Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (40 page)

“He also made a pretty astute observation about Spencer,” she told me thickly, clearing her throat.

“What?” I managed to whisper hoarsely.

She was blinking fast, clearing away unshed tears as she met my eye. “He said Spencer sure must love you a whole lot to do such nice things for your friends.” Her voice became suddenly steady, imploring eyes unblinking and locked on mine as she added, “I tend to agree. And whatever is going on right now, you might want to keep something in mind… Love like that doesn’t just vanish, honey. A man who makes room in his heart for the things you love, simply because you love them; he’s a keeper. Those don’t come around every day.” With that, she stood and walked to the sink, rinsing her cup and putting it in the drainer. Smiling over at me, she went to collect her son to carry him to bed, just like I used to do with Amelia.

My head was still spinning.

He did all of this for me… and look how I repaid him.

Tears rolled down my face as I made my way to my room, glancing at the closed bedroom door between me and my guests as I passed. I didn’t want them to leave in the morning. Partly because I was going to miss them terribly and partly because once they were on that plane, I would be forced to face what I had done.

I stopped mid-way down the hall and turned back toward the living room, padding over to the bureau near the front door. Crouching down, I reached inside and took out the thick, fabric-covered photo album that held Amelia’s baby photos, and took it with me to bed for the first time in more than two years.

I had a feeling tonight’s crying session was going to run long.

THE MORNING AIR
was crisp and mild, spring finally deciding to make an appearance, even if it was fleeting. The forecast called for another temperature drop in a few days, but at least it had been warm for most of Cam’s visit. For that I was thankful.

I parked my Jetta on the tiny road that looped and swirled through the cemetery, cutting the engine and glancing in the direction of the small angel statue that marked my daughter’s final resting place. I glanced over my shoulder into the sweet face of my Amelia’s best friend and smiled reassuringly. “Cam, I’m going to show you and your mom where it is and then I think I’ll go for a walk, give you time alone with Amelia. Is that okay?”

He nodded firmly, not afraid in the least. I could have taken Hailey with me and he still wouldn’t have cared. He’d been waiting for this for a long time. I watched him as I rounded the back of the car and met him on the passenger side, offering my hand. He’d been turning the small floral envelope in his hands all the way to the cemetery but now he held it firm and walked with confidence at my side. It was beautiful how brave he was. And heart-rending. He shouldn’t be this well-accustomed to dealing with life’s tragedies already.

It made me immeasurably sad.

We reached the far corner of the lawn, near the tree line and bench that I often sat on while I talked to Amelia. I pointed out her marker and he nodded toward the covered vase. “That’s where I leave the note, right?” His voice was thick and I felt the prickly sensation in my nose that meant I was about to tear up so I simply nodded and ruffled his thick hair as I walked off in the direction we’d just come from.

When I reached the car, I turned and watched for a moment. Hailey sat quietly on the bench, watching Cameron who was sitting on the ground near the headstone chattering on, talking to my little girl like they were in a sandbox instead of a graveyard.

I couldn’t bear to watch anymore, so I headed up the path to find the groundskeeper and thank him for the obviously fresh daisies in the other vase on Amelia’s headstone. Lots of flowers got donated by families who didn’t want to take them home and he always looked out for yellow flowers for her, having seen that those were all I ever brought.

I caught up with him at the rear of the main building. He was putting away a sprayer that I assumed was full of weed-killer, jumping when I cleared my throat to get his attention.

Hand to his chest, he still managed a broad smile. His eyes and mouth were heavily lined at the edges, and I was sure it was entirely due to his perpetual smile. Always chipper and cheerful, even in such a sorrow-filled place. I had to admire someone like that.

“Hello, Miss Galiano. Is everything okay?” His concerned tone only endeared him to me further.

I waved him off easily, returning his smile. “Absolutely, and call me Talia, please. I just wanted to come thank you for those exquisite daisies. They are the most beautiful ones yet.” I found myself wanting to hug him, this virtual stranger who always went out of his way for me.

I was about to lean in and do just that when he shook his head. “Sorry ma’am, I didn’t do that. There weren’t any yellow flowers donated this week. The last batch were holding on okay but I was worried they wouldn’t make it through this warm snap. Luckily, the gentleman who came the other morning took them away and left the daisies in their place.”

Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I squinted in the distance to make out the flowers from where we stood. “Gentleman? What gentleman? No one other than myself ever visits, with the occasional exception of my best friend—who happens to be female.” I frowned, trying to fathom who it could have been.

The grounds keeper—who really should have a name tag or something so I didn’t feel like an ass for not remembering his name at that very moment—shrugged timidly and pursed his lips. “I don’t know who he was. Never seen him before the other day.”

“What did he look like?” I kept my voice level, wanting to sound more curious than alarmed, though I was a little of both at that particular moment.

