Page 48 of A Lot Like Lavender

“If that’s okay with you, bud?”

It’s shameful that I'm only now realizing I made this huge decision without considering whether Molly would want the same. James’ parents haven’t been involved in our lives since he died, therefore I won’t be asking their permission. Their relationship was strained before his death, and as I know all too well, grief changes people. It causes strain and unrelenting sadness even if, previously, none existed. But in this case, it did. And his parents chose a path I wish they hadn’t. One where they miss out on knowing the most incredible little girl in the world, and my daughter must add her only living grandparents to the long list of people she will never know.

Molly should have input, though.

“Where will he go?” Molly asks in a soft, sweet voice.

Closing the gap between us, I meet Molly and Jordan at the stove, crouching to her eye level. “Oh, sweetie,” I say, reaching out and taking her little hand in mine. “Daddy has been gone for a long time. He closed his eyes one night and then the first thing he saw when he opened them was Jesus. Those ashes… they’re just the remains of what was left behind.”

“Yeah.” She nods, a bit exasperated. “I know all that, Mom. What I mean is… are we just throwin’ him to the wind or like… dumping him in the field? Where’s he gonna go?”

The room bursts into laughter.

I can’t believe I get to be this girl’s mama. Despite her losses, the huge events that shaped everything about her life, my girl is thriving. She’s a firecracker, and yeah, James and Jesus had a whole lot to do with that, but I’m proud that I think I did, too.

“Oh…” I squeeze her hand, amazed at how something I thought would break my heart is proving to be almost easy. Natural, even. “Maybe we could scatter them by the river. James loved that part of the farm. We could bring a picnic and spend the afternoon there.”

It also happens to be on the piece of property Trey Ashcroft is purchasing today. He’s supposed to be signing the paperwork this morning. So, just for today, we can say goodbye to James and to the land.

Molly looks up at the man who, in such a short time, has begun to fill a gap I didn’t want to acknowledge existed. Jordan squeezes her shoulders, giving her an encouraging head nod, but again, says nothing. Whatever language these two are speaking, it’s a silent one.

Molly bites her lip and nods in response before she says, “I’ll bring the balloons.”

“Are we sure this is legal?” Dinah asks, looking up and down the length of the river like the human remains police are about to fall out of a tree and arrest us. “There have to be laws about human ashes in water sources and soil and…”

“Didn’t you girls drink human placenta last night?” Jordan asks, skipping a rock across the water. “You weren’t too worried about water sources then.”

Jack inhales an unfortunately timed sip of the beer he’s been working on, spitting half from his mouth and another spray from his nose. Jordan pats his back, then throws another rock.

“What’s a placenta?” Molly throws her own rock. It plops into the water without skipping a bit.

“Em!” Dinah shrieks. “I thought we swore to secrecy! We weren’t gonna tell anyone about that!”

“I never swore to secrecy,” I say, shrugging and looking for the perfect spot to illegally spread my husband. “Must have been after the placenta shot and your diabolical meddling where you sent me home against my will.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my meddling this morning… on the couch.”

Jordan chuckles, skipping another rock. The blush creeping up his neck is adorable, but rather than jump in to defend my honor, he picks the perfect rock out for Molly, demonstrates how she should hold it in her hand, then guides her as she sends it across the water.

When it skips twice, everyone cheers, but Molly throws her arms around Jordan and lets him twirl her in a spin before setting her bare feet back onto the ground.

I am, in a word, smitten.

And Dinah is annoyingly smug. She purses her lips and juts out her hip in a way that says,“Tell me again how inconvenient your night was.”

So I reach down, snatch up my own rock, and throw it at her feet. I have terrible aim, so no harm, no foul, but she scoffs anyway and grabs a rock of her own, as if to throw it.

“You know these are my favorite Converses!” she screeches.

“Nope.” Jack grabs her wrist and takes the rock from her hand.

She attempts a reach. A desperate little raccoon, clawing—to no avail—at a much bigger and brawnier opponent.

“Just saving you from yourself, Polly. You girls quit.” He kisses her cheek then rushes to take the rock from Lola’s hand, who’s been learning all the best moves from her mom and aunt.

Dinah stomps but, just as quickly, reaches out to holdmy hand. This—her ability to shift from grit to grace so quickly—is one of my sister’s greatest qualities. Something she inherited from our mama. I like to think I did, too.

“I’m sorry I trapped you at book club and made you talk about your feelings.”