Chapter 12

Charleston, 2004

The black dress was hanging in the closet. Mallory had made sure her mom’s dress was also ready. The family would sit in the chairs on the front row under the green tent at the cemetery. It was placed in the section reserved for military veterans and their spouses. The funeral director had confirmed it would be a full military burial. Small reward for thirty-two years of service, five gold hash marks on his dress blues and the love and loyalty of his men. He’d get a full gun salute by the younger sailors; one only his family would be able to appreciate. Still, that’s probably how he’d have wanted it.

Mallory had argued with herself over wearing her own uniform or the black dress. She decided that in this instance she was his daughter and one of the sisters. The black dress won. She walked to the kitchen with Sparky, made a cup of coffee and headed to the back porch. Sparky trotted off to sniff and relieve himself. Mallory sat on the porch swing and looked at the newly planted garden. Hard to believe that just one week ago she’d sat here with him and prepared the fertile plot. The young tomato plants looked secure and hopeful for their chance to bear fruit in her father’s last garden. With no one watching, Mallory’s tears streamed as she watched the purple martins twitter over the garden, popping in and out of their gourd houses.

Her heart was breaking but he’d taught them how to endure whenever he was away. Instead of him returning home, she’d ultimately be joining him. Only the wealth of memories that she was sifting through with her sisters could push a smile past the wall of tears.

Breakfast was over and Rebecca placed the kids in front of the television. She jumped into the shower, leaned against the wall and let the water baptize her grief. How had life gotten so complicated? Growing up as the baby of the girls, her mom had always shielded her from the conflicts. When a sister annoyed her, all she had to say was “I’m telling Mom!”

After all, Elizabeth was used to being blamed. Audrey knew she was the favorite, and Mallory was always in trouble. But as the youngest, the only father she’d known was gone. She’d barely known her birth father; her parents had split up when she was still losing baby teeth. She’d remembered sitting in her stepdad’s lap as he tied a string to a loose tooth, convincing her to let him yank it.

She came out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror. Even the steamed glass couldn’t hide her protruding hipbones. No longer the protected baby since marrying John, she knew she’d put herself on the bottom of the relationship chain. Kids, business burdens, household worries…zero support from her partner. Rather, all John ever offered her were a lot of excuses for the blunders that she was constantly cleaning up.

“Bec…How long are you going to be in there?” her husband said, banging on the door.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Almost done. Give me a little more time, hon.” She often regretted that she’d allowed him to move her so far from the rest of her family. Her children hadn’t had the time with Daddy that Elizabeth and Audrey had given their own daughters. But it did keep the family’s watchful eyes off of her and the dysfunctional relationship she kept feeding. No, she wasn’t feeding it; it was starving her.

“Sure, I’m surviving,” Rebecca muttered, combing out her damp locks and ignoring the incessant knocking on the door.

The jet lag had worn off. Audrey and Leigh were leaving the ghost in the room alone. They had barely survived the first year of firsts themselves. Audrey had married her high school sweetheart, Jeff. Up until a few years ago, they’d built a perfect life and family in Charleston. The shipyard was closing and he’d taken a job in Groton, Connecticut. He’d blessed her with the ability to be a stay at home mom but even their perfect little family couldn’t fill the loneliness of being away from her sisters. Jeff never complained about the long distance phone bills or plane fares to celebrate Hallmark holidays.

She thought about the night before with most of her sisters. Mallory had followed in their fathers’ footsteps, joining the military. She’d never married, but she’d never missed remembering a birthday or holiday for her nieces or parents. She seemed content with her pets. Always the epitome of honor and service, but slightly detached, Elizabeth was hiding behind the funeral details. Audrey hadn’t seen her shed a tear yet. Not that she doubted that Elizabeth was hurting. Rebecca was quickly revealing her wishbone instead of a backbone. But none of them truly knew the hole that her husband’s absence had placed in Audrey’s heart. She knew how her mom felt more than any of them.

She continued to curl her ash blonde hair. She was wearing the same black dress from her husband’s funeral. She smiled thinking about the conversations they were having in the great beyond. Nascar, pig roasts and frying turkeys in the backyard every year until they’d moved. The recipe collaborations were shared in private. Whenever she or her sisters asked, her dad whistled and pretended not to hear their questions.

“Leigh, we need to head out in fifteen minutes,” Audrey called out. In her mind, she felt her husband’s arms surrounding her as she went to celebrate but grieve for the loss of the other man in their bereft lives.