Page 75 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She hefted my luggage into the trunk as I got into the passenger side.

Michelle pulled into the oncoming traffic and glanced at me over her shoulder. “Mom would have come, but she thought it was best to wait at home.”

“That’s okay. I understand.”

Peggy had developed rheumatoid arthritis after Steve passed away. It could have been a coincidence, but I always wondered if heartache had caused her health problems.

“So, how are …” That was when I noticed a ring on her finger. “Michelle? When did you get engaged?”

I’d known she was dating a dentist, but I didn’t know how serious they were. And if I could be honest with myself, I was a bit hurt that she hadn’t called to tell me. We didn’t talk as much as we used to, and that might have been my fault, but still, she could have let me know.

Her lips tugged at the corners, and at the sly sidelong glance, she reminded me of Steve. Steve and Michelle didn’t look like siblings, but sometimes their expressions reminded me of each other. Steve looked like their father; Michelle, their mother. The only feature they shared was the pretty green eyes.

She wiggled her fingers at me, and her two-carat diamond sparkled in the sunlight. “Garret proposed to me last weekend. I was going to call you, but then you messaged me, so I decided to surprise you instead.”

“I’m so happy for you. Do you have a date set?”

Michelle checked her mirrors and changed lanes. “Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I do. I want Tyler to be the ring bearer, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. He would love that. In fact, my sister got engaged, too, and Tyler is going to be their ring bearer.”

“Perfect. Congrats to Kate.”

During the drive through heavy traffic to Peggy’s house, Michelle and I talked about work, our parents, and Tyler. When we arrived, my mother-in-law had the door wide open, waving at us as we pulled into the driveway.

Peggy lived in a two-story house with a tidy, trimmed front yard. Rose bushes lined the walkway to the door. I slammed the car door behind me and rushed up to her.

Peggy used to care about the white showing in her hair, but she had let it grow. The wrinkles on her forehead and around the eyes had deepened. Michelle and Peggy had been through so much—first Steve and then my father-in-law’s death shortly after.

“Abby. Welcome.” Her voice cracked. “It’s so good to see you.”

While Michelle brought in my bag, Peggy gave me the tightest hug, and we shared happy and sad tears. After settling into the family room, Michelle served iced tea and sat next to me on the sofa.

I glanced around the room to see if there was anything new from the last time Tyler and I had visited. Besides the addition of a simple wooden cabinet and a couple of paintings I had gifted them hanging in her living room, all was the same.

“You haven’t aged, Abby,” Peggy said.

I placed my glass down on the table. “Thank you.”

Peggy leaned back into the sofa and rested her hands on her lap. “How’s my Tyler?”

She curled her fingers inward, rubbing the tell-tale knobs of her arthritis. Peggy’s condition had worsened. I would ask Michelle about her situation later. She might not want to talk about it, and I didn’t want to spring it on her.

“Ty is perfect.” My smile widened. “He’s doing well in school. We plan to start piano lessons in the summer, and also baseball.”

Peggy smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Only sadness showed in them. “Steve liked baseball.” Her voice was soft and weak.

Steve had played first base in high school. The Dodgers were his favorite team, and he had taken me to games at Dodger Stadium whenever we had the chance. We’d spent many summer evenings watching games at home with our friends.

Peggy and I talked and laughed, reminiscing and discussing Michelle’s wedding plans. When the sun dipped lower, we went out to dinner and came home. I’d told them I wanted to visit Steve at his gravesite tomorrow alone. They’d understood.

Instead of sleeping in the guest room, I went upstairs to Steve’s childhood bedroom. I had seen his room when we’d visited before, but the last time I’d been there, I couldn’t face the room alone.

Nothing had changed. The baseball trophies and academic achievement plaques he’d gotten in high school lined the bookcase. He had a few books on the shelves, but none looked well-worn. Steve hadn’t been a reader.

Steve had told me he wanted to play professional baseball, but he’d thought he wouldn’t make the cut, so he’d decided to major in business. He was glad he had, or he wouldn’t have met me.

I brushed a finger over his senior portrait on the desk, and tears prickled my eyes. Steve had been a good man. He hadn’t deserved cancer. He’d deserved a longer life. I tucked myself inside the blanket and called Kate to speak to my son.