Chapter 18
HONEY
I follow Danni to the pickup, and she motions to the front passenger seat. I slide in, and she takes off, bumping down the lane then veering off into a field as I watch John and Monster, sitting next to him, become smaller and smaller.
“It’s not far,” Danni says, “but we’ll drive the pickup there so we don’t have to lug anything.”
Danni chats about the renovations going on in Heaven and some local gossip about a disbanded book club.
Emma hops out to open a gate, and Danni drives through it, then waits for Emma to close the gate and climb back into the pickup.
We bounce through a field until we get to a pavilion, plunked down in the field, surrounded by nothing but dying wildflowers and clumps of seedy grass with puffs of white.
“It doesn’t look like much because most of the wildflowers have died off, but it gets us away from the guys.
We would have taken you to our favorite beach in Heaven, but we’ll save that for next time. ”
Emma purses her lips. “Just a warning, Wren. If Danni wants to take you anywhere as a surprise, wear a bathing suit. Unless you love to skinny dip.”
Danni smirks. “You only hated me for a few minutes.” She turns to me. “Emma and I will take you to Crescent Beach but I’ll give you fair warning. I promise.” She hops out of the pickup.
“This is where Danni and Bear were engaged and married,” Emma says, pulling out a picnic basket from the back seat. She points to the ground. “Watch your step. Lacy and Ava ride through here sometimes.”
Danni runs ahead and turns the lights on, and the pavilion twinkles softly. “It looks much more dramatic at night,” she yells out to us.
Emma lays out a blanket on the plank flooring then sets the picnic basket on it.
“We didn’t bring wine, but Danni packed champagne and—” She eyes the champagne bottle.
“I guess this is nonalcoholic champagne. Huh. Gosh, I hope it tastes okay.” She pulls everything else out as she talks.
“Pineapple juice, lots of ice, champagne glasses...” She pulls out a big bowl of grapes, assorted boxes of crackers and a variety of cheeses and sets them on the blanket.
Frowning at one of the boxes of crackers, she shakes it and groans.
“Sorry. It looks like Hudson ate every single cracker in this box between the time I pulled it out of the cabinet and the time I stuck it in the picnic basket.”
I laugh. “Unless you invited a bunch more people, I think there’s more than enough to eat here.”
She tosses the box back into the picnic basket in mock disgust.
“How old is your son?”
“Eleven. He’s eating and growing like crazy right now.”
Remorse slides like a wave toward me, trying to pull me under. Trudi. The last growth spurt she had. She grew out of her shoes, and I didn’t even notice. She’d been stuffing her little toes in them because she loved them so much. Purple, sparkly slip-ons. She danced around the house in them.
Danni joins us, shaking me out of my memory. She pulls a bunch of floor cushions from a big bag she lugged from the pickup. After tossing them onto the blanket, she plops down onto one.
Emma hands us each a champagne glass. “Let’s celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask them.
“Oh, nothing in particular,” Danni says, shrugging then winking when Emma bends down to fill the champagne glasses. “Just life in general.”
Emma sits up and cocks an eyebrow at Danni. “I saw that out of the corner of my eye.”
Danni’s eyes widen. “Saw what?”
“You might as well tell me now what that wink meant. I can keep secrets better than anyone else.” She shrugs. “Then we can celebrate properly, and we can all talk to death about whatever it is the two of you are hiding.”
I can’t help but chuckle. I take a deep breath then decide to forge onward. “I’m guessing that Danni brought nonalcoholic champagne because of me.”
Emma’s gaze flicks from me to Danni then back to me. “Oh… right.” Her whole neck and face turns crimson. “I feel like a real imbecile, and I’m sorry. You… You don’t drink anymore.”
“Emma, she’s trying to tell you she’s pregnant,” Danni says.
Emma’s eyes veer to the bottle in her hand. “Of course! Of course that’s why! I just… Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, Honey.” Her eyes widen, and she covers her mouth. “I just called you Honey, didn’t I? Instead of Wren. Should I just shut my mouth right now?”
Danni puts a hand on her arm. “Emma. Take a breath.”
I laugh. “It’s okay. Really. I did drink for a while—if that’s what you were thinking about—but I don’t anymore.
So, really the nonalcoholic champagne is for two reasons.
And, you can call me Honey. It’s just the three of us here.
We all know my real name.” I smile gently at her, and she slumps into the cushions and stretches her legs out and groans.
