Chapter Six
Maci
I was already dressed for the day when I walked to the front window, smoothing out my blouse. I wanted to check if the police had finally left.
But instead, I saw Camille standing under my lemon tree. She held a wicker basket at her hip and reached up to pick another bright yellow lemon from a branch.
The lemon landed softly next to four others. I frowned. Wait a second. She hadn’t knocked or waved or anything. She just helped herself.
I watched her pick another lemon, then went to the door. By the time I opened it, she was already reaching for another branch.
“Good morning.”
Camille glanced over her shoulder. For a moment, she seemed surprised, but then she covered it with the warm smile she always used.
“Maci!” she laughed. “Good morning.”
I stepped out onto my porch.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Oh, not at all.” She lifted the basket slightly. “I was just borrowing a few lemons.”
Borrowing. That was one way to describe it.
“For some reason, this tree always grows the best ones in the neighborhood.”
Always. I smiled politely and walked down the front steps.
“They do look good.”
“They’re perfect for my lemon bars.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” I said. “I’d just appreciate it if you asked first.”
For the first time since I met her, Camille’s smile faded for a moment before coming back.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She laughed softly. “I’ve been picking lemons from this tree for years.”
“I’m sure you have.” I stopped a few feet away. “But it’s my tree now.”
She went quiet and looked at me, maybe trying to figure out if I was joking. I wasn’t, so I just kept smiling.
“So next time,” I said gently, “Just knock first.”
She smiled again.
“Of course.”
Her voice stayed sweet, maybe even a bit too sweet.
“I didn’t think it would be an issue. I do this all the time.”
“It isn’t, and I understand you might have had an arrangement with the previous owners.”
I shrugged.
“I believe in asking. It would be like me walking over and picking things from your yard.”
She paused, then nodded.
“Fair enough.”
She lowered the basket to her side.
“I’ll remember that.”
I looked over at Danielle’s house. Yellow crime scene tape still stretched across the yard, and a sheriff’s cruiser sat by the curb.
“It’s awful what happened.”
“It really is.”
Her words sounded normal, but something about them felt practiced. She didn’t even look at Danielle’s front door.
Instead, she reached into the basket and quietly arranged the lemons, lining them up one by one.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about her,” I admitted. “I can’t imagine losing my husband like that.”
“No one ever imagines it,” Camille replied.
Then she smiled again.
“I should probably get home.”
I nodded.
“Of course.”
She turned toward her driveway. Halfway there, she glanced back.
“And thank you for the lemons?”
I smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
I waited until she went inside, then walked back to my porch. I looked over at Danielle’s house again.
The street felt quieter than normal. I checked my phone, but there weren’t any messages. No one had talked about checking on Danielle or bringing her food or flowers. Maybe everyone thought someone else would do it, or maybe they were just waiting.
But I didn’t want to wait. I opened the neighborhood group chat. My thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment before I started typing.
Good morning, ladies. I know we’re all still processing the heartbreaking news about Danielle. Maybe we could meet at her house around eleven and bring some breakfast, flowers, or anything else she might need. No one should have to go through this alone.
I read it over once, then pressed send.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. One heart reaction, then another. Soon, messages started coming in.
Simone: I’ll make my breakfast casserole.
Nia: I’ll grab coffee for everyone.
Jade: I have fresh flowers.
Miss Evelyn: I’ll be there.
I smiled to myself. Almost a minute went by before another notification popped up.
Camille: Such a thoughtful idea, Maci. I’ll see everyone at eleven.
I looked at her message for a moment, then locked my phone.
It was strange. She had always been the one to lead, but it didn’t seem easy for her to follow.
When I pulled into Danielle’s driveway, almost every spot along the curb was already taken. SUVs and sedans lined both sides of the street, so I had to park a few houses away.
If the sheriff's cruiser hadn't been parked in front of Danielle's house, no one would have known that a tragedy had occurred in Lemon Grove last night.
I grabbed the bouquet of white lilies from the passenger seat and headed to the front door. Voices drifted over before I even reached the porch.
Miss Evelyn saw me first.
"There she is."
She smiled warmly.
"I was wondering when you'd get here."
"I stopped by the florist," I said, holding up the bouquet. "I thought flowers might help."
"They always do."
She stepped aside to let me in. The foyer smelled like fresh coffee and casseroles. Pastries sat on the kitchen island, and another woman was adding fruit to a bowl.
The house was busy. Everyone seemed to know what to do. I looked around and saw Camille at the sink, putting muffins on a tray like she’d done it a hundred times.
"Maci."
She smiled easily.
"I'm so glad you made it."
"I'm glad everyone came."
"So am I."
We looked at each other for a moment. Then Miss Evelyn gently touched my elbow.
"Danielle's upstairs; she's barely spoken."
"I'll go check on her."
Miss Evelyn nodded.
"I think she'd like that."
I walked up the stairs slowly, my footsteps quiet on the soft carpet. Every bedroom door was open except one. I knocked softly.
"It's Maci."
There was silence. Then a tired voice came from behind the door.
