“And memories of Mom,” he said, his voice thick.
“Plus the certainty that I’ll see your mother again,” Eli added.
Jonah’s head whipped up as his tool came to a halt. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“I am,” Eli said.
“She didn’t…she wasn’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t believe in religion anyway, and neither did she.”
Jonah didn’t know that Melissa had started to open her heart to the Lord. She just hadn’t gone public, and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but she had been reading the Bible the night before she died.
Surely, when that Cessna was spiraling toward Earth, she’d accepted Jesus in her heart.Surely.
But now was not the time to debate that. Not when Jonah had that look in his eyes, that grieving, aching hole in his soul that had not been evident—at least not frequently—since he’d arrived here.
Jonah carried his grief like an old, tattered jacket—worn, familiar, something he couldn’t bring himself to let go of.
His heart clenching, Eli reached out, resting a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Jonah, no one could ever replace your mother. She was the most incredible woman. She gave me you and your sister. And she will always be my soul mate.”
Jonah nodded, but his eyes were damp. “I know. I don’t mean to be childish about this. You deserve to be happy, and like I said, Kate is awesome. She was a natural at the mothering thing. I mean, I’m not sure I’d have stayed here, and I’d have never had the nerve to apply to culinary school if not for her. It’s just…”
Eli exhaled, knowing exactly what his son felt. Even after nearly fifteen years, Jonah carried it with him every day. “I know, Jonah. I miss her, too. Every single day. That will never go away.”
“Yeah.” Jonah’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “I guess it’s just hitting me hard with the anniversary coming up.”
Ah, yes, the pain of April. Melissa had died on April twenty-fifth, fifteen years ago.
He hated the day, loathed the anniversary and the memories and the reliving of the loss. Hestillcouldn’t stand to see azaleas in bloom, bursting in springtime wonder all over the south.
The last time they’d kissed it was in front of a massive pink azalea in their front yard which seemed to explode overnight.
They’d been so delighted with how it looked, and as they held each other on the front walk, his last words were telling her to be careful on that flight today. As if she could control…whatever had gone wrong.
Yes, he despised the day when it rolled around, and it was just a few weeks away.
“I know it’s hard this time of year,” Eli said, his voice steady. “It’s hard for me, too. But hey, we have each other now. That’s more than we’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah, and that’s on me, man. I was the one who stayed away.” Jonah swiped some of his near-shoulder-length hair back. “I always go back to Atlanta on that day, just so you know.”
“You do?” Years had gone by without seeing Jonah. And he’d been there? In Atlanta?
“I go to her grave. First I make sure no one’s around, which is why you never saw me. But I go every year and talk to her.”
Eli let out a soft groan, not even knowing what to do with that information. Jonah had been in Atlanta, at Melissa’s gravesite, and Eli hadn’t known it? Her death had gutted all of them, no doubt about it, but, somehow, it hit Jonah harder than everyone else.
He lifted his arm, wanting to hug his son.
“Hey, no mush on the worksite,” Jonah joked, backing away. “I need to put my hours in here to pay back your generous loan. You strong enough to bring that drywall up from the garage, old man, or do I have to do it for you?”
Eli knew a solid change of subject and a well-placed joke to derail the conversation when he heard one.
He huffed. “Please. I can carry two sheets at once.”
“Then time’s awastin’, Mr. Lawson. I’ll finish the insulation.”
But Eli couldn’t walk away from this moment that easily. Instead, he reached over and gave Jonah’s shoulder another squeeze.
“I’m proud of you, son,” he said gruffly. “Taking Carly’s pregnancy and her ultimatum so seriously, coming here, finding this new passion for cooking, working for it. Doing what you have to do to be ready to be a father. Your mother would be proud of you. And so am I.”
