Chapter 30
JUNE
That evening, June sat on her back porch, preferring the solitude over having to wave or make conversation with neighbors walking along the street. She loved her neighbors, but there were moments when a person simply needed to be alone with their thoughts and the gathering dusk.
She felt as though she had talked enough for a year and simply craved some peace.
The Victorian house's back porch wrapped around the side, offering a view of her garden.
Roses climbed a weathered trellis, lavender spilled over the edges of raised beds, and tomato plants that would ripen to red in another few weeks.
The evening air carried the scent of it all mixed together… floral and earthy and green.
In the backyard, Pippi chased a butterfly with the kind of determined optimism that came from never having actually caught one.
The little dog leaped and twisted, her ears flying at odd angles, completely absorbed in the hunt.
The monarch butterfly, with stained glass wings, flitted just out of reach, leading Pippi on a merry chase around the birdbath and through the lavender.
Mister Smee curled up on the chair next to June's, the evening sun offering him just what he wanted. Warmth soaked into his orange fur, making him glow like a living ember. His enormous eyes were half-closed in contentment, and his purr was loud enough to compete with the meadowlark’s song from the tree overhead.
June had been reading a new historical mystery she'd picked up from the library, but now the book lay unattended in her lap.
She'd lost her place somewhere around chapter three, distracted by her own thoughts and by the simple pleasure of deeply breathing in the sweet floral air that only early summer evenings could provide.
She adjusted her glasses and looked out over the garden, watching the light change from gold to amber and to that particular shade of rose that came just before sunset.
This was her favorite time of day, when the world softened and quieted, when the urgency of daylight gave way to evening's gentler rhythms.
So many people this past week had commented on how brave she was. The word followed her through the library, through the grocery store, through Sunday's church service. "So brave," they said, touching her arm, their eyes wide with admiration and perhaps a touch of fear.
Bravery isn't searching for truth, June thought.
It's about searching for a better life, as Diane had.
Bravery was starting over at forty with a criminal record and a new name, trying to build something good from the wreckage of past mistakes.
Bravery was Helena, rebuilding her reputation after being falsely accused.
Bravery was Carl, facing the consequences of a procedural error with grace and determination to do better.
What June had done wasn't brave. It was simply necessary.
She had also suffered comments about how she must be glad it's all over.
People assumed that solving the mystery would bring closure, that everything could return to normal now that the truth was known.
But she knew better than that. Life continues, and she had a feeling that more problems to solve would be just around the corner.
Because that's what life was… an endless series of problems and solutions, joys and sorrows, mysteries and revelations.
The investigation into Raymond's death had ended, but the living went on.
Diane would face her legal troubles. Carl would rebuild trust in his practice.
The Judge buried his brother and now would try to make peace with decades of complicated family history.
The funeral had many more people come than Horace would have expected, and June knew it was because of the number of friends who wanted to support him, Petunia, and the others Raymond had bullied.
Sara Lee would continue to live, love, and thrive.
And June? June would keep reading books, walking Pippi, letting Mister Smee sleep on her bed, and continue to be grateful for every ordinary, extraordinary day.
She was content. Picking her book back up, she adjusted her glasses and smiled. The protagonist was just discovering a crucial clue hidden in an old tapestry. June settled deeper into her chair and lost herself in someone else's mystery for a while.
The sun sank lower, and lightning bugs began to blink in the gathering shadows. Somewhere down the street, a screen door slammed, and children laughed. The smell of someone grilling dinner drifted over the fence. It was the scent of summer.
This was her life. Seventy-five years of it, built in this town, in this house, among these people.
There had been sorrows, but there had been so much joy, too.
Her career at the library touched hundreds of lives through books and kindness.
Her granddaughter had grown into a remarkable woman.
The simple pleasures of a garden in bloom, a cat's purr, and a good mystery on a summer evening.
She had investigated a murder and found the truth. She had shown mercy where others might have shown only judgment. She helped a desperate woman find some measure of peace, helped her granddaughter grow, and hopefully helped a community heal.
But she had also simply lived. And living with attention, gratitude, and love was perhaps the greatest mystery of all.
June turned the page and kept reading as twilight deepened around her.
Behind her, through the open kitchen window, she could hear Sara Lee moving around inside, and knew that soon her granddaughter would come out with two cups of tea and no clues to review.
And they'd sit together in the gathering dark, simply enjoying being together.
But for now, this moment was June's alone. The book in her lap, the purring cat beside her, the joyful dog in the garden, the roses climbing toward the sky, and the endless, beautiful mystery of an ordinary life, well-lived.
She smiled and read on. There was always another chapter to explore.
Don’t miss the next Meadowlark Creek Mystery!
A Pumpkin Patch Murder