I look up at the sky. This was Rachel’s favorite time of day. I rub my hand over my heart in an attempt to ease the pain. Missing Rachel is different from Jenny. It’s a sharper grief. The kind that steals your breath and laughs in your face as you struggle for air.
Fuck. I’m so fucked up.
It was easier when Rachel was here. I loved her. She was alive and vibrant in front of me. She was my tangible love. The kind of love you can literally hold in your hands.
And Jenny. Jenny was a love I kept tucked away in my heart. I didn’t love one more than the other. They were just different kinds of love.
I didn’t hide this from Rachel. She knew I held a love for Jenny inside me. We talked about it many times. Now that they’re both there, hiding away in my heart, it feels wrong. I’m trying not to think about one more than the other. It’s been a tough balancing act.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the amethyst I found earlier. I hold it up to the setting sun. Purple … Jenny’s favorite color.
Aspen drops her chicken and hurries over to me, plopping herself onto my lap. She wants to see the pretty crystal too.
Her little gasp when the sun catches it damn near takes me out. She claps her hands excitedly, just like her mother. “It’s so pretty,” her sweet little voice coos.
I was really hoping it was Aspen and Willow who left it at Rachel’s grave, but her reaction tells me this is the first time she’s seen it.
When I let her hold the stone in her hand, she runs her tiny fingers over it. Once she’s examined every side, she holds it back up to the light. She closes one eye and then the other, studying it carefully. Aspen absorbs the world differently than most children. Jenny was the same.
Maggie walks up to us. “What do you have there?”
Aspen jumps from my lap to show her.
“Oh, it’s an amethyst.”
Aspen shakes her head in the negative. “It’s a rock, memaw.”
Maggie laughs. “You’re right.”
My granddaughter hands it back to me before running off to catch another critter. This time she’s chasing down a baby goat.
“That girl looks just like my Jenny,” she says as I pull my aching body from the ground.
God, I’m getting old, but that’s not why I wince. I really don’t need to be reminded of how much Aspen looks like Maggie’s daughter. I see it more and more each day.
She watches me toss the amethyst in my hand.
“Where did you find that?” she asks.
I catch it in the palm of my hand before fisting it. “I found it on Rachel’s headstone.”
“My Jenny used to love all sorts of crystals.” Her eyes light up when she talks about her. “I think I have a box of them up in the attic.” She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the house. “Keep an eye on the baby. Raffe’s going to help me look for something,” she tells Jackson as we pass him.
Inside, I reluctantly pull down the attic stairs and follow up behind her. She tugs on the light hanging in the center of the room and glances around. “All of Jenny’s stuff is over here.” She guides me to the back half of the attic where everything is covered in dust.
“Does Jackson know all of this is up here?”
Maggie looks away, guilty. “He does, but I told him not to be messing with it. It will all go to him someday, but … I haven’t been ready to go through it.”
“And you are today?”
“This is a start.”
I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’ve got no room to talk. I haven’t touched a thing of Rachel’s.”
“There is no time limit on grief.” She begins looking in boxes. “Oh, here it is!”
When she hands it to me, I chuckle. It’s an old Doc Marten shoe box that saysSTAY OUTin big bold letters on the lid.
