Page 73 of To Know Miss May

Small patches of yellow lichen and green moss gathered on the edges of the marker. The grass was frayed around the edges and no flowers were in sight. The state of the stone didn’t surprise Livvy, though. Why should it look as fine and clean as the other markers in the graveyard when she only visited once a year and Father…well, never?

Mother would roll over in this very grave if she knew she had been buried on the Mount.

“I shall go mad if I spend another moment on this forsaken island with ye.”

The pain tried to rise again in Livvy’s heart, but she gently set it aside as she would a child who needed loving correcting. Now was not the time to dwell on how deeply she missed her mother, how greatly she desired for a better relationship, how desperately she wished that her mother would have been there for her more.

Instead, she would focus on the times she had been there for Livvy, even if they were few and far between.

“I brought ye flowers again, Mother,” she whispered, staring down at the grave. “I hope ye like ’em.”

She bent down, placing them before the grave and setting a small stone on the stems, lest the wind blow them away. Straightening, she drew a deep breath. “I did somethin’ foolish last night, but I think ye would’ve been proud. Ye always did want me to be more adventurous.” She released her deep breath. “I fear I ain’t so very much. But I be tryin’ to accept meself, as ye taught me to do.” Her chin quivered, but she firmly stopped the emotion. “I ’ope ye can learn to be proud o’ me, Mother. Where’er ye may be. ’Cause I be proud o’ meself and the strides I be takin’ to make meself a better person.”

She thought for a moment about what Mother would be like if given a second chance to live. Livvy liked to think that Mother would have changed. That she wouldn’t have been so caustic the second time around. That she would have shown more joy, more patience. And that she would’ve loved Father and Livvy more.

But such a thing could not occur. Mother could not have a second chance at life on this earth. But Livvy…Livvy still had that opportunity. And she would not fall to Mother’s ways, no matter how often Father said how similar Livvy was to her. She had the choice as to whom she would be.

And she would be Livvy May. Lover of the Mount. Odd one on the Mount. And she would be happy being just that.

A soft humming sounded above the noise of the rain, and Livvy started, looking around for the culprit. When she caught sight of movement on the outside of the graveyard—a gardener on his hands and knees by a patch of daffodils, the man only just visible through a small parting in the hedgerow—her heart jumped.

August.

What was he doing there? He only ever worked in the walled gardens.

Her breathing stopped, sick swelling in her stomach. Had he heard her? Seen her? Witnessed her hesitance as she entered the graveyard and her emotions that came soon after?

But then, she’d spoken so softly, she was certain he couldn’t have heard her at such a distance. Furthermore, he seemed so intent on his work that he truly seemed unaware of her presence at all.

And the greatest clue she possessed that he had no notion that she stood there? His humming. Just as he’d said, he only ever did so when he thought he was alone.

Relief rushed over her. She didn’t have the energy to explain her behavior to him in the graveyard. At least not right now.

A moment passed, but she remained where she was, taking the opportunity to watch him work as he bent over the dirt, tossing weeds over his shoulder into the wheelbarrow behind him. Rain dripped from the tip of his flat cap, though he wore no jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

His hard work must have caused him to feel warm, even in such cool temperatures.

Unlike Mother, Livvy had always admired Father’s position. She always assumed that a man who cared for flowers was a sensitive man. A considerate one.

August certainly fit the idea.

She was still in awe—though not surprised—that her night with him had surpassed any joy she felt in reading the end of her novel when she’d returned to her bed. The novel would end up being her fifth, perhaps even fourth, favorite. And yet, her time with August had been far more exciting. Far more…satisfying.

And that had surprised her more than anything.

Another moment passed, and Livvy looked away, if only not to be the strange woman lurking at him without his knowledge.

Again.

She really should be getting home. She needed to change into dry clothing and start on The Hermit’s Cell so she could return the books to Mrs. Moon.

More than anything, however, she needed to return home so she could put off asking August about his feelings.

Her gaze fell to the headstones around her before resting again on Mother’s. Before last night, before ever speaking with August, Livvy’s life had been simple, uneventful, and quite peaceful, despite her intrusive thoughts of loneliness.

Now, after speaking with him, spending time with him, she found herself looking forward to each day more than ever before. She felt renewed in every way. The time she spent with him filled her life with such wonder and joy that she couldn’t help but wonder, if she would have had the courage to speak with him before, to be herself around others unapologetically…could she have had this life for the last ten years?

She knew she had been too young for August to really notice her before, but still, she could have been friends with him, perhaps even with his sisters, if she’d but found the courage she needed to look past the rumors and the judgmental looks.