“We’ll be at the cemetery at 10. See you soon.”
A heavy anvil dropped onto his chest and he glanced at the date on his phone. Guilt rippled through him and he cursed himself for forgetting.
Today was his brother’s birthday.
Chapter 13
John
Theyellow flowers were remarkably bright against the dreary gravestone. He marveled at the bouquet Olivia had picked out for today. Jacob would’ve loved them, he thought, pushing his aviator sunglasses higher up his nose and smiling softly. Olivia made herself busy with the pile of leaves beneath the oak tree a few yards away from Jacob’s gravestone. Sunlight shone brightly over the cemetery's well-manicured, lush green lawn. The brilliant blue sky was clear for the first time in days. He inhaled the cool autumn breeze, trying his best to relax, but it was difficult to do that here.
Justine felt frazzled, her messy, curled hair pulled back into an even messier bun. She sighed, “I swear to God that child is making me gray and likes it.”
He smirked, “Olive just knows what buttons to push.”
“Because I planted them,” Justine grumbled. “She’s a mini-me.”
“Yes, she is,” he concurred, glancing between them. Olivia’s dark blue eyes crinkled in a giggle as she dove for her doll and dinosaur in the pile of leaves, curly hair swishing behind her.
“No Chad today?” he asked.
Chad was Justine’s husband, who he assumed was with their infant son. Justine had named him after their late brother, but everyone called baby Jacob "Jake."
Justine’s eyes flipped restlessly between her daughter, the gravestone, and back to John. “I love my son, but that boy has attachment issues. Won’t let me pee without screaming his head off. Chad took him to Mom and Dad's. Mom…” she paused.
John finished her sentence, “couldn’t be here today. I know.”
“It’s too hard with dad.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” he replied gently, unsure if he could hold both his dad and Jacob in his mind at the same time today.
Justine’s fingers brushed his hand, and he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He squeezed her hand in return.
Her face was a reflection of his, just a few years younger. And his face would’ve been a reflection of Jacob’s had he decided to live. The three of them had looked so similar growing up that they were dubbed the Donnelly trio, which always sounded like a garage band name to John. The only difference between them was the hair. Justine inherited their father’s curly, messy locks.
Justine had a youthful glow about her today, especially under the sparkling autumn sunlight, the sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks adding to her beauty.
He leaned down and kissed her temple, pulling her beneath his shoulder, his arm draped around her. “Is it your turn or mine?” he asked, as they both squared up before Jacob’s gravestone.
“Yours… I think. I dunno, mommy brain.”
“It’s okay. I’ll do it.”
She dropped the side of her head onto his chest. “Good. You’re better at this than me.”
“Whose judging?” he asked teasingly.
“Me.”
He chuckled. “Alright…”
He stared down at the black and white picture of their brother, Jacob Donnelly, eternally captured in marble and stone. The picture was taken when he had just turned 21, and the whole family went down to Santa Barbara to celebrate his birthday. He was in college, at the beginning of his life, with a beaming, handsome grin as he stood on the beach. He was so young, so full of spirit and light.
“Happy fiftieth, you old fart,” John drawled, causing Justine to let out a snort of laughter, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Serious,” she muttered.
“He never was.”
