“I’ve been in a holding pattern since you died, Henry. Our entire family has, and that’s my fault. They only stayed that way because of me. They wanted to help me not be sad, when the truth is, I’ll never not be sad about losing you.”
“This is a beautiful sunrise. It’s perfect.” I lean my head back and squint, my eyes adjusting to the growing light. It looks as though someone sliced a blood orange and used its juices to paint the sky. “I wish I could have this sunrise—this exact one—every day for the rest of my life.”
“But I can’t. I get to enjoy it while it’s here, but that’s it. That’s all I get.” I squeeze my eyes shut, the colors staining the backs of my eyelids. “I can sit here every morning and wait for that same exact sunrise to come again, with those same vibrant colors, but I’ll never be satisfied. I’ll always be disappointed because some mornings it’ll be overcast or maybe it won’t be quite as pretty. Or maybe it’ll be stunning, but in an entirely different way. As long as I’m sitting here waiting forthatsunrise, I’ll never find what I’m looking for.”
My tears leave icy trails down my cheeks. “Or I can decide right here and now to remember this sunrise for the rest of my life. To accept there will never be another one like it, but that doesn’t mean the one that comes tomorrow won’t be beautiful in its own way.”
I close my eyes, and I can almost feel my husband next to me, his hand covering mine.
“And I think that’s what I want to do, Henry. I want to chase sunrises for as long as I can. Or maybe I’ll become partial to sunsets or midnights.”
Warmth builds in my chest, as though the sun is shining directly from the center of my heart.
“I want you to know, I’ll carry you with me no matter where my story ends, because you are where it began and you’ll always be my most favorite part.”
I kiss the tips of my fingers and place them to the headstone before rising to my feet.
“I love you, Henry. I always will, but it’s time for me to go chase some more sunrises.”
33
LINDSEY
“What doyou mean Mom’sgone?” I ask, still bleary-eyed and half asleep.
Ben woke me up in a panic because our mother was nowhere to be found when he and Ellie went downstairs for coffee.
“I mean she’s not here, Linds.”
“Well, did you call her?” I stifle a yawn as I pour some creamer into my steaming mug. “She probably forgot something for the French toast casserole and went to find a drugstore that was open.”
Catrick Swayze saunters into the room and meows, as if to ask why on earth we’re all awake at this ungodly hour.
“I got her voicemail,” he says.
I reach in the pocket of my robe for my phone and try her myself. Straight to voicemail.
“There’s got to be a note somewhere,” I insist, checking the dry-erase board she keeps on the fridge. “She wouldn’t leave without telling someone.”
“There’s no note,” Ellie says.
Ben shoves a hand through his hair, his glasses askew on his face. “We already checked everywhere. We even looked in her room. She didn’t even make the bed.”
That, in and of itself, is enough to fire off a warning shot.
“What’s going on?” Lucy asks as she and Willow pad into the room, making a beeline for the coffeepot.
“Mom left this morning,” Ben says. “We got up, and she was gone.”
Willow’s eyes widen. “Gone? For how long?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Ellie says. “We only woke up about thirty minutes ago.”
“But we don’t know how long she could have been gone before that,” Ben continues. “None of us heard her leave.”
Lucy’s wide awake now. “What do we do? Should we call the cops?”
“Cops?” Aunt Rose’s voice comes from the doorway. “Why are you calling the cops? And where’s Myra Jean?”
