"This is my mother. Your … grandmother." The foreign words tumbled awkwardly from me.
"Wow," Ivy breathed, her eyes widening. "Is that you she's holding-the baby?"
Pressing my lips together, I nodded sadly.
My daughter's gaze darted between the picture and me, and another smile split her lips. "Oh my God, Mom, you look so much like her."
My damned eyes filled again.
"And Grandpa was super hot … " Ivy's nose suddenly wrinkled. "And I can't believe I just said my grandpa was hot."
Laughter bubbled up inside me. "He was, wasn't he?" Wrapping my arm around Ivy's waist, I laughed through my tears.
Deuce appeared on the other side of me. He ran a hand down the center of my back. "You ready to ride, darlin'?"
Instead of flying home, Deuce and I had decided to ride back to Montana on my father's '69 chopper. Preacher had loved that bike more than any other and had kept it in pristine condition all these years. And I knew nothing would make him happier than knowing I was keeping his girl on the road.
But I wasn't ready to leave just yet. To turn away from Preacher's grave, to leave this cemetery … it felt so final. I wasn't ready to let go yet. I needed another moment with him.
Who was I kidding? I needed more than a moment. I needed to see his crooked grin once more. I needed to hear his smoke-roughened voice call me "baby girl" just one last time.
"I need a few more minutes," I told Deuce. "Where's Damon?" My eyes roamed the remaining people, searching for my son.
"Last I saw he was runnin' around pickin' out graves for everyone."
While Ivy choked on her laughter, my brow shot up. "Seriously?"
Deuce shrugged. "Your son, babe."
"Our son," I snapped. "I didn't make him by myself."
Deuce's hand disappeared from my back and appeared on my ass. Lightly smacking me, he said, "I'm only takin' credit for the not-crazy ones."
He moved to Ivy and tugged on her arm. "Give your mom a few more minutes with her old man."
Ivy slid her hand into Deuce's and grinned up at him. "That means you're only taking credit for me, right Daddy? Because I'm definitely not as crazy as Danny … right, Daddy?"
"You're all fuckin' crazy," he muttered. "Every last one of you."
Smiling, I watched them for a moment before turning back to my father. My smile falling away, I found myself dropping to my knees in the dirt. Placing my hand on the tombstone, I tried to think of something to say. Anything at all. But words eluded me.
What was there to say?
I miss you?
I love you?
Both of those sentiments went without saying. I would love him and miss him until my very last breath.
"Daddy," I whispered as my eyes filled again and more tears fell. "I hope you … I hope … I wish … "
I never finished my thought. Preacher's story had ended, and no amount of hoping or wishing would change that.
"Goodbye Daddy," I finally said.
Standing, I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured him as I would always see him, as the strong, powerful man from my youth-tall and lean, his long brown hair pulled back, his warm, handsome smile, and his striking brown eyes full of pride and love.
Goodbye, baby girl …