As if he wanted to confide in her about his parents, yet couldn’t find the words. Probably because he’d never talked about them to anyone. Not even his aunt Maggie. He shook his head faintly, then turned and took off toward the lake.
She wanted to go after him, but she knew he wanted to be alone.
Unlike her.
Chapter Twelve
An hour later, they were headed to the grocery store for Gummy Bears and food to fill their mini-fridge. They’d barely spoken a word since their talk after breakfast and an awkward silence filled the air, until they rounded a corner and Olivia muttered, “A cemetery.”
Ethan followed her gaze to a cemetery set on a hill overlooking a lake.
“I wonder if my mom’s buried there.”
“Probably only two, maybe three, cemeteries in such a small town.” He took a left and drove up a narrow road alongside the cemetery. At the top of the hill a wrought iron sign, arched over the entrance, read
St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery
. “Are you Catholic?”
She nodded. He went to turn in and she grabbed his arm. “No, stop.”
He stopped under the gate.
Her hand still resting on his arm, she stared down the gravel road leading into the cemetery. “I’m not ready. It’ll be too difficult after visiting her grave in San Francisco for the past twenty-two years. I visited my mom’s grave for the first time when I was seven years old. My dad wouldn’t take me and I threw a fit until he let my nanny Maria take me. Maria ended up quitting. On that Mother’s Day, my dad dropped me off at the cemetery’s entrance, but refused to go in. He never went to see her grave as far as I know, probably because he knew she wasn’t buried there and couldn’t handle the guilt of watching me cry over an empty grave.”
“My mother is buried in that same cemetery. Yesterday was the first time I’ve set foot in there.”
Her gaze darted to him, but he stared straight ahead. He wouldn’t be able to continue if he saw her sympathetic look. And he wanted to.
“My aunt used to try to get me to go with her on my mother’s birthday and Mother’s Day, but I couldn’t. As the years went by it got harder to go. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since yesterday. Wondering if my aunt and uncle could afford a nice tombstone. My mother deserved one.”
“Maybe it’s time to visit her grave and see. I think your aunt Maggie would appreciate you going with her, especially after the parole hearing. Her next visit is probably going to be a very emotional one for her. She could use your strength.”
He nodded. “My mother’s birthday is next month. Maybe I’ll take Maggie to visit her grave. Buy a new tombstone if needed.”
Olivia brushed her hand down his arm and covered his hand with the warmth of hers. He peered over at her, gazing deep into her eyes. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Yeah, it was time.
• • •
They continued toward town and encountered a boutique/art gallery housed in a white cottage with hot pink trim.
“Can we stop here?” Olivia asked, sounding like a kid spotting a McDonalds.
“Katie’s Kottage?” Ethan didn’t sound thrilled, but he turned in. “Gee, maybe I’ll find a cow cookie jar or corn husk wall decoration for my apartment.”
She smiled. “Be careful. It might start looking like a home. Wouldn’t want that.”
“Yeah, a cookie jar without any cookies.”
“You don’t even keep food in your house?”
“I slept in my apartment five nights in the past month. No need for food.”
“Then keep your gun in the cookie jar, like Rockford did. But that’ll be hard since you probably sleep with your gun. When you sleep.”
“Guess the cookie jar is out.”
“You could buy it with the hope of one day having cookies.”
He smiled. “I don’t dream about having cookies.”
Why did she have the urge to go into the shop and find him the perfect cookie jar?
She stepped out of the SUV. “Who knows, maybe I’ll discover the next Chagall. A local artist
She wanted to go after him, but she knew he wanted to be alone.
Unlike her.
Chapter Twelve
An hour later, they were headed to the grocery store for Gummy Bears and food to fill their mini-fridge. They’d barely spoken a word since their talk after breakfast and an awkward silence filled the air, until they rounded a corner and Olivia muttered, “A cemetery.”
Ethan followed her gaze to a cemetery set on a hill overlooking a lake.
“I wonder if my mom’s buried there.”
“Probably only two, maybe three, cemeteries in such a small town.” He took a left and drove up a narrow road alongside the cemetery. At the top of the hill a wrought iron sign, arched over the entrance, read
St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery
. “Are you Catholic?”
She nodded. He went to turn in and she grabbed his arm. “No, stop.”
He stopped under the gate.
Her hand still resting on his arm, she stared down the gravel road leading into the cemetery. “I’m not ready. It’ll be too difficult after visiting her grave in San Francisco for the past twenty-two years. I visited my mom’s grave for the first time when I was seven years old. My dad wouldn’t take me and I threw a fit until he let my nanny Maria take me. Maria ended up quitting. On that Mother’s Day, my dad dropped me off at the cemetery’s entrance, but refused to go in. He never went to see her grave as far as I know, probably because he knew she wasn’t buried there and couldn’t handle the guilt of watching me cry over an empty grave.”
“My mother is buried in that same cemetery. Yesterday was the first time I’ve set foot in there.”
Her gaze darted to him, but he stared straight ahead. He wouldn’t be able to continue if he saw her sympathetic look. And he wanted to.
“My aunt used to try to get me to go with her on my mother’s birthday and Mother’s Day, but I couldn’t. As the years went by it got harder to go. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since yesterday. Wondering if my aunt and uncle could afford a nice tombstone. My mother deserved one.”
“Maybe it’s time to visit her grave and see. I think your aunt Maggie would appreciate you going with her, especially after the parole hearing. Her next visit is probably going to be a very emotional one for her. She could use your strength.”
He nodded. “My mother’s birthday is next month. Maybe I’ll take Maggie to visit her grave. Buy a new tombstone if needed.”
Olivia brushed her hand down his arm and covered his hand with the warmth of hers. He peered over at her, gazing deep into her eyes. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Yeah, it was time.
• • •
They continued toward town and encountered a boutique/art gallery housed in a white cottage with hot pink trim.
“Can we stop here?” Olivia asked, sounding like a kid spotting a McDonalds.
“Katie’s Kottage?” Ethan didn’t sound thrilled, but he turned in. “Gee, maybe I’ll find a cow cookie jar or corn husk wall decoration for my apartment.”
She smiled. “Be careful. It might start looking like a home. Wouldn’t want that.”
“Yeah, a cookie jar without any cookies.”
“You don’t even keep food in your house?”
“I slept in my apartment five nights in the past month. No need for food.”
“Then keep your gun in the cookie jar, like Rockford did. But that’ll be hard since you probably sleep with your gun. When you sleep.”
“Guess the cookie jar is out.”
“You could buy it with the hope of one day having cookies.”
He smiled. “I don’t dream about having cookies.”
Why did she have the urge to go into the shop and find him the perfect cookie jar?
She stepped out of the SUV. “Who knows, maybe I’ll discover the next Chagall. A local artist
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