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She had a fifteen-minute head start on Brian and Sarah. So, technically, she could have stayed with Amelia and Clara for a little while longer. After all, Megan was certainly curious about Gene Carmichael’s connection to their father’s disappearance. More than curious, in fact. To know that Wendell didn’t leave them would not change anything, of course. Then again, it could change everything.
But whether her father meant to leave his daughters behind didn’t matter as much to her as it had when she was a teenager. Megan had a new life now. A full one, truly. She had a daughter of her own to care for and support. She had more jobs to apply for. And, mainly, she had a love interest. A man she’d been texting whom she’d known forever.
A man she had committed to.
And so, with that in mind, she chose to be dropped off back at the house on the harbor and freshen up. Anyway, she needed her own vehicle.
It was after four when Megan walked in. She called out to Kate, who answered from the kitchen.
“Hi.” Megan grabbed her bag from the ground and glanced briefly at her older sister. “You are... glowing?” It came out as a question, and Kate laughed.
“Glowing? Well, thank you. I haven’t heard that in a while.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks as if it were something she could feel on her skin. Megan smiled at her sister. Kate deserved this happiness. After so many years of living with their mother’s decision, she deserved it. Megan knew, deep down inside, that Kate and Matt belonged together. They always had. And now, they had a chance at it. There was no reason to tease. No questions to ask. Standing before her was a woman in love all over again. A second-chance romance sort of love.
Nothing—nothing—like she felt about Brian. Was there something tugging inside of her? Sure. Was it a warm glow?
No.
“I just popped in to grab a couple things before I drive up to the cemetery,” she declared to Kate. “We’ve changed plans a few times. We were going to go tomorrow, but Brian felt it was urgent, I guess.”
Kate nodded, her face falling.
Megan crossed to her and pulled her big sister into her for a hug. “I know,” she whispered. “It sucks.”
Pushing away, she studied Kate’s time-worn face. Crow’s feet hid behind black frames, and shallow lines spread the width of her forehead. For being under fifty, Kate looked both good and older for her age. She was stylish and pretty, but a long life played out. Perhaps that’s what happened when you stripped a child of her childhood. And Megan didn’t consider the teenage pregnancy to be the culprit there. No. Kate’s lost childhood at the hands of parents who were gritty and hard driving. Her forced breakup. Her forced adoption. Her abandonment. Even Megan’s own childhood was colored by Kate’s various heartbreaks and mandates. That’s what became of middle children. They bore the shrapnel of their older siblings’ trials. They were like children of divorced parents. Collateral damage. Of course, children recovered from that sort of thing. Maybe they grew extra wrinkles, but they recovered. They were fine.
Sometimes, they were even better off.
But none of the Hannigans were better off.
Maybe Sarah wouldn’t be, either.
***
The Birch Harbor Cemetery stood opposite the secondary school. Gunmetal gravestones and mossy markers rolled up and down slight, grassy hills. In some sections, the headstones shone above fresh flowers. In other, older sections, the footstones were not only unremarkable but also unreadable, the names having faded with time.
The Hannigans had their own sprawling plot in the far-left corner, along the back iron fence. An aged willow hung heavily above Megan’s grandparents, her Aunt Margaret and Aunt Jody, and her Uncle Garold. Other Hannigans had their plots nearby, but Megan and her sisters were generally raised apart from the extended family. Most of them were much, much older and very long dead, anyway.
Of course, her mother’s grave was there, too. Fresh dirt piled loosely atop of the burial site. The groundskeepers hadn’t yet rolled on a new layer of sod. Is that how they did it? It occurred to Megan that she wasn’t even sure. Did the deceased get grass seed or sod? It felt important right then, as she stood there, staring at the recently placed monument.
Kate asked that they expedite the settling of Nora’s resting spot. She told the mortuary she’d pay extra, but she didn’t have to. Turned out that Nora was good friends with the funeral director, who also owned and oversaw the cemetery.
It was a beautiful memorial. Simple but somehow exquisite.
Mary,
Mother of God
and Mother of mercy,
pray for us and for the faithful departed.
Nora Katherine Hannigan
The date followed, and that was it. No indication she was a daughter or sister or wife or mother. It’s how Nora wanted to be remembered. For herself, not her ties to Earth.
Megan worked hard to accept the wish that Nora preferred to be alone in death. Or at least, on her final earthly hallmark. She swallowed and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. Just as she felt an urge to sob, footsteps on the grass distracted her.
“Mom,” Sarah whispered from Brian’s side. They were holding hands. Brian had always been an affectionate father, but Megan couldn’t remember the last time Sarah wanted to so much as give him a hug. The sight sent a pang to her heart. Sarah was a crier, and Brian knew this. She was crying now, harder by the moment. He released her hand and pulled her into his side.
During the funeral, Sarah had her cousins, Ben and Will, to distract her from much of the grief. Now, stuck with just her parents, she had nothing else to do but think upon the matter.
Sarah hadn’t known Nora as well as Nora would have liked. The guilt trips were unending on this matter, and Megan was only then beginning to realize that they would last long after Nora’s last words about it. Megan did feel bad for being so distant. Their broken relationship with her mother would haunt her for years. Perhaps always. It might be unbearable. Megan knew there was no solution to this. No fixing the fact that she didn’t visit each time Nora asked for a visit. She didn’t invite Nora to visit each time the woman hinted that she had a free Saturday.
Perhaps, that was another thing crippling Megan’s ability to solidify the divorce paperwork. Perhaps, the guilt was also pushing her that much closer to her sisters.
“You okay?” Brian and Sarah now stood with Megan at Nora’s feet. In many ways, it was picture perfect. A scene from a movie. Megan had quickly changed into a light black tunic. Sarah, for once in her life, was dressed appropriately without hounding from her mother. Simple black skinny jeans and a dark navy blouse. Brian wore dark gray khakis and a black polo. It was a miniature, pared-down version of the funeral. More intimate. More real. Megan’s eyes welled up.
Brian’s did, too.
Then, a miracle happened.
No, Nora didn’t rise up from the grave. Though in life, she often wondered aloud if her death might bring about the Second Coming. She was Catholic enough to repent for the blaspheme, but human enough to joke about it on a regular basis, especially with Megan who appreciated the grim humor.
It was a miracle of a different kind. A lesser, simpler, smaller kind.
Brian, standing beside Megan, his shoulders heaving up and down as he hugged Sarah tightly with one arm, reached down and took Megan’s hand in his.
Then, he squeezed it.
Tearfully, Megan squeezed back.