But Mom wants to celebrate him, and I never refuse her. This event is meant to be a little less somber than last year’s wake, and she’s invited friends, acquaintances, anybody who knew Dad to come share the moment with us.
I accept condolences without much of a thought or acknowledgement. The owner of the local stone yard claps me on the shoulder on his way to the food in the dining room. Two nursery workers shake my hand. Amy and Jodi hug me on their rounds through the family. All while classic rock plays softly from the record player I brought down from Dad’s study.
People in the living room laugh over someone’s story. I’ve mostly tuned them out. Being here at all has my heart in a vise—listening to everyone talk about my dad just squeezes the handles tighter.
Caleb and Rowan sidle over, arms locked around each other’s waists. They haven’t let each other go all night. But if I had a buoy here to cling to, I would do the same thing.
Rowan flashes a sad smile. Since she’s my sister-in-law, I count her exempt from any pity-smile resentment.
“It’s a nice turnout,” she says.
“Mom spread the word.” I can’t keep the disapproval out of my voice. Normally, I like gatherings of any size, for any reason…but notthisreason. Some days, I want to be the only one grieving him. I don’t want to know how everybody else misses him, too. Childish, but it’s the truth.
“It comforts her to hear how much people loved your dad.”
The three of us look over at Mom on the other side of the living room, where she listens to one of dad’s friends tell an animated story. Fifty-eight is too young to be a widow. I know that’s not how life works, there are no guarantees. But it’s still wrong. We’ve all lost our own pieces of him, but sometimes I hate what she’s lost the most.
Smiling—laughing, even—she doesn’t look anything close to the way I feel. Grief tears her up, too. I never question that for a second, but sharing the burden eases the ache for her.
I’m not convinced it does the same for me.
Caleb runs a hand along Rowan’s shoulder, keeping her close, and she looks up at him with pure adoration in her eyes.
Jealousy circles around my chest like a dog searching for a place to lie down. I’ve never seen him this far gone over anyone but Rowan. I don’t need the domestic contentment he’s found in her…but part of me sure wants it sometimes. I could use an anchor right about now.
Buoy, anchor—apparently, I only have water-themed metaphors for relationships tonight.
“Griffin would rather fish his feelings away,” he says.
“As nature intended.”
He levels me a stern look, and his silent lecture runs through my head.It’s not healthy. Talking it out is normal. You bottle up too much.We’ve been through it a few times over the last year, but I haven’t made much of a dent on those counts. Keeping my grief safe in a lockbox seems best for everyone.
“You’ll be ready at five, right?” I ask.
“I still say the river’s going to be iced over.”
“Not on the section of the Olallie I want to visit.”
We planned a morning of fly fishing to honor Dad on our own. Just us and the river—no sorrowful condolences from anybody. We spent so much time fishing with him growing up, every day I’ve been out on the river since we lost him has felt like a memorial. Tomorrow, at least, it will be intentional.
“You’re both more dedicated to fishing than I could ever be,” Rowan says. “Tomorrow at five, I’ll be warm in my bed, sound asleep.”
Caleb nuzzles against her ear. “I’ll join you when I get back.”
“Smelling like fish guts? I don’t think so.” Her eyes go wide as if Caleb whispered something spicy in her ear, but then she lifts a hand to her round stomach. “That’s a big one. I don’t think he liked the smoothie I had earlier.”
Caleb covers her hand with his, and a few seconds later, he grins, too. “He obviously wants more of my barbecue.”
“Do you want to feel him kicking?” Rowan asks me.
I raise my hands and take a step back. “I’ve seenAlien. I’m good.”
She makes a face at my teasing, but getting grabby with my sister-in-law’s belly—even to feel a baby kick—just feels wrong.
“His foot isright there,” Caleb says.
“He needs more room.” Rowan rubs wide circles over her belly.