“Tall, messy dark hair—it might have been brown but looked black from a distance. He had a beard, which was trimmed neatly. The clothes he had on were kind of nice, slacks and a collared shirt. I remember thinking he was going to ruin his pants kneeling there on the grass like he was.”

My heart was in my throat and I thought I might choke on it as I asked, “He was kneeling at her grave?”

“Yes, ma’am. For a long time. His head was down, kind of like he was praying or talking.” The man looked up at me, kind eyes tense for a moment before he said, “Or crying. I was too far away to tell which.”

I had to be sure, had to ask the final question that I knew would leave no doubt who the mysterious visitor was. “Did you happen to see what he was driving?”

His face lit up and he nodded. “Yes, I sure did. Hard to miss a beauty like that. He was parked where you are now, direct line of sight from where I was working in the flower beds out front. That’s what made me pay him so much attention. I was contemplating going over to ask about the car. It made me nostalgic just seeing that thing drive up.” His eyes danced happily as he announced, “I used to own a Chevelle like that myself when I was a young man.”

I WALKED NUMBLY
toward the familiar marker, idly noting that Cameron was now on the bench with his mother, both of them sitting in contemplative silence.

All I could focus on as I approached was the phantom image of Spencer that the grounds keeper’s description called to mind. Had he been speaking and, if so, what could he have possibly come here to say?

I dared not ponder the possibility that he’d been weeping.

Even the thought of such a scenario was enough to make my legs turn rubbery.

I didn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what it was he sought to find here. It had been nearly ten days since I ended things. More than a week of silence from him, not that I actually expected him to call me up to chat or text me a good night like he’d done on the night’s he’d spent in Richmond. I knew better than to expect anything other than well-deserved animosity from him, if anything at all.

Clearly he was working through what I’d done to him—or what he thought I’d done—I just failed to make the connection between that and Amelia.

Cameron stood as I approached and took my hand, walking the last few steps alongside me. “I think it’s pretty here,” he told me, his expression both serene and sad. “It makes me happy that I finally got to see it. I was worried she was somewhere with tall weeds and scary sculptures like in the movies, even though I knew you would never let that happen. I wanted to see it for myself, to know she was okay.”

I pulled him into my side, my hand on his thin shoulder. “I’m glad you got to see it, too, Cam. I know how much you miss her.”

He nodded, still holding onto the little floral envelope. “I do. All the time.” He raised his head and looked up at me sheepishly. “I know you said I could put the note in the vase but I was kind of nervous. Will you open it and I’ll just drop it in?”

Poor little guy, he was scared to touch the headstone. It was a stark reminder that just because he talked like someone much older, just because he’d seen more suffering in his short life than most people did in a lifetime, when it came right down to it, he was still just a little kid.

Somehow, his perfectly childlike reaction was a comfort to me. Made me feel like there was a chance he could go back to just being a kid one day, instead of a former cancer patient. I wanted that very much for him.

We made our way across the grass and Cameron knelt down by the marker, holding the tiny envelope while I lifted the lid on the converted vase so he could place his letter inside.

His movements were slow and halting, but he leaned forward and dropped the envelope into the cup.

Directly on top of a small yellow envelope that was already inside.

What the hell?

I dipped a finger into the vase and nudged the contents until the first envelope, the one that shouldn’t be there, was on top of Cameron’s. Pale yellow and about the size of an index card, I knew as soon as I saw it where it had come from.

Spencer.

Cam frowned at me as I reached inside to pick it up. “Is that one from you?”

I shook my head and scrambled for a way to explain why I was taking a note
out
of the vase, which probably made no sense to his ten-year-old mind. “No. I think my friend might have left it here the other day but I’m not sure.” Friend was a bit of a stretch. Actually, it was basically an outright lie but the complexities of adult relationships were a topic for another day.

He pursed his lips and considered. “Are you going to read it?”

My voice was barely more than a whisper as I thumbed the sealed flap on the envelope. “I don’t know.”

He thought for a minute and said, “Maybe you should. I mean, if you’re not sure who sent it. I know my mom would read it first if she thought it was a stranger writing me a letter.”

Hailey stood from the bench and made her way over to us, oblivious of the conversation or the appearance of the odd envelope as she placed both hands on Cam’s shoulders. “You want us to give you some time alone before we leave for the airport?” She asked me, her eyes red from crying.

She’d loved Amelia, too.

I reminded myself why we were here and that I still had guests to attend to, and that had to take precedent over everything else. I couldn’t let them see me upset. They had had a wonderful visit and I refused to mar it with my personal drama.

I shook my head and tucked the yellow envelope in my back pocket, deciding it would have to wait until later, after I’d seen them off and made it back home.

Assuming I could gather the courage to open it at all.