Eva had to get out of here.
Slowly she rose from the overstuffed gray chair situated by a large picture window.
Angela stood next to the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, fingertips splayed across her forehead, eyes slightly closed. “Kylee, for the last time, just because we’re in a small town doesn’t mean you can run off with the first people you meet.”
Eva took another step, praying Sherry or one of the other kids would walk in and save her from the awkward drama playing out in front of her.
“Mom, all I want to do is meet them for ice cream in town. It’s bad enough you took me away from all of my actual friends. Now you’re also going to keep me from making new ones? Like, really?”
“Stop overreacting. I simply said you needed to invite them here so I can get to know them first.”
Almost to the kitchen . . . Eva’s foot hit the leg of a chair, and she winced at the loud thump.
Angela and Kylee looked up at the noise. Angela’s face turned white—maybe she’d forgotten Eva was there.
What could Eva say? “I’m going to walk into town.” Yes, that would be just the break she needed. She couldn’t handle much more of this tension—they’d been here a week and already she’d been witness to one too many arguments. “You want to come with, Kylee?”
“Yes!” Kylee ran toward the stairs. “Be down in three.”
“Sorry. I guess I should have asked you first.”
“It’s fine.” Angela leaned her head against the window. “Seems I can’t do anything right these days. Sorry to argue in front of you.”
Most of the time her sister-in-law struck her as strong, unbreakable even, but then she’d show tiny chinks in the armor she put on every day to protect herself from . . . well, from what, Eva wasn’t sure.
Eva retraced her steps until she stood next to Angela. “I fought a lot with my mom as a teenager. I’m sure you did too. It’s kind of par for the course, you know?”
“My mom died when I was young. I hardly remember her. And my aunt was almost never home.”
“Oh.” Eva had known that, right? She had a vague memory of Brent telling her something to that effect. “Well, believe me. It’s normal.” She wanted to reach out to squeeze Angela’s arm, but Angela also wasn’t the overly affectionate type—toward Eva, at least.
“Thanks.” But Angela didn’t look like she believed Eva. Eva couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to love a child and have so much friction.
Couldn’t imagine it, and now she’d never experience it. If only she and Brent hadn’t decided to wait to have children. Of course, then she’d be a single mom with fatherless children. Like Angela.
Still . . . at least Angela had people to come home to every night.
“Ready, Aunt Eva?”
Eva turned to find her niece changed into a pair of shorts that showed off her strong legs and a cute ruffled top with polka dots. “Yep.”
After a quick bye to and from Angela, Eva and Kylee left the house and started down the path that would get them into town in five minutes.
Eva and her niece walked in silence for a few minutes, and Eva’s spirit leaned into the chorus of nature singing all around her.
And then there were the colors—the blues of the water, the vivid greens of the leaves, the white dotting the sky, and the brown mountains in the distance. It all made her fingertips tingle with the desire to create.
An inkling of hope, at last.
But she could sense that Kylee was not quite so calm. Her feet stomped more with every step, and her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. Poor girl. She’d experienced so much loss at such a tender age. Distraction. That’s what she needed. “You want to shop a little?”
Kylee grinned. “Yeah?” But then her lips changed direction. “I don’t have money.”
“I’ve got you covered.” Eva laughed at her niece’s squeal of delight.
Music and laughter indicated they’d reached the edge of town. As they made their way up the beach, Eva took it all in. There were several grassy areas lining the promenade, and groups of young people played Frisbee and sat on picnic blankets eating ice cream. A man fed a woman a fancy chocolate truffle. Just up the way, a street artist had strung a low tightrope between two trees and walked it while juggling several brightly colored balls. Tourists relaxed on benches lining the path. Families walked by with strollers and dogs on leashes. The smell of roasted coffee drifted from a shop on one corner of the main street lined with boutiques and cafés, restaurants, and pubs of every sort.
“New Zealand is pretty cool, huh?” Eva hip-bumped Kylee.
Kylee eyed a group of teenage boys throwing back sodas and teasing one another. She quirked a smile. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“So maybe you could give your mom a bit of a break about bringing you here?” Eva tried to say it casually as they stepped into a souvenir shop filled with sheepskin slippers, jams, Manuka honey, and mini collectible figurines from The Lord of the Rings movies.
Kylee pushed some hangers aside as she browsed a rack of New Zealand souvenir T-shirts. “I guess.”
They looked around a few more stores before landing on the stoop of a florist’s shop. Eva fully intended to walk on by, but the front window display stopped her.
Primroses. A whole arrangement of them. But they weren’t even native to this region.
Brent would have said it was a sign. Of what, Eva wasn’t sure.
But in this moment, she felt him here.
