Reminders of Him(93)

Ledger walks out onto the porch and sees us talking. He comes over to us and stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He kisses the side of my head, right when Diem turns and looks at us. “Gross!”

Ledger kisses the side of my head again and says, “Get used to it, D.”

Ledger takes over pushing Diem’s swing, and I sit down in the swing next to her and watch them. Diem tips her head back and looks at Ledger. “Are you gonna marry my mom?”

I should probably have a reaction to the marriage part of that question, but my brain only focuses on the fact that she just said my mom.

“I don’t know. We still need to get to know each other better.” Ledger looks at me and smiles. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be worthy enough to marry her.”

“What does worthy mean?” she asks.

“It means good enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Diem says. “That’s why I named my turtle Ledger.” She tilts her head back again and looks at him. “I’m thirsty, will you bring me a juice?”

“Go get it yourself,” he says.

I get out of the swing. “I’ll get you a juice.”

I hear Ledger mutter to her, “You’re so rotten,” as I walk away.

Diem laughs. “I am not!”

When I go inside, I watch them from the back door for a moment. They’re adorable together. She’s adorable. I’m scared I’m about to wake up and realize none of this actually happened, but I know it’s happening. And I know I’ll eventually embrace that I deserve this. Maybe after I finally have a real conversation with the Landrys.

I walk into the kitchen to find Grace cooking. “She wants some juice,” I say as I enter.

Grace’s hands are full of chopped tomatoes, and she drops them into a salad. “It’s in the fridge.”

I grab a juice and observe Grace as she prepares dinner. I want to be more helpful and interactive with her than I was the first time Scotty brought me to this house. “How can I help?”

Grace smiles at me. “You don’t have to. Go spend time with your daughter.”

I start to walk out of the kitchen, but my steps feel so heavy. I have so much I want to say to Grace that I didn’t have the chance to say to her earlier today at my apartment. I turn around, and I’m sorry is on the tip of my tongue, but I feel like if I open my mouth, I’ll cry.

My eyes meet Grace’s, and she can see the agony in my expression.

“Grace . . .” My voice is a whisper.

She immediately walks over to me and pulls me in for a hug.

It’s an amazing hug. A forgiving hug. “Hey,” she says, soothingly. “Hey, listen to me.” She pulls back, and we’re about the same height, so we’re eye to eye when she takes the juice from me and sets it aside. Then she squeezes both of my hands reassuringly. “We go forward,” she says. “That’s it. It’s that simple. I forgive you and you forgive me, and we go forward together and give that little girl the best life we can give her. Okay?”

I nod, because I can do that. I forgive them. I’ve always forgiven them.

It’s myself I’ve been hard on. But I think I’ve reached the point that forgiving myself finally feels okay.

So I do.

You’re forgiven, Kenna.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


LEDGER

She fits. It’s surreal and, to be honest, a little overwhelming. We just finished eating dinner, but we’re all still sitting at the table. Diem is curled up in my lap, and I’m sitting next to Kenna.

She seemed nervous when we first sat down to dinner, but she’s eased up a lot. Especially after Patrick started telling stories, giving Kenna a highlight reel of Diem’s life. He’s telling her the story of when Diem broke her arm six months ago.

“She spent the first two weeks thinking she had to wear the cast forever. None of us thought to tell her that breaks heal, and Diem assumed when a person broke a bone, it stayed broken for good.”

“Oh, no,” Kenna says, laughing. She looks down at Diem and runs a soothing hand over her head. “You poor thing.”

Diem reaches a hand toward Kenna, and she accepts it. Diem effortlessly slips off my lap and onto Kenna’s. It happens so fast and quietly. Diem tucks herself into Kenna, and Kenna wraps her arms around Diem like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

We’re all staring at them, but Kenna doesn’t notice because her cheek is pressed against the top of Diem’s head. I swear I’m about to lose it right here at the table. I clear my throat and push my chair back.

I don’t even excuse myself because I feel like my voice will crack if I try to speak, so I silently leave the table and walk out back.

I want to give the four of them privacy. I’ve been somewhat of a buffer for all of them today, but I want them to interact without me there. I want Kenna to feel comfortable with them and not have to lean on me for that comfort, because it’s important she have a relationship with them outside of me.

I could tell Patrick and Grace were pleasantly surprised at how different she is from what we all expected her to be.

It proves that time, distance, and devastation allow people enough opportunity to craft villains out of people they don’t even know. But Kenna was never a villain. She was a victim. We all were.