"Come in."
I opened the door quietly. Danielle sat against the headboard in a big gray sweatshirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. A nearly empty box of tissues was beside her.
The television played on mute.
Every so often, the TV showed sheriff’s deputies coming and going from the house, then cut to a reporter standing outside.
She looked up at me.
"I brought you some flowers."
Her swollen eyes shifted to the bouquet, and her face softened.
"They're beautiful."
"I figured your room could use a little color."
She managed a faint smile.
"I think you're right."
I put the flowers on the dresser and moved a chair close to the bed. For a few minutes, I just sat with her in silence. There are times when people don’t need advice. They just need someone to be there when everything seems to be falling apart.
Danielle stared at her wedding ring and slowly turned it around her finger.
"I keep waiting to wake up."
I looked over at her.
"Like none of this is real?"
She nodded.
"It feels like I went to sleep yesterday," she said, her voice cracking, "And woke up in someone else's life."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel."
"You don't have to know today."
She gave a quiet laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.
"Everyone downstairs keeps telling me I'm free now."
I frowned.
"Free?"
The word seemed to bring her back. Her eyes widened a little.
"I..."
She glanced at the bedroom door and quickly shook her head.
"Forget I said that."
"Danielle." I kept my voice gentle. "Free from what?"
She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
"Marcus."
Another tear slid down her cheek.
"The fear."
She took a shaky breath.
"I don't know why I said that."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I loved him." She let out a bitter laugh, tears still streaming. "Or maybe I loved the man he used to be."
She stared at her hands in her lap.
"I spent years thinking that if I prayed more, loved him better, or just kept quiet, things would change." She shook her head. "I thought the person he used to be would return."
I felt my chest tighten.
"But somewhere along the way," she said, searching for the right words, "I started mourning him while he was still alive."
The room fell silent again. Grief isn't only for funerals. Sometimes it settles into a marriage long before anyone is ready to admit it's over.
"They all keep looking at me like..." She stopped herself.
"Like what?"
She hesitated.
"Like I survived something."
She brushed her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Maybe I did."
She looked at me again.
"I feel horrible for saying that."
"You shouldn't."
"I should be devastated."
"You are."
"I don't know if I am."
"You can be devastated," I said, gently placing my hand over hers. "And relieved that the hurting is over." Tears streamed down her face.
"I think that's what scares me."
"What does?"
"That a part of me feels guilty for finally being able to breathe."
We sat in silence. There was nothing perfect to say. No words could untangle years of fear, manipulation, hope, disappointment, and love.
After a moment, Danielle whispered, almost like she was talking to herself.
"Camille told me..."
She stopped speaking, and I waited.
"Camille told you what?"
Danielle blinked, as if she had forgotten I was there.
"Nothing."
"You don't have to protect anyone."
"I'm not."
She answered quickly and turned to look out the window.
"She just told me everything was going to be okay."
I watched her face for a moment. I sensed she was holding something back, but today didn’t feel like the right time to ask. I gave her hand one last squeeze before I stood up.
"You don't have to carry today by yourself."
Danielle looked up at me. For the first time since I arrived, she gave me a small smile.
"Thank you for coming."
"You're not alone anymore."
I was nearly at the bedroom door when she called out to me.
"Maci?"
I turned back.
"I'm glad you're my neighbor."
I smiled.
"So am I."
I closed the door quietly behind me, leaving Danielle to her thoughts. As I walked into the hallway, questions stayed with me. I took a deep breath and went downstairs.
As I went downstairs, the sound of voices got louder.
I paused at the bottom and watched for a moment.
Simone packed up leftovers for Danielle.
Nia wrote a grocery list on the back of an envelope.
Jade split fresh flowers into three vases and took them upstairs.
These women had done things like this before.
Maybe not exactly this, but they always knew how to support each other.
Camille moved through the room, checking on everyone with a gentle touch on the shoulder or a quiet word of encouragement.
Miss Evelyn came up beside me, holding two glasses of lemonade.
She offered me one.
"I figured you would enjoy this."
"Thank you."
We both sipped our lemonade. She spoke while still watching the room.
"You know what I love most about this neighborhood?"
"What?"
"We never let one of our own fall."
I nodded.
"That's a beautiful thing."
"It is."
Finally, she looked at me.
"But loyalty," she said with a gentle smile. “is a powerful thing."
I was about to ask what she meant, but she walked away. I watched her disappear into the kitchen. The word loyalty stayed with me.
A few minutes later, the women grabbed their purses. Each one hugged Danielle, then quietly left through the front door.
Soon, only Camille and I remained in the foyer. She adjusted her purse strap and looked at me.
"I'm really glad you brought everyone together today."
"It just felt like the right thing to do."
"It did."
She smiled.
"I have a feeling you're going to fit in beautifully here."
I returned the smile.
"I hope so."
Camille stepped outside, and I followed her. She walked slowly across the street. When she was halfway to her house, she stopped and looked back. Our eyes met. She waved, and I smiled and waved back.
Some games are easy to spot. Others begin with just a smile. This one had already started.