“We should get some flowers for Grandma.” Kylee turned expectant eyes toward her aunt.
Sherry had given up the next four months of her life to help Angela with the kids. Flowers weren’t much, but her mother-in-law might appreciate the small token of gratitude.
“Okay.” Eva’s hands trembled as she pushed open the door.
The familiar smell of perfumed bliss overtook her. Like artwork on a life-sized canvas, splashes of color from lilies, pansies, orchids, cyclamen, bromeliads, and more accented the gorgeous shop, which was surprisingly devoid of Christmas decor except for garland and some prominently displayed arrangements boasting red blooms.
Several customers milled about, dampening the strands of classical music feathering from the radio on the desk.
“Hello.” A thin brunette with high cheekbones looked up from a large floral arrangement near the checkout desk. “Let me know if you need any help.” The woman’s British accent lilted in the shop and—along with her slacks, blouse, and the strand of pearls around her throat—gave the fortysomething woman a very prim and proper air. She turned her attention back to her arrangement.
“Thanks.” A variety of scents rose from the flowers set in vases along the wall of the shop. The honey-and-mint smell of freesias, the addicting bitter orange of daffodils, the syrupy sweetness of hyacinths—each one was intoxicating in its own way.
“We’re looking for flowers for my grandma. My aunt is a very talented florist.”
Eva cringed at the praise and prayed the woman would ignore Kylee.
But she looked up again and floated toward them, full of natural grace. “You don’t say. It’s always lovely to meet a fellow flower artist.” The florist clapped, a huge grin lighting up her face and softening her features. “How long will you be in town?”
“Till the end of March, actually.”
“Splendid, splendid.” The shop owner tilted her head. “If you ever want to chat flowers, I’d love nothing more. I get so inspired by others’ ideas. I’m Joanne, by the way.”
“I’m Eva and this is Kylee. And that would be fun.”
Liar. Because what inspiration could she offer? She’d quit because once Brent died, all her creativity had oozed like Jell-O down a storm drain. That, and she couldn’t take being around other people whose happy endings were just beginning.
Another customer approached Joanne.
“I’ll leave you to peruse then. Give a shout if you need anything.” Joanne turned to the waiting customer and followed her across the room.
The woman gone, Eva allowed the tears she’d held at bay to finally fall as she pulled a pink rose to her nose.
“You cry a lot, Aunt Eva.” Kylee’s words were tinged with sadness.
She’d nearly forgotten her niece was there. Eva drew her nose away from the rose’s heady smell. “I’m definitely more emotional than most, I guess.” She tugged her niece into a side hug, praying that wasn’t the wrong move.
But Kylee snuggled in, resting her head against Eva’s shoulder.
It took Eva a moment to form the words in her heart. “You know, when you’ve loved deeply and lost deeply, it’s okay to feel deeply.”
Sure, some people like her parents expressed concern that she still cried so much, as though there was a time limit on grief. But how was she supposed to move on from a love so great it had formed the very person she was? Though growing up she’d always felt like a bit of a square peg in a round hole, Brent had understood her, had given her a place to belong.
And without him, how could she ever be happy again? Yeah, she may be able to snatch pieces of color and pull bits of happiness into her world now and again, but all color eventually faded.
Every rose eventually wilted.
“Sometimes I wonder if my mom really loved my dad.”
Whoa. A heavy thought for someone so young. “Why do you say that?”
Kylee took a white rose petal between her fingers, stroking her thumb and forefinger across the silky surface. “I haven’t seen her cry since Dad died. Not even at the funeral. And they fought a lot before he died.”
“Oh, hon.” A few of her tears soaked into Kylee’s hair. “Every couple fights. Even me and Uncle Brent.”
“Really?”
True, it had been rare, but then again, they’d been so alike. What did they have to fight about? “Yeah, and we all grieve differently. Your mom has had to be so strong for all of you. To be honest, I don’t know if she’s really had a chance to grieve.”
Kylee pulled away, her nose scrunched. “It’s been a year and a half.”
Eva considered her answer before continuing. “Sometimes our feelings might not be in sync with the passage of time. One day can seem like a thousand years when you’re without someone you love. Other times a day passes without notice.”
The rose petal tore off in Kylee’s fingers. Her hand stilled, and she swallowed hard. “I miss her. My mom, I mean. The mom she used to be.”
“I know, sweetie.” Eva plucked the damaged rose from its bucket, intent on adding it to the bouquet for Sherry. “When some people have so much grief inside of them, it’s hard to figure out how to release it. And it’s easy for the rest of us to only see the prickles—the thorns—that happen as a result. But don’t forget there’s a rose there too. You sometimes just have to wait for it to bloom.”