    “Well, please thank him, too.” Rebekkah gave a small laugh. When she’d lived here, the McInney family had been responsible for more than its fair share of disturbing the peace, and to hear Maylene talk, one of the reasons the town council made Chris sheriff was that he knew all the troublemakers—or was related to them.
    “Everything will be okay, Rebekkah.” Evelyn pulled out a chair. “And it will be easier once you get a little food in you. Grief is exhausting, and you can’t keep up your strength on an empty stomach. Come on.” She patted the chair. “Sit.”
    Obediently, Rebekkah did so.
    Evelyn looked at Byron. “You go on and see if your father’s here yet. He’s hiding it well enough, but