CHAPTER 17

When I came to a stop behind the church, both the cold and the fact that Big-Mouth Berta was actually right smacked me in the face.

Truth be told—as thoughtless as she was, she wasn’t half as bad as me.

That’s when I looked down and realized I’d stopped in the church’s cemetery—by a grave I knew too well.

The wind whipped my shepherd’s robe around me with such force, I thought it might lift me up and I’d fly off at any moment.

Wouldn’t that be better for everyone?

I couldn’t look at Mama’s grave yet, so I looked to the left and saw the headstone of her grandma and grand- daddy. And next to them there was a smaller headstone, for an aunt I’d never know.

At least Mama wasn’t all by herself here.

But that wasn’t much comfort.

I shivered as I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing it was Mama’s arms that could still keep me warm.

Then, for the first time, I knelt down on Mama’s grave. My hand reached out to touch the coldness of the headstone like I was tracing the groove of each letter engraved there.

KATHERINE ANN DAVIDSON

July 1, 1910 – January 16, 1943

BELOVED DAUGHTER, WIFE, AND MOTHER

I left my hand touching Mama’s middle name, since it’s the one thing we still shared.

I held my hand there as my teeth started chattering, making my words come out in a stammer. “M-M-Mama. I-I miss you so much. I-I’m so s-s-s-sorry—for everything.”

As I wiped my eyes, something landed on my shoulders, making me jump. Turning around, I saw Ricky, putting the scarf I’d crocheted for him over me. “Shepherds need to stay warm.”

Unable to speak, I looked back at Mama’s grave.

Ricky knelt down next to me. “You okay, Pixie?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t go minding Berta. She just talks a lot, and—”

“No, she’s right. I am terrible. I shouldn’t be having fun—I don’t deserve to.”

Ricky reached his hand out to touch Mama’s headstone. “I’ll bet your mama would be the first to tell you you’re allowed to have fun even when you’re missing people so much it hurts.”

I tried to stare at Mama’s gravestone, but it grew too blurry.

Ricky continued. “I know how mad my brother would be if he found out I was doing nothing but moping around, being sad. He’d smack me from today clear into tomorrow.”

“I’m . . . sorry.” I was shivering so much it was hard to talk. “I know . . . you’re missing . . . your brother.”

“Yeah, I am. I miss him every day. And my pa too.”

I kept forgetting I wasn’t the only one whose heart hurt.

I’d started to ask Ricky about his pa when I heard Grandma’s voice. “Good grief, Prudence Ann! What in tarnation are you two doing out here in this weather without coats?”

And before I could answer, my coat was around me and I was in the car, with Grandma sitting next to me, even though she never sits in the back seat. And somewhere between the church and our lane, she wrapped her arms around me and I might have started to feel just a little bit better.