new business. She stopped herself half a dozen times from driving down to Versailles to see if he was still there.
But some part of her knew she wouldn’t be welcome. Not yet. Not until she’d faced all the realities of her life head-on and started making peace with them. Not until she’d faced the truth of Woodman’s loss.
On New Year’s Eve, she stopped by Silver Springs to see her gran.
“D-doll baby,” greeted Gran as Ginger stepped into her room and kissed her cheek. “Where . . . you b-been?”
Ginger took a deep breath and sighed. “At home. Feelin’ sorry for myself.”
“You’ve had . . . a t-tough t-time . . . of it.” Ginger didn’t answer so her grandmother continued. “Are you . . . r-ready to . . . t-talk ’bout . . . W-Wood—”
“Oh, Gran,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a terrible, terrible person.”
Her grandmother winced, her eyes sad. “N-no. N-no, b-baby.”
She sniffled. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t love him the way I should have. He deserved—” She grimaced at the sharp and sudden pain near her heart, and pressed her hand against her breast. “I can’t. I can’t talk about him. Please don’t make me.”
Her grandmother’s eyes flicked to Ginger’s hands, folded in her lap. “S-still w-wearin’ . . . your ring?”
“Please,” she begged.
She refused to look down at the engagement ring Woodman had given her on New Year’s Eve last year. New Year’s Eve. Oh my God. A year ago today.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
Her heart started pounding uncomfortably so she stood up, looking around the room to distract herself.
Don’t think about it.
The little boxwood had been carefully watered because it was still bright green, and the poinsettias looked healthy too. There was a “Merry Christmas & Happy New Year” banner in silver, red, and green foil letters hanging over Gran’s double windows, and a new bookcase under them.
“Did Daddy bring you that bookcase?” she asked, grateful that her heart was slowing down to a normal rhythm.
Gran smiled as best she could. “A f-friend . . . m-made it. F-for C-Christmas.”
“What friend, Gran? What friend is bringin’ you flowers and decorations and furniture and readin’ The Christmas Box to you?”
Her grandmother’s eyes held hers for a moment. “S-someone . . . n-new.”
“New? Someone new in town? New to Apple Valley?” She shook her head. “Who, Gran? A volunteer?”
She looked back at the bookcase. “Did that someone refinish this for you?” She placed her hand on it, running her fingers over the layers of glossy finish that made it as smooth as lacquer. “It’s lovely.”
“Y-yes. It was . . . f-fixed up w-with . . . l-love.”
Ginger’s eyes shot up, and she plunked down on Gran’s bed. “Kelleyanne McHuid, you tell me once and for all: do you have a beau?”
Gran’s eyes rested tenderly on Ginger’s face, scanning it as though for remembrance. “T-tell me . . . ’bout C-Cain.” She paused, watching Ginger’s expression carefully. “Y-your d-daddy . . . told me . . . he’s home n-now.”
Ginger took a deep breath and lay back on the bed beside her gran’s petite frame. “He is.”
“And?”
“I . . .” Ginger sighed. “I don’t know, Gran. Cain . . . Cain and me are so mired in old . . . grievances and hurts and anger. I hated him for years. I hated him when he came home in October. But then . . .”
“H-hate is . . . real c-close . . . to l-love, G-Gin.”
Tears sprang into Ginger’s eyes because she’d been learning this truth, day by day, since Cain had been leaving her alone, at her request. She missed him. She missed him something awful.
She turned onto her side, resting her head on Gran’s pillow and speaking into the papery skin of her grandmother’s neck.
“But th-then . . .?” prompted Gran.
Ginger swallowed. “He’s like a paper cut, comin’ into my life and openin’ up a painful wound that doesn’t bleed, but I’m aware of it all the damned time because it’s deep. And then it heals, and when it does, I miss it. I miss the stingin’ of the cut.” She inhaled sharply. “I miss Cain.”
“B-but he’s . . .” Her grandmother paused. “Isn’t he . . . r-right d-down there . . . in V-Versailles?”
Ginger nodded.
“Then you d-don’t . . . have to m-miss . . . him, d-doll baby.”