Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Holiday
Now
A frigid wind blew past me as I stepped out of my car, lifting my hair and whipping the strands around so they slapped me in the face.
I wasn’t sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me, but it seemed unnaturally quiet, the clap of my car door shutting cracking through the still air like a gunshot.
I didn’t know why the hell I was doing this.
I didn’t want to be here, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
So when the thought popped into my head for the thousandth time only seconds after I woke up this morning, I decided that today was the day.
I was pulling the trigger on this once and for all, and hopefully, the urge and all thoughts of him would finally go away.
I lifted my face to the sky, squinting as the wind pierced my eyes and cheeks, feeling like a million tiny needles puncturing my skin.
I couldn’t shake the thought that the dull gray sky was fitting, as were the bare trees, with their gnarled, twisted limbs.
Given what I was about to do, the dreary day matched my current mood.
The dead, frost-coated grass crunched beneath my boots with each hesitant step I took.
I passed headstones of all different shapes and sizes, all of them having one thing in common—the one thing that was missing from the headstone I sought out.
Etched into each stone were proclamations of love.
How much the person buried beneath the ground was missed greatly by their family and friends.
When I finally reached my destination, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat and looked down at the basic marker, void of any frills or mentions of love.
All that had been carved into this one was a name and two numbers.
The year he was born, and the year he died.
That was it. Since the cost was per letter, we’d decided to put the very minimum. We didn’t even put specific dates.
Daniel Bradbury
1953-2025
That was what my siblings and I had agreed on as a family.
My brothers, Rhodes and Raylan, had argued that we shouldn’t even give him that.
But my oldest sister, Gypsy, the woman who had been responsible for raising all of us, couldn’t bring herself to leave him to the county to be cremated and dumped wherever they saw fit.
Even if that was all he’d deserved from us.
Her heart was too good, despite having come from two of the most heartless people on the planet. All the good in me and my siblings was solely due to her.
When she let us know what she intended to do, we’d all insisted on splitting the cost. There was no way in hell we were going to let her bury the man who was our father due to biology alone by herself.
But we put our foot down when she started talking about a funeral.
As far as any of us were concerned, he hadn’t done a single thing in his life to earn us honoring him in death.
It had been a random Tuesday, one I hadn’t even bothered to take off work, when Danny Bradbury had been laid to rest without a single person, aside from the grounds workers, to stand by and watch as the cheapest casket the funeral home had in stock was lowered into a hole in the ground.
While the headstones all around his were adorned with flowers and other keepsakes, Danny’s had nothing.
I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t think any of my brothers or sisters had been out here since we picked the spot.
This was certainly a first for me. And if I had any say in the matter, it was also the last.
I didn’t know what I expected to feel as I stared at my father’s headstone, my eyes tracing over each letter and number.
I wasn’t here out of obligation as his daughter.
I wasn’t here because I missed him. After all, how could you miss a person you didn’t know.
I was only a toddler when he and our mother, Peggy, had taken off, and even when they were there, they didn’t do much rearing.
They popped out kids then left their oldest to raise them.
Gypsy had taken responsibility for us from the moment we came into this world.
She cleaned our scrapes and held us if we woke up from a nightmare.
She packed our lunches and read us bedtime stories every night.
I never felt like I was missing anything by not having a mother around, because my oldest sister was all the mother I could possibly need. And when her husband Marco came into the picture, he slotted right into the role of father.
So, no. I didn’t miss Danny Bradbury. Not one bit.
But I couldn’t shake the sadness I felt at the thought of how he died.
I might not have liked the man—in fact, I didn’t feel much of anything for him—but he’d died alone.
No one to worry or care or hold him if he was scared. And that was just . . . sad.
I guess the feeling that had been plaguing me ever since Gypsy called a family meeting to tell us what had happened all those months ago was pity. It was pity that pulled me out here on a cold, dreary day when I would have loved nothing more than to stay inside, curled up with a book.
I inhaled deeply, pulling the cold air into my lungs until it caused them to burn before blowing it out on a cleansing exhale.
“I feel like I should talk instead of just standing here, but I don’t know what to say,” I admitted to the lifeless piece of stone. “I don’t miss you. You won’t get that from me. You won’t get that from any of us.”
I thought back to what Raylan had told us shortly after we laid our father to rest. To the memory he’d held onto for years all by himself.
How he’d run into our father out of the blue, and how his last words to him had been heartless and cruel, leaving my brother to think the worst of himself.
He knew better now. He’d shaken that darkness off, thanks to the help of his girlfriend and my best friend, Lennix Paulson.
But after hearing that, I knew without a shadow of a doubt the words I’d just spoken to Danny were true.
“I guess . . . I guess I’m just sorry you were all alone when you died. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Even you. My hope for you was that it was fast, that you felt no fear, because I wouldn’t want something like that on my worst enemy.”
The fist that felt like it had been clutching my chest for the past few months finally began to loosen as I let the words out, so I kept going, saying the last words I ever intended to say to Danny Bradbury before I moved on with my life for good.
“I hope you’ve found whatever peace you lacked in life that made you such an unhappy person. ”
With those last words, I finally felt some of the peace I’d been lacking lately fall into place. I hadn’t forgiven or forgotten, but I had gotten some form of closure with this visit, and that was enough for me.
I felt lighter as I headed back to my car, ready to put this whole morning behind me. I’d just started the engine when my cellphone chirped from where I’d kept it stashed in the cupholder while I’d been out in the cemetery.
