The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(110)

“The day Mom died,” Faith said loudly. That shut everyone up. Pru sat down; Jack froze with the muffin halfway to his mouth. “The day Mom died,” she said in a more normal tone, though her heart began to gallop sickly in her chest, “I didn’t have a seizure.” She swallowed. “I—I just said I did.”

Her siblings exchanged looks. Dad took her hand, which, Faith noted, seemed to be shaking.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

She swallowed. “Well, you know how everyone said Mom never saw what hit us? She...she did. She did try to stop. There were skid marks. But the other car was coming too fast. I told you I had a seizure because I thought the accident was my fault.”

Another silence.

“Why would you think that?” Dad asked.

Faith drew a slow breath. “Mom asked me something, and I didn’t want to answer. Um, I was a little mad at her over something. So she turned around to check on me. I always thought that’s why Kevin Hart hit us, because she was looking at me and not the road. But Levi did an accident reconstruction, and it showed that Mom couldn’t have seen him until we were almost in the intersection, and then it was too late. Even though she tried.”

There was another silence while her siblings, Mrs. J. and Dad exchanged looks.

“Honey,” Dad said, squeezing her hand. “No one ever thought it was your fault. Not ever.”

“But you thought I had a seizure, and Mom was distracted, and that’s why we got hit.”

“It was that stupid kid, Faithie,” Jack said. “A kid in a muscle car, blowing through a stop sign.”

“No one thought it was your fault, Faith,” Honor said slowly. She looked at the others. “Did you guys think that?”

Pru shook her head. “Of course not.”

“I was actually glad you had a seizure,” Dad said slowly. “Because that way you wouldn’t have remembered anything.”

Silence fell around the table.

“Do you, sweetheart?” Mrs. Johnson asked, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Faith hesitated, then nodded. “I... Yes. I do.”

“Oh, God, Faith,” Honor whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Her sister’s arms around her was such an alien feeling that for a second, Faith didn’t know what to do.

Then Pru hugged her, too, then Jack, and Dad, and Faith found that she was sobbing.

“I thought you blamed me,” Faith whispered, and Honor seemed to know the words were for her. “You were so mad at me.”

“Oh, honey,” she whispered back. “I was jealous. You were the last one who got to be with Mom. You were with her in the end.”

A little while later, when eyes had been wiped and an extra box of tissues had been brought to the table and Mrs. Johnson was making sweet potato pudding for everyone and crying a little herself (though she wouldn’t admit it), Dad reached out and put his hand on Faith’s shoulder.

“Was that why you stayed in San Francisco?” he asked. “Because you felt responsible?”

Faith took a deep breath. “Maybe a little. I mean, at first, I just wanted to get away from Jeremy. But I remembered something Mom said, about how she always wanted to live somewhere far away. And it just felt...right. Like I was doing what she never got to.”

“That’s really nice, Faith,” Honor said.

“And what now?” Dad asked. “Are you going to stay in New York?”

“You and Levi seem hot and heavy,” Pru observed. Dad and Jack winced in unison.

“I’d like to stay,” Faith said, her eyes filling again. Home had never felt more precious than it did at this moment, here in the kitchen of the New House, where Mom had cooked and laughed, where Mrs. Johnson had worked so hard to take care of them all these years.

“Oh, crap, another sister,” Jack said, sighing, but he messed up her hair.

“I do have to pack up my apartment, both at the Opera House and in San Francisco,” she said, wiping her ever-leaking eyes. “Sharon Wiles found a tenant. So I might have to live here for a little while, once I’m back from California. Please don’t make me move back with Goggy and Pops.”

“Live with me,” Pru said. “Carl’s staying at his mom’s indefinitely. I like having a long-distance marriage. The bathroom is certainly more pleasant. And you know the kids and I would love having you.”

“We’ll figure out the logistics later,” Dad said. “Faith, sweetpea, you look exhausted. Come on, I’m tucking you in.”

Her room was filled with some boxes of both her stuff and Honor’s, but her bed was the same, made up with a lavender comforter and fluffy white pillows. Faith was suddenly dead on her feet.

Dad pulled the covers up to her chin. “Nice to get to take care of my little girl,” he said. He sat on the side of her bed and smiled down at her, and Faith’s heart ached with love. He was so familiar, so unchanging—the faded flannel shirt, the smell of wood smoke and coffee, his grape-stained hands.

“Honey,” he said, “this...matchmaking stuff. Did that have to do with what you just told us?”

Faith nodded. “I guess I thought if I could find you someone, it’d wipe away some of my...guilt.”

Dad shook his head. “I haven’t been paying enough attention,” he said. He was quiet for a few minutes as he stroked her hair. “Now you listen,” he said finally, “and you listen good. I’m always going to miss your mother, even if I get married again, which frankly, I can’t picture. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for me, and if there’s ever going to be anyone else, that’s my responsibility, not yours. When the right person comes along, she will. It’ll be my job to notice. You understand?” She nodded, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.”