“Actually, it’s a relief,” I tell them. “Not having to pretend I’m someone else right now. I’m not very good at it.”
Emma smiles weakly at me.
“Now…” Danni holds up her champagne glass. “Can we do this?” She waits for us to sit up and follow suit. “To motherhood. And to a beautiful new life.”
We sip from our glasses, but when Danni sets hers down, she’s silent, nibbling at a cracker. Emma fiddles with her cushion, eyeing me until she blurts out, “I’m afraid I’m going to say all kinds of stupid things. I mean, more of them.”
“Yep, you’re veering toward it, sweetie,” Danni says.
Emma swats her with her napkin. “I’m just a little starstruck. I loved Cain’s books. And I loved the book covers you designed for his last two series. They were gorgeous. I hope you don’t mind me fan-girling right now.”
“How come you don’t fan-girl over me?” Danni asks in mock disgust.
I laugh and grab a cracker, popping a small square of cheese on top.
“Thank you—I mean, about the book covers. I had nothing to do with Cain’s success except when I encouraged him not to toss out all his novels before the second draft phase when he thought they were awful.
I started playing around with designing his book covers when my daughter, Trudi, took naps.
I loved it, and it fed my creative mind.
I learned and got good enough that Cain’s publishing house didn’t hate my designs.
Cain would have made it happen either way, but I wanted my book covers to be comparable to what his publisher would choose, rather than them just giving in and okaying them. ”
“Anytime you’re hankering to design another book cover, tell me,” Danni says.
Emma fills her plate with cheese then looks at us sheepishly. “Sorry. Am I hogging the cheese?”
“Yes.” Danni swipes one off her plate.
“My pregnancy was a surprise,” I tell them. “That’s not a strong enough word. It was a shock. It was unplanned. I never thought I’d be a mother again, and this little guy or gal beat the odds despite birth control.”
“Sounds like a very determined little guy or gal already,” Danni says.
I rearrange the crackers on my plate then look at them both, hoping I’m not talking too much. “I just found out, and I haven’t been to the doctor yet. But I think it’s helpful for me to acknowledge that I’m pregnant and talk about it, even though a whole host of other feelings are popping up.”
Danni reaches over and puts a hand on mine. “Of course.” Her eyes are filled with compassion.
“I miss Trudi so, so much. I’m sure I always will. I loved being a mother.” I take a sip of my drink and stare down at the cracker in my hand. “Out of all the other things I loved, being Trudi’s mother was the best thing in my life.”
“I understand that,” Emma says softly.
“I loved being a wife too. But really, what I wanted to say”—I smile gently at both of them—“I’m finally at the point where I can talk about Cain and Trudi without falling into a puddle of grief.
Except for my sister Cat, most people skirted around my grief, and sometimes that, in itself, was harder than when they would try to say something and bungle up the words.
It made me feel like they were trying to erase that part of my life. ”
Danni nods thoughtfully. “I noticed that after my mother died. But one of the reasons I think it’s hard for people to talk about Cain and Trudi is because Trudi was so young and the thought of it is so very devastating.
I noticed that people want to make sense of a loved one’s death, and there is simply no way to make sense of it when a child dies.
There are no pithy phrases people can throw out—like it was for the best. When my mom died, people outright told me she was better off not suffering.
Of course, if they knew my mom, they would have known she wanted to live forever.
Literally. Suffering or no suffering. And Cain,”—Danni smiles wistfully— “he was so amazing. He seemed larger than life. Nobody can believe that he’s gone. ”
I nod and laugh softly. “People who didn’t know him well thought that he was larger than life, I guess.
He wasn’t, though. He was just a normal guy.
He left the toilet seat up, he threw his socks right next to the laundry bin instead of in it, and he always forgot our anniversary until the day of.
” I pluck a grape off its stem. “He wasn’t perfect, and our relationship wasn’t perfect.
But to me, it was a beautiful thing, just by virtue of sheer persistence and love, even when it was flawed or messy. ”
“My marriage was far from perfect,” Emma says. “And it wasn’t a beautiful thing, but that’s the way I feel about my relationship with my boyfriend Tank.” She turns to Danni, smiling. “Is your marriage perfect?”
“Yes. Most definitely perfect.” Danni’s grin is huge. “But I admit, I wouldn’t see the imperfections if they were stamped on my eyeballs. We are still very firmly in the honeymoon stage.”