The Last One(89)

I fisted my hand against the wave of pain. “Good. Thanks for telling me.” I climbed the steps and walked down the hallway, passing Bridget’s room. She was on her stomach on the floor, drawing with the special pencil and pad Meghan had given her.

“Hi.” She waved to me, her small face serious.

“Hi.” As tired as I was, I couldn’t help stepping into her room to tousle her hair. I looked down at her paper. “Wow, Bridge. That’s really good. It’s your mama’s herb garden, isn’t it?”

She grinned. “Yup. Meghan taught me about drawing plants.” She glanced back down at the pad. “She’s gone. I’m going to miss her so much, Uncle Sammy. It was like having a big sister or something. Like another mom, maybe, but one who didn’t make me do stuff.”

I reached down to muss her hair. “I know, peanut. But it’s okay. School will be starting soon, and then you won’t miss her so much.” I turned to head for my own bedroom and was two steps down the hall when she called to me again.

“Do you miss her, too?”

I paused but didn’t look back. “Yeah, squirt. I do.”

Inside my room, the bed looked so inviting that I decided to skip the shower. I’d get one in the morning, and it wasn’t like I had to be sweet-smelling for anyone tonight. I took off my pants, leaving them on the floor where they dropped, and crawled between the sheets. Within minutes, I’d fallen into a heavy sleep.



ALI DIDN’T FUSS AT me for anything in the first week after Meghan left. I was so preoccupied that it didn’t sink in right away, but then one night I got up from dinner and left my plate on the table. She picked it up and carried it to the sink without a word. I watched her, frowning.

“I left my plate on the table.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, but there was no irritation on her face. “Yeah, you did. It’s okay, I got it.”

“Why didn’t you yell at me? You always yell when I forget to clear my place.”

She lifted her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve been letting a lot of stuff slide the last few days. What’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re letting me get away with shit. I want to know why. Am I dying or something?”

She rolled her eyes. “And how would I know that, Sam? You haven’t been to a doctor in years, and I’m no fortune teller.”

“Then what’s up?”

Ali dropped a bunch of silverware into the dishwasher and slammed the door shut. “You want to know what’s up? Okay, fine. I’m trying not to get on your back about anything, because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll lose it. I’ll go off on you, and I’ll say things I shouldn’t instead of just minding my own damn business.”

I sat back down at the table. “When has that ever stopped you?”

She threw up her hands. “I’m trying to be a different person, Sam. You know, like, growth and improvement? Don’t you get that?”

I nodded. “So what do you want to yell at me about?”

“I don’t know where to start. Well, let’s begin with the fact that you’ve missed dinner five out of the last six days. You work until it’s dark and then you come home and fall into bed. And when you are here, like tonight, thanks to the rain, you’re not actually here. You don’t talk to Bridge or me, not really. You answer like a robot. And I have it on good authority that you missed a Guild meeting this week for the first time since we lost Mom and Dad.”

I frowned. “Yeah, well, the farm’s been demanding. I was too tired last Friday to drive all the way into town for the meeting. And I didn’t want to sit there and hear them talk, either.”

“Sam, you are such an idiot.” Ali slammed her hand down on the table. “Everyone sees it but you. Or let me correct that: you see it, but you choose to pretend it’s not true.”

“What is it that I choose not to see?” I knew, but the roiling in my gut wouldn’t let me acknowledge it.

“Meghan. You miss her.”

I sighed. “Okay, yes, I miss her. But why is that such a big deal? You miss her, too. So does Bridge. Cassie told me she does, too. Any number of people in town miss Meghan. Why am I an idiot?”

“Because you’re the one in love with her, you ass.” Ali pulled out a chair and sat down across from me. “You’re burying yourself in the farm again, like you did when Mom and Dad died, just to keep from having to think about her. Is it working, Sam? Are you forgetting about Meghan?”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “No, dammit. If you have to hear it, then no. I still see her all over the farm, everywhere we’ve been. I still expect her to greet me at the sink when I get home from the fields. Want to sit on the porch with her after supper. See her painting in the yard at dawn. But she’s gone, Ali. And she’s not coming back. We knew that from the beginning, so I need to just get over her and get on with my life.”