Page 75 of A Thousand Little Goodbyes

Scarlett’s petite, emaciated body shook in her arms, the tears flowing so hot and fast that there was no containing them. That, more than anything else, spoke to the despair that had so far remained unspoken between them. In all their years of friendship—in good times and bad, in sickness and health—Scarlett had never cried like this before. According to her, life was too short to waste on tears, and there was always something new and shiny around the corner.

She was right about that first part, but not the second. Once Scarlett turned that corner, there would be no going back again.

“It’s not fair,” Scarlett added, still clutching Chrissie as though she was the only thing keeping her standing. Chrissie continued murmuring into Scarlett’s hair—nonsense words and maternal nothings, the same kind of thing she used to say to Kat when she fell down and scraped her knees on the playground—but then Scarlett spoke again. “You’ve had to bury so many people already. We keep leaving you behind to hold the pieces together without us. And I’m so afraid that we’ll keep doing it until you finally shatter.”

For the longest moment, Chrissie didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her whole life, she’d operated under the belief that Scarlett’s love for her—though deep—was selfish. To love Scarlett Sanderson was to stand in her shadow. Something bigger and brighter always loomed on her horizon, and the best you could hope for was to be standing in the right place when she moved enough to let the sunshine through.

But she’d been wrong. Scarlett wasn’t the gatekeeper of the sunshine. Shewasthe sunshine.

“I’ll tell her anything you want,” Scarlett sobbed. She was too absorbed in her own grief to notice that Chrissie had gone perfectly still. “I’ll tell her everything. If it’s what you really want, I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”

Chapter Twenty-SixTranquility Estates, Vermont

Present Day

Chrissie stood alone at the gates to Tranquility Estates, her hand raised to shield her eyes as the rideshare she’d ordered pulled up to deposit two bewildered teenagers, one exhausted man, and a howling cat in a carrier.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Walsh was the first to speak. Since he was the one holding Rufio, who rattled inside his carrier the way Chrissie imagined a rabid raccoon might, she was pretty sure she understood why.

“Was he awful on the plane? Did he pee on everything? Are you banned from that airline forever?” She rushed forward to relieve Walsh of his burden, but by the time she reached him, he’d already set the carrier down. He’d also opened his arms and pulled her into a bear hug that knocked the breath right out of her body.

“How are you holding up?” He didn’t relax his hold on her by so much as an inch. “We’ve been worried sick about you. When we got delayed in Denver, I thought Kat was going to hijack one of the planes and start flying it herself.” He chuckled, the rumbling of his warm,solid body so thorough that she was forced to move with him. “She probably could, too. I wouldn’t put anything past that girl.”

Kat snorted. “It’s not like it’s hard. Planes are almost all automated these days anyway.”

Contrary to Chrissie’s expectations, Walsh didn’t relinquish his position right away. He lingered long enough to step back and put his hands on Chrissie’s shoulders, his face inches from hers as he examined every line of her swollen-eyed exhaustion. She could smell the mint on his breath and the tang of his aftershave, feel the warmth pulsing from his palms into her skin.

“Do you need anything? A bag of pretzels? A tiny bottle of alcohol? Hand sanitizer? We raided the airline supplies while the flight attendant’s back was turned.”

Chrissie shook her head, unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. Until this exact moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed a friend—thisfriend in particular. Walsh’s calm, easy affability was so far removed from this place that it almost felt wrong.

“Okay. But if you change your mind, I’m pretty sure Kat and Lily are hoarding a few illicit bottles in their backpacks. I’m planning on grounding Lily later, but Kat’s punishment is on you.”

Instead of laughing, as her daughter normally did whenever Walsh teased her, Kat pushed herself forward.

“If Ididsteal alcohol, I’m pretty sure it’s justified.” She swept an anxious look at the gate, with its elegantly scrolling script and high-tech security camera mounted up high, the rolling hills extending behind it. Like Chrissie, she seemed to have a difficult time reconciling the gorgeous grounds with what they signified. “Mom, Scarlett’s notreallydying, is she?”

Chrissie’s chest squeezed so tightly that she couldn’t breathe for a full twenty seconds. A few weeks ago, she’d have given anything to hear that particular note in Kat’s voice. It had been a long time since herdaughter felt safe—and vulnerable—enough to let her guard down, especially in front of someone like Lily. But although the other girl looked uncomfortable, her tall, lean body shifting from one foot to the other as she chewed nervously on the end of one of her box braids, she didn’t seem to feel any urge to rake Kat down.

“I’m afraid she is, Kitty Kat.” Even that—her use of Kat’s despised nickname—didn’t have its usual reaction.

Risking everything, or perhaps nothing at all, Chrissie reached out to pull her daughter into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’d have never dragged you across the country unless it was for real.”

Like the hug with Walsh, the tight grip of her daughter’s embrace seemed to unlock all of the tension that had been holding Chrissie together. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, that she’d be the strong, stoic mother Kat would need to get through this, but it was all too much. The familiar scent of Kat’s shampoo, the way her breath whooshed over her skin… It was like coming home after a long, painful absence.

“But I don’t understand.” Kat’s voice was muffled where it pressed into Chrissie’s neck. “Was Aunt Scarlett going to leave without telling me? Without saying goodbye?”

Thankfully, Chrissie and Scarlett had already discussed this part last night. They’d discusseda lotof things last night, and even though none of it had been pleasant, it had been necessary.

“Do you remember that time Rufio disappeared for a few days and we couldn’t find him anywhere?” Chrissie asked gently. She pulled away just enough to search her daughter’s face—that sweet, heart-shaped face that was so similar to Scarlett’s, but with the long-lashed, dark eyes that belonged to Grimshaw. Kat was so much a part of both of them that Chrissie could see it in every expression. “We were worried he’drun off to find his previous owners, but the vet said it was more likely that he was dying and wanted to do it somewhere private.”

Kat sniffled. “You spent two whole nights searching the neighborhood for him. I was worried he’d change his mind and not be able to make it back to us on his own.”

Chrissie nodded and smiled at this oversimplification of what had been, at the time, a harrowing experience. Kat had been eleven years old and so enamored of that dratted cat that Chrissie would have spent every night outside for a year if Kat had asked it of her. But Rufio had eventually dragged himself back, having decided that the life he lost was only one of nine.

“It’s a bit like that,” Chrissie said. “Scarlett didn’t want to hurt you, that’s all. She was trying to save you the heartache by making sure your last memory of her was a good one.”