Ginny steeled her courage while she waited for her new husband to open the door of their rental car.
The wedding had been the stuff of dreams. The ceremony at their church had been followed by the reception in the clubhouse at Clearwater Heights. With the two-by-fours and concrete—and all the evidence of what had happened there—covered by walls and flooring and paint, it was a beautiful space. A space redeemed for good, the way Ginny’s whole life had been redeemed.
Kade’s family—which had quickly become her own—and all their friends had celebrated the day with them. For the first time, Ginny had felt like she belonged.
She did belong in Nutfield. But did she belong in front of this house? She couldn’t believe they were doing this.
In the months after the incident, while they’d planned the wedding, while Kade had built his dream, Ginny had searched. With Brady’s help, she’d found Kathryn, Matthew, and the kids in a little town in Florida. She’d called Kathryn, but her sister wouldn’t talk to her. So she’d emailed and told her about their mother’s murder. Then she’d explained that they no longer had reason to fear. She’d directed her sister to the special agent at the FBI who was handling the case. They’d communicated via email a little since then. Ginny had kept her sister informed about her life and all she’d discovered, but Kathryn never replied.
Then, Ginny had found the rest of her family.
Kade opened the door, and Ginny stepped into the Louisiana humidity. It was evening in early May, and the sun had warmed the air to the low nineties. Cicadas and tree frogs were practicing for their evening symphony.
She’d expected to find her family near New Orleans where she’d grown up, but after Katrina they’d moved north. She and Kade had flown into Shreveport, rented a car, and driven to a little town about a half hour off the interstate. They’d passed through the charming downtown area and stopped in front of a large plot of land. Cars were parked on the street and all along the windy driveway. A single-story house sat back behind tall trees that were as plentiful here as they were back in New Hampshire. But they were different here, the cypresses and oaks and pecan trees. The scent of them as she stood beside the car brought back memories she hadn’t thought of in years. Happy memories of her childhood before Katrina, before her parents had chosen the path that had gotten them killed.
Kade took her hand. “You ready for this?”
“Not exactly the honeymoon of your dreams. We should have gone to Europe.”
He laughed. “You’re not chickening out on me, are you?”
She wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. But so much time had passed. What would this be like? And who did all these cars belong to?
Beyond the trees, the front door opened, and a heavy-set white-haired woman stepped onto the porch, propped a hand over her eyes, and peered at them.
“We’ve been spotted,” he said.
“Too late to back out now.”
He kissed her forehead, took her hand. “You’re far too brave for that, my love.”
Together, they walked up the driveway.
The old woman gripped the handrails and stepped off the porch, then walked along the gravel driveway toward them. When they were close, she held out her arms. “It really is you,” she said.
Ginny stepped into Granny’s arms. Emotion clogged her throat, but she didn’t need words. Because this was her Granny.
“Ooh-ee, child,” Granny whispered. “Ooh-ee, it’s good to have you home.”
Ginny stepped back, gazed into those familiar blue eyes framed in wrinkles. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I didn’t know.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t form any more words.
“No need for any of that,” Granny said. “You told me all about that foolishness on the phone. I’m just sorry I never found you.”
Ginny sniffed. “Did you look for us?”
“Surely we did. For years. We finally decided ol’ Katrina’d washed you away.” Granny looked past Ginny. “And this is your young man?”
“This is my husband, Kade.”
Kade stepped forward, hand outstretched. But Granny was having none of that. She wrapped Kade in a hug as if he were her own. “It’s good to know you, Kade.” When she released him, she asked, “Any chance you’re thinking of relocatin’? ’Cause this is a great place to live.”
Kade glanced at Ginny, then shook his head. “We hadn’t considered that.”
Ginny started to say something, but Granny beat her to it. “I didn’t figure. But PawPaw and I always did want to visit New England. I hear it’s right pretty in the fall.”
“Downright beautiful,” Kade said. “You’re welcome anytime.”
Granny nodded once. “We’ll be taking you up on that.”
Behind her, the door opened. Ginny expected to see PawPaw, but it was another figure stepping onto the porch.
Kathryn made her way down the three stairs. She looked just as she had when Ginny’d seen her last. Short blond hair, pretty eyes that were so much like Ginny’s. She halted a step behind Granny and offered a shy smile.
Ginny stepped around her grandmother and pulled her sister into a hug.
Kathryn hugged her back. “I got your emails. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to… Can you ever forgive me for leaving you?” She pulled away. “I should have stayed. I should have had your back like a true sister, but instead, I protected myself. I—”
“Stop,” Ginny said. “You protected your family. It all worked out. God had my back. He protected us all.”
“No thanks to me.”
Ginny hugged her again. “I forgive you.”
Kathryn broke down and wept.
She and Kathryn pulled themselves together, and Kathryn greeted Kade and offered her apology all over again.
Kade was assuring her of his forgiveness when Granny interrupted. “Stop all that sorry-ing. They said you were forgiven. Now you gotta believe ’em.”
When Kathryn promised to try, Ginny turned to the house.
Faces peered through the windows and the glass door. Beloved cousins and aunts and uncles. There were little faces Ginny had never seen before, new relatives she hadn’t known she had. There were Kathryn’s four children and her husband, Matthew. And beside him, Ginny’s grandfather, PawPaw, with a smile that reminded her of ham and black-eyed peas and cornbread and joy.
New Hampshire was her home now. But this was home, too, because these people were her family. Her past was more than just crime and deceit. It was love and laughter and faith.
That was her true legacy.
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