I picked it up, my stomach plummeting to the ground as I scanned the text that had come in a few minutes earlier. The number came up as unknown, but that was only because I hadn’t saved it in my contacts. I’d refused. But I knew all too well who it was from.
Unknown Caller:
You can’t ignore me forever.
Like hell I couldn’t. An indelicate snort rattled up my throat as I tossed the phone back into the cupholder without bothering to respond.
In the back of my mind, I knew I should have blocked her number a long time ago, but there was a reason I couldn’t.
However, that didn’t mean I had to feed into her bullshit.
And that was the last thing I intended to do, at least for now.
My morning had been gloomy enough. I was determined to find the sunshine.
The bell above the door chimed, soft and beautiful. I looked over from the customer I was helping and smiled as my oldest sister stepped inside.
“Hey,” I greeted with a big smile. “Give me just a second.”
Gypsy gave me a nod and headed deeper into the store.
I finished ringing up my customer, sliding her books into a bag with my store’s logo on the front, and passed it over to her with a smile. “Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think of that thriller.”
The middle-aged woman grinned, hugging her new purchases to her chest. “Oh, I certainly will.”
I would never get tired of hearing that, or seeing the excitement in people’s faces whenever they stumbled onto a book that called to them.
I’d opened my little independent bookstore, One More Chapter, because I loved to read.
Love might not have been a strong enough word.
I’d had my nose stuffed in a book ever since I was old enough to read.
In fact, the name came from how many times I’d pled with Gypsy to just let me read one more chapter before I had to go to bed.
It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and how I could incorporate my love of books into it, but now that I’d opened my shop, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
It really was true, what people said. I loved my job and my bookstore so much, it never felt like work. The familiar smells of the books made my chest feel lighter. The rows and rows of shelves that filled the space surrounded me like a welcoming hug.
It was my happy place, and just walking through the doors was enough to wash away everything from earlier that morning.
I lucked out on the location. The building was in the heart of Hope Valley, a few blocks from the town square, with all its shops and boutiques, and less than a block from the town’s most popular coffee shop, Muffin Top.
It was prime real estate. The proximity to Muffin Top alone was worth what I paid for it.
In the early days, being so close to the coffee shop guaranteed foot traffic.
People passed by and came in simply out of curiosity, coffee and pastries in hand.
That had given One More Chapter the chance it needed to stand on its own.
I had picked out absolutely every aspect of my shop from the feminine, swirling script on the sign, the tranquil color on the walls, the plush reading chairs scattered throughout so customers could enjoy their books, to the window boxes I kept filled with brightly colored flowers spring through fall.
Every inch of it was me, through and through.
Once the customer left, I moved to the door, flipping the sign over that read: Closed for Book Club.
I found my sister near the back, in the space I used for gatherings or events, setting up for the monthly book club she’d started with her friends about a year back.
These were the women who had been a huge part of my upbringing.
My sister’s circle was so much more than friends.
They were family. They’d been there for me and my siblings for as long as I could remember, and this family that we had built—that Gypsy had created for us—was more special than the families a lot of people were born into, myself included.
There was Eden and Nona, Temperence, but we called her Tempie.
She’d been the one to wipe my tears and cast my arm when I’d broken it at six years old.
Then there was my best friend Lennix’s mother, Rory, along with Sage and Danika.
Dani was the one to open Muffin Top years ago, and it was now being run by her step-daughter and another close friend of mine, Macie.
Tessa was the director of Hope House, the group home Rory and her husband had started more than two decades ago.
And finally, rounding out the menagerie of crazies were Hayden, Charlotte, Stella, and her sister Serenity.
All of the women were married, and a lot had kids of their own, making our chosen family that much bigger.
“So, are you going to tell me how it went, or do you want me to pretend it didn’t happen?”
I let out a sigh as I placed a sleeve of plastic cups beside the bottles of wine and charcutrie that Gypsy had already laid out.
She was the only one I’d told about my visit to the cemetery before I made it.
The only one I talked to about the strange obligation I felt.
I wasn’t sure my other siblings would have understood.
Everyone had their own reaction to Danny Bradbury’s death.
“It went. There’s really not much else to say.”
Gypsy’s hand came down on mine, staying my movement and drawing my attention to her face. Her expression was one of understanding and sympathy. “Did you at least find what you needed?”
I nodded, offering her a small, sincere smile.
“I think so. There’s a sense of closure.
” At least when it came to my father, that was.
I didn’t tell her about the phone calls and texts, however.
I wouldn’t tell any of them. It was my way of protecting them after so many years of them protecting me.
Carrying the burden of her was the least I could do. It kept them clear of her.
“And that’s enough for you? If there’s anything I can do—”
I twisted my hand so it was palm to palm with hers, closing my fingers and giving her a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m good now. I promise,” I assured her, wanting to take that weight off her shoulders.
No matter how old we got, she never stopped trying to take care of us.
“You’ve done enough, Gypsy. More than.” I could tell there was more she wanted to say, to ask, but I managed to divert her attention.
“Now let’s finish this up before the rest of the crew gets here.
” A grin pulled at my lips. “You know how crazy they get if there aren’t enough snacks and booze. ”
She rolled her eyes on a snort, knowing I was right. Those women could be downright feral when they were in the mood. And they tended to be in the mood a lot. It was just one of the many reasons I loved them all so damn much.