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She seemed as committed to her myth as everyone else.
3
WEDDINGS—Lydia G. McKee and MacKenzie J. Spencer were married at the First Presbyterian Church of Pear Blossom on Saturday, 15 August, 2012. The Reverend Lawrence Michaels acted as officiant. The Bride is the daughter of Jedidiah and Andrea McKee, of Pear Blossom, OR. The Groom is the son of John and Martha Spencer, also of Pear Blossom. The bride’s officiants were her three sisters, Marianne Martin and Dahlia and Ruby McKee, all of Pear Blossom, the groom had one attendant, a best man, Chase Andrews.
LYDIA
As Lydia pulled up to her parents’ farmhouse, she felt like a rusted-out old sailing vessel. Hollow and desperately tired. And on top of that, Chase Andrews was playing the part of resolute barnacle that she couldn’t seem to scrape off.
Why couldn’t he be like everyone else?
The hordes that had rushed in to offer support right after Mac had died had taken more coordination than her doing it herself would have. The people she hadn’t spoken to since high school whowanted to be there for heranddo lunch, as if she needed to add lunch to her laundry list of necessities in the wake of her husband’s death.
They’d all vanished after a month.
Not Chase.
But then he’d always been there, hadn’t he? Since they were thirteen. A boy with skinny legs and dirt on his face, who had taught her and Mac every swear word in existence with a cocky expression he still wore half the time, even though his legs were no longer skinny.
He was still often covered in dirt.
But he was a farmer, in fairness.
Well, she’d managed to get away from him, at least. Though he was still at the farm doing chores she hadn’t asked him to do. He had his own land, after all, and she was not his responsibility. But he didn’t seem to want to hear it. No matter how many times she said it to him. He’d said that Mac wanted him there.
Mac was dead. Mac couldn’t wantanything. Not anymore.
She stared ahead for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, pushing her mind into a blank, shallow space. She didn’t need to think about Mac. She didn’t need to think about Chase, or his tendency to overstep and make her feel homicidal. Ruby was back in town. The kids were thrilled that their favorite aunt was home. She was their favorite aunt because she was the most scarce, obviously. Which made her mysterious and fascinating, and... Well, who was Lydia kidding? Ruby had that effect on everyone. Whether she was around all the time or not.
Ruby was a lot. A kind of a lot Lydia wasn’t sure she was prepared for, but...
Her kids really could use the distraction. So she was glad she was back, for that reason if for no other reason right at the moment.
Her daughter let out a shriek and burst out of the car, flinging herself toward the farmhouse, where Lydia suddenly realized Ruby was standing in the doorway.
“Aren’t you going?” she asked her son.
“I was waiting for you,” he said.
She could see Riley’s eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror, big and far too serious for an eight-year-old.
Riley was the image of his father. Except Mac had never looked like that. Never so serious or grave. Not even when he knew he was dying.
Riley felt the death of his father particularly deep. Felt the burden of becoming the man of the house, and she could talk about gender roles and how that was outdated and all kinds of things, but it wouldn’t change the weight that little boy had taken onto his shoulders. That was another thing she put at Chase’s door. Because it was the kind of thing Chase acted like mattered. This man of the house stuff. And he’d stepped in like he... Like he practically owned the place.
Lydia hadn’t asked for another man around the house. Frankly, she’d been ready to...
She’d been ready to try life without one.
“Let’s go,” she said to Riley.
They got out of the car, and she did her best to smile. She’d never been effusive, even back before. So it wasn’t like she had to perform overmuch now. It was sort of a relief. Ruby waited for her, didn’t go parading down the steps at a breakneck pace or anything like that. She just sort of stood there.
Sosubduedfor her younger sister.
Lord.
When Mac had first died, there had been a lot to do. Life involved a lot of paperwork, death even more. During that time her parents had talked about it, had helped with the practicalities.
