I went to pick it up and it slid away from me and across the room.
“Look, Harriette, we’re going to have to find some way to live together. I ain’t leaving.”
The pages ruffled before slamming shut again.
I wasn’t certain exactly what kind of reply that was, but I was going to take it as acceptance. She better concede since I sure as shit wasn’t going to.
TWENTY-FOUR
Sunday morning rolled around with far too much sun and heat. I was just going to drop off the food and make my excuses to Macy. I'd slept for shit. I missed my cat, and my house was too damn quiet without him.
Nolan had sent me a text that he’d covered breakfast which only heaped on the guilt since I hadn’t gotten up early to feed him. First day, and I’d already screwed up.
Not to mention I'd been too tired to strip my bed and change the sheets when I got home. The stupid scent of cinnamon had chased me through far too many dreams where I was running after some shadow.
My shitty love life? Harriette? Who knew?
Eventually, I'd given up on sleep and sat up reading Harriette's journal until the damn birds started singing.
I looked like crap, and I was sad because that poor woman had lost so much.
Is that what she’d wanted me to know?
She’d definitely made sure I’d noticed this particular diary when I had been in that room.
The pages had been full of her longing for a baby. Of her visits with friends and seeing their children grow and how she’d felt so bereft after her stillborn baby, along with four other miscarriages previously. Not exactly unheard of for the 1800s, but it was still heartbreaking.
Her husband had tried to make her feel better with the gift of the library room and the gorgeous stained glass to commemorate their child, but she hadn’t been able to come back from the sadness. She'd pushed her husband away after one last miscarriage until it was only her, alone, in that big house.
I slid my hand across my middle as I sat in my car in Macy's driveway. I couldn't imagine losing one baby, let alone so many.
With each page, she’d gotten progressively more distraught, remembering each loss.
The final page of the diary left me with so many more questions.
Did she get over her loss?
I knew there were more diaries in that room, and I needed to read them.
Not that Nolan would let me into that room, dammit.
I glanced around. Thankfully, his truck wasn’t here, so maybe I’d be able to get in and out before he showed up.
“Hey, Dahlia.”
I jumped at the voice. Dani, with her neon green hair, was standing at the top of the drive. I opened my door. “Hey, Dani.”
“Did I scare you?” Her feet snapped with the flip flops she was wearing as she came over to my car. She had on a screaming pink and slime green crocheted coverup over a black bikini that I’d bet made Gideon’s eye twitch. When the heck had Dani grown up?
“Need help?”
I handed her the lemon bars. “You can take these.”
“Sweet!” She peeked under the Pyrex cover. “Oh, yeah. My favorite.”
“I may have made them with you in mind.”
Dani snapped the top back down. “We’re in the back. Dad is playing with his new toy.”
I laughed as I reached over to the passenger seat for the pasta salad. The pang from making it with Nolan yesterday hit me and I pushed it away. “I hear we’re doing a barbecue of epic proportions.”
Ugh. My voice sounded far too chipper.
“Dad seems to think so. BMom has only threatened to put him in the smoker twice.”
I kinda loved that Dani had short speak for Macy as her bonus mom. I wasn’t jealous of that whole family. Nope. Not at all.
“Wow, it is a banner day.”
She snapped her gum and grinned. “Smells really good, at least.”
We walked around the side of the house to the backyard. Through the slats in their gate, I could see the smoker was certainly chugging away and Gideon’s mini-me, Michael, had a matching apron on as he listened to his father explain the fine art of letting meat rest.
My stomach rumbled at the pulled pork that was being carefully transferred to a platter.
“How many weeks left of school?”
