Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(84)

Jesse takes the seat next to me, pulling my chair out when I come to sit. Ginny sits across from me, next to Amber, looking wary. Of the food, the plates, the faces. The change from eating alone to sharing meals with me on her porch was hard enough.

I catch Meredith’s eye and nod toward the door, where Felix sits outside on his haunches, peering in.

“Oops! We forgot someone.” She pushes open the door, letting in the dog—who’s not quite so mangy or scrawny now that Ginny has taken to brushing him daily and his diet isn’t limited to dried-out chicken.

Ginny’s bobbing knee immediately quiets.

“Wine, anyone?” Meredith holds a bottle up, taking her seat at one end.

Amber shoots a stern look of disapproval. “Mom, it’s Tuesday.”

“It is,” she agrees, tipping the open end into her glass. “And tomorrow is Wednesday, and the next day is Thursday, and one day you’ll learn that none of the names really matter. What matters is that you make the most of every day while you still can.”

A solemn silence falls over the table.

“Your mother lost an eight-year-old girl last night,” Sheriff Gabe explains, watching his wife take a generous sip of her wine.

She stares hard at the glass. “I keep thinking that I could have done something differently.” Her hoarse whisper cuts through the room and settles in a painful knot at the base of my throat. It’s a pinprick next to what she must feel. What any surgeon must feel, stepping into a day with hope and ambition and a wealth of skill, only to lie down at night having witnessed that sometimes none of that matters.

“I’m sorry.” Amber reaches over to squeeze Meredith’s shoulder.

I wish I knew what to say to comfort her. Instead, I push my chair out, making a move to at least fill people’s plates.

“Sit back down,” Ginny barks, standing fast enough to make Felix scamper back. “You cooked.” Grabbing the serving spoon, she starts digging into the pot.

“Oh, thank you, but that’s too—” Amber begins, her hand up in protest as Ginny dumps enough for three people onto her plate.

“No it isn’t. You need to fatten up. So do you.” She scoops a heap onto Meredith’s plate. Mine follows. “And you.”

She sticks her hand out. “Pass your plate on over here, Jesse.”

I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard Ginny call Jesse by anything besides “that damn boy.”

We all stare at one another, wide-eyed, until Amber quickly starts a conversation about the upcoming rodeo weekend. That segues into tales about the Welles and the Fitzgerald families, and soon the room is filled with laughter. Even Ginny cracks a few smiles.

And I can’t help but beam.

When we’ve all eaten what we could, Sheriff Gabe and Jesse start collecting dishes. “How was it?” I ask Jesse. In one corner of his plate, a pile of chopped vegetables sits, having been picked through. “That’s right, you don’t eat vegetables,” I tease. But then I pause. We’ve never eaten together before, so how would I know that?

“I’ve been trying to get him to eat them for years, but it’s useless,” Meredith jokes. “Unless they’re stuffed in pizza pockets.”

“Right. Pizza pockets.” That’s it. Meredith has made comments about his poor diet in the past. I must have just assumed that included avoiding vegetables.

Meredith and Gabe sit in the gray Adirondack chairs just outside, drinks in hand, talking quietly, as the sun sets over the mountain range.

“This was a great idea, Meredith. Thank you,” I say, pulling my sweater around my body against the evening’s chill.

“Yes,” Ginny echoes, her lips puckering. She slaps her thigh, beckoning Felix to follow. “You coming, Water?”

My eyes wander to the lit garage, the black car pulled in, its hood up. Jesse’s phone rang when we were cleaning up the last of dinner and he headed back there. “In a bit.”

“Suit yourself.” Felix trails Ginny as she makes her way along the foot-worn path, evidence of the long-standing connection between these properties.

“Did you get enough of the leftovers?” Meredith asks. “We never seem to finish them.”

“That’s because they’re never that good,” Sheriff Gabe mumbles.

She smacks her husband across the arm playfully.

“I did. Thanks.” I glance over again in time to see Jesse step out, looking over at us. Is he waiting for me? Or am I just hoping for it? “I need to go ask Jesse for some help. Something for Ginny.”

“What exactly—” Sheriff Gabe begins to ask but then stops, Meredith’s hand on his wrist.

“You have a lovely night, Water.”

“You too. And I hope you get some sleep tonight.” I begin taking steps but then hesitate. As pleasant as tonight was, Meredith’s earlier words still linger in the recesses of my mind, her own silent struggle weighing on me. “For what it’s worth . . . you saved me. You may not be able to save everyone. But I’m standing here because of you.”

A tear slips from her eye. “You saved yourself, Water. With your strength and your determination. You are such a strong girl.”

With a slight nod of good night, I walk toward the only other place I want to be.