Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
He turns to Sarah and offers to shake her hand. “Do you take on commissions? If I wanted a particular view painted or some such thing? I understand that would cost more, of course.”
“Sure, I could probably do that from a photo.”
“Would you be willing to visit the place so you can see it firsthand?”
“Depending on how far away it is, I don’t see why not.”
He looks back at the other work and then smiles at Sarah. “My wife’s birthday is coming up, and I do believe I just found the perfect gift for her.”
“How exciting,” Sarah replies. “I’ll give you my email address, and we will work out the details.”
“Wonderful. Oh, she’s just going to love this.”
The two exchange information, and when he’s gone, Sarah just stares at me, as if she can’t believe it.
“I think you’d better have business cards made,” I inform her.
“We also need to do a show,” Wayne says from the counter. “Perhaps for the holidays?”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Sarah says, but then launches herself into my arms and hugs me close. “Who knew that I could do this?”
“I did.” I kiss her softly. “I knew, pretty girl. I’m proud of you. And this is only the beginning.”
“I need supplies,” she says. “And I’d like to start painting out in the guesthouse again. I like painting out there.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I assure her, thrilled to see her so full of passion for her art. “You have to work where it feels right.”
“With you.” She says it with a whisper and tips her forehead against my own. “It feels right with you.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah
“I don’t know what to say.” I’m standing next to Scott, who’s holding my hand, as we stare down at the hole in the ground. Scott called the city and got the information for the correct way to do this, so he dug the hole before I got here.
Thank God, there wasn’t someone else buried in this exact location. Grandma must be a little to the left.
Or the right.
How should I know?
“We don’t have to say anything,” is his reply. “We can just drop her down there and cover her up.”
“That seems cold, even for her.” I breathe in deeply and look around the small graveyard. “You know, it’s never scared me to be out here. It’s not creepy at all.”
I look down at the simple, plastic box that Mom’s remains came in. It fits her. She was always simple and didn’t have nice things.
If she did, she sold them for drugs.
“You were a shitty mother,” I say at last. “Probably the worst one I know of. Maybe not the worst in history, but pretty fucking horrible. You let your babies suffer and watched them be hungry. Hurt. Beaten by their own father. You were selfish, mean, and an all-around bitch.”
“Don’t hold back,” Scott mutters, but he chuckles.
“Oh, there’s no need to hold back.” I sigh and lean my head on my brother’s shoulder. “All we ever wanted was for them to love us.”
“Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. And there’s no need to stand here and be sad about it. To be sad about her dying.”
“I’m not sad.” I look at the other headstones around us again. “I bet that most of these people had loved ones who cried over their graves when they died. They had flowers and people who grieved for them.”
“Probably,” he agrees.
“I think the saddest part of this is that literally no one in the world gives a shit that Melissa Pedersen is dead. No one grieves for her. She’ll be buried here, without a stone, and when you and I are gone, no one will even remember that she lived.”
“A waste.” His voice is hard. “She was a waste of human flesh.”
“I’m so glad that it’s not me.” Tears come now, and they run unchecked down my cheeks. “If I’d stayed with Anthony, when my time came, no one would care. He made sure of that. Yes, Mom’s situation is different because it’s her own doing, but Christ, Scott, I’m glad it’s not me.”
“No one wants to imagine this.” He shakes his head slowly. “That when they’re gone, no one will care. It’s pathetic. And like you said, it’s her own doing. Had she been a decent fucking human, she’d have all of Huckleberry Bay here to say their goodbyes. She didn’t give a shit about anyone here, including us.”
“No. She didn’t. So, I hope you finally rest easy, Mom, because God knows that you weren’t restful when you were here.”
I squat and place her box in the ground, and then Scott covers her up. I place a single red rose over the grave, and then we step away and walk toward our cars.
“We won’t do this for Dad,” Scott says, his voice firm. “Tanner asked me about it earlier, and I want to make it clear to you that if and when we ever get the call that he’s finally dead, they can keep his damn remains. I don’t care what they do with him, but he’s not coming here, and we aren’t doing this for him.”