Finally, fearing the heat would prematurely wilt them, Kitty let herself into the house, still somewhat dazed. She didn't have a vase tall enough, and she hated cutting them down too much - long-stemmed red roses! - so she settled on using a wide-mouthed cut-glass pitcher that had once belonged to Aunt Cat. The roses still towered over their container, but Kitty considered it fitting.
Long-stemmed red roses for a Wilder woman weren't a perfect match either.
She carefully flattened the box the flowers had arrived in. She scooped up all twenty-four pieces of trimmed stems and deposited them in the garbage. The vase looked best on the narrow coffee table in her tiny living room. No, it was better on the kitchen counter. Uh-uh. She was right the first time; it belonged in the living room.
After stalling some more, she had nothing left to do but open the small envelope that had come with the flowers. Staring at it as if it might bite, she dried her suddenly sweaty palms on the front of her shorts. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she snatched it up.
The same slanted, masculine handwriting that spelled her name on the envelope filled the card inside.
Thank you for last night. Whenever you're ready to walk on the Wilder side, call me.
The words drove her out of the house, because all at once the walls seemed too confining. The roses were too red, their scent too tantalizing, the possibilities of what Dylan proposed too dangerous. A long walk would return her to normal.
She must have been fiddling with the flowers for hours, because the sun was going down while she strolled through the streets of Hot Water. Passing the cemetery, she wasn't surprised to spot Bram there, standing at the foot of Alicia's grave, his head bowed. Kitty paused, watching him.
It made her want to cry sometimes, and at other times it made her want to yell at him like Alicia surely would have if she could. Bram had been grieving too hard for too long. Kitty didn't doubt that he'd loved his wife, but sometimes she wondered if he mourned the loss of control over his life just as deeply. Bram had always been one to order things just so.
Losing your beloved young wife to a random kidnapping had to wreak havoc with that.
Without thinking, she headed for the ironwork gate leading into the cemetery. As she slipped inside, she wished she'd brought one of the roses, but then she spied something she thought Alicia would like even better. Carrying it in her hand, she made her way to the grave site with the simple marker that read, "She loved well/She was well loved."
Kitty stifled a shiver of sadness when she came to stand beside the man already there. "Hi, Bram," she said softly. Without waiting for a reply, she bent down.
"Hey, Alicia," she whispered. On the close-clipped grass sat a small box carved from stone. It was said to have been Bram's first gift to his wife when she was alive. Under one of its corners, Kitty tucked the bluejay feather she'd found. "I like to think of you flying, friend."
"Thank you."
Kitty looked up, startled. It was Bram who owned the living-history-district property, so technically he was her employer. They'd talked on many occasions over the years, but she was shocked he would choose to speak to her now. Here. He always seemed to disappear inside himself when he visited the cemetery.
"You're welcome," Kitty replied, standing.
"She liked birds." His voice had a raspy quality that had first appeared on the night they'd found Alicia dead. It made his voice sound like that of someone who had screamed loud and long - or of someone who hadn't allowed himself to scream at all.
From the corner of her eye Kitty caught movement in the adjacent park. More ironwork fencing separated the two pieces of land. It was only a decorative divider, really. On busy days the sounds of children and the squeak of the swings could be enjoyed by the laid-back residents of the cemetery. Likewise, a child could escape the boisterous atmosphere of the park by taking a quiet walk among the gravestones.
The figure in the park moved again. It was Dylan. Dylan watching Bram.
Kitty swallowed. "I'll see you, Bram." She paused for another moment. "You too, Alicia."
Gravel scuffed beneath her sandals as she headed along the cemetery path toward the park. A warm wind picked up, then tossed a handful