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“We’ll see, Rubes.”
“Okay, that’s good enough. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the cottage.”
“Mostly stacked books in there. You’ll need your own desk.”
“I can do that.”
“Okay, see you tonight.”
As Dahlia watched Ruby walk away, her blond hair bouncing behind her, she reflected on the earlier strangeness of walking with her younger sister. It was the kind of thing she was used to, but it hit her harder because it had been months since Ruby had been in town.
Ruby had come back all sun and smiles, and as usual, everyone responded to that. But what kept sticking for Dahlia was the way no one ever seemed... Curious about Ruby.
Oh, they liked her. Loved her, even.
But Dahlia saw her and always remembered baby Ruby. Small, vulnerable and left to die on the coldest night of the year.
No one had ever wanted to know how she’d come to be there, not to the extent Dahlia had, even as a child.
But why, Mom? Why would someone leave her? Doesn’t it mean her mom didn’t want her?
She could still remember her mom’s expression getting fierce.
No, Dahlia. She was sent to me. I’m her mom. And I want her very much.
But Dahlia had burned for the whole story. Like she always did.
And everyone around her seemed to just want a fairy tale while she was desperate toknow.
But then, that was the McKee family way. Dahlia’s grandmother had died of cancer when Dahlia was ten, and no one had even told the girls she was sick.
No point dwelling, Andie had said.You can deal with crisis when it hits, but why spend time worrying while it’s waving in the distance?
Dahlia had disagreed. Then and now.
And wanted to know. What would always amaze her was that Ruby didn’t seem to want to know the truth of her origins for herself, that Ruby had adopted that McKee mindset so very deeply.
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.
