Chapter 31
Levi
Pace handed me the sledgehammer. “It’s all for you,” he said, sliding his safety goggles down and gesturing to the wall.
In the two weeks since I pushed Claire away in the worst sort of way, I mourned, truly, finally deeply mourned, the loss of my mother.
Claire had been right. I needed to do it in my own time, but I also needed Claire to show me the truth about my beautiful life.
I swung the hammer and blasted a hole through the drywall of the storefront on Main Street.
I made an offer yesterday to Billy Mackenzie and would be opening by the new year.
I just had the holidays to do a ton of work. Thankfully, Pace and the town had been an incredible help .
For all my talk of having a good idea of who I was and what I wanted, it was never more clear to me that I had been hiding. The things that I thought made me strong were just a different version of fear. My stoicism was the fear.
I had Pace read the well-worn copy of the story, read dozens of times by now. Not only because I loved hearing the truth and admiring my mother’s amazing life, but because I could hear Claire in every word. It helped me feel closer to her.
Pace sniffled, and I set down the sledgehammer. “Damn, I miss that woman.”
“Me too,” I said.
He stood, and we hugged. “I was referring to Lily,” he said, releasing me to give my shoulder a final squeeze.
“I know.” I swallowed. “I was referring to both of them.”
“This is gonna be great,” Pace said, looking around to admire our work so far in transforming the former store into the Lily Carmichael Memorial Art Gallery.
“It is,” I agreed, feeling a frisson of hope.
“I’m glad you decided to take this place.”
“Me too. I would be stupid not to.” There was going to be an entire wall for Lily’s art, not for sale, just for viewing. “I was so ashamed to show my face in town. So convinced that everybody thought I should have done more. That’s why I got so mad at Claire.” I leaned on the hammer. “I never really thought she would write a story without my permission. She did more justice to my mother’s legacy than I ever had.”
I owed it to Lily to stop hiding out. I owed it to this town not to forget Lily. I owed it to myself to no longer be the loser in her story.
“Have you talked to Claire since she left?” Pace asked.
I shook my head. “I’m too chickenshit. I accused her of some awful stuff. And for a woman whose ethics are one of the main things she values about herself, I can’t imagine she’ll forgive me anytime soon.”
“Have you tried apologizing? Explained the shit about feeling ashamed for not being enough?”
“You think I should?”
Pace stared at me blankly. “Do I think you should apologize for being a huge asshole? Yes, Levi. Yes, I do.”
“Maybe I should drive down and see her. Maybe I should surprise her and?—”
Pace held up his hand. “Stop, stop. None of that. Just go to her. Talk to her. Apologize. Don’t let it go any further than that. Don’t make any demands of her. Don’t put any pressure on it. Let her take the time she needs.”
“Okay. Be chill. I can be chill.”
But first I had some things to do.
After we finished for the day, I brought the boxes from the house and set them on the table. One by one, I sorted through the photos. I set a few aside for the memorial, but I thought about what my mother would have really wanted. And as much as it was going to suck, I had to do it.
I loaded the photos into the portfolio and took a deep breath. I made my way over to Ruth’s first .
“Levi, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you,” she asked.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked.
A little while later, with a pot of coffee and a package of cookies between us, I pulled out the photo of the B&B when she opened it almost thirty years ago.
“Oh,” she gasped softly, one hand covering her mouth, the other tentatively hovering over the image of her and Jerry, her husband who had passed a few years ago. “That’s lovely. We look so young.” She laughed wetly as her eyes welled.
I ground my jaw to keep my own emotions from swelling. “I thought you might like this. I found it when cleaning out Mom’s place.”
She took a deep breath in, focus moving between the photo and me. “Thank you,” she said.
“I know she meant for these to be seen.”
“I absolutely will cherish it. Thank you, Levi. Your mother was so proud of the man you grew up to be.”
I squeezed her hand across the table.
After Ruth, I made it through several more stops, each one special and heartbreaking and hard. I cried over the memory of Lily time and time again. Watched as her photos lit up the eyes of the people she continued to provide joy for even now. It was hard and so outside of my comfort zone, but exactly what I needed. I was wrung out while simultaneously fuller than ever.
More than anything, I felt incredibly grateful to have these memories and connections, thanks to my mother .
I thought of Claire with each stop. I thought of the questions she might ask. How she would love these small moments that felt so large, these humans being cute . I thought of how the emptiness at my side almost felt tangible now. They asked about her too. The whole town wondered how she was doing and when she would be back. Time and time again, I had to explain that I wasn’t sure. If they weren’t so grateful for the photographs, I was sure I would have gotten far more snarky remarks.
In the workshop, I uncovered the sheet on the unfinished, unnamed project and stared at it for a long while. Then I got to work, lost in my art for hours.
I made it back to Big Cabin feeling that same satisfied exhaustion that came with a good workout but in my brain. With Ripley curled up in my lap for courage, I sent Claire several rapid-fire texts in her style.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I was wrong.”
“Cozy Creek misses you.”
“I miss you more.”