container from her pocket. This one was for her father. This one was for him and Katie. “Should we say something?” she asked her mom.
Judith looked at the little bottle and hesitantly held out her hand. “May I?”
“Of course,” Carol said, handing Katie’s ashes to her mom.
Her hand trembled as Judith accepted the container. Looking out over the cemetery, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts before focusing on the headstone. “I told Carol how sorry you were for being too hard on her, Dennis. It’s been a difficult few weeks, but we’re doing better, and she’s working on understanding how much we have always loved her. I know you couldn’t find a way to tell her, so I told her for you. I told her that you loved her very much. And that you loved Katie very much. We’re here to bring her to you.”
Carol put her hands out to catch her mother should she start to fall as Judith kneeled down. Judith emptied the container and put flowers down before standing. She wiped her eyes and sniffled.
“Say goodbye to your father,” she said softly as she put her hand on Carol’s arm.
She waited for her mom and aunt to head back to the car before sighing. “I’m sorry I didn’t see through your tough act sooner, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to understand why you thought you needed it. Mom’s right. I am trying to understand and move beyond it. I know you loved me.” She bit her lip to hold her emotions in before she laughed at herself. Even when she was standing over his grave, the old habit of not letting him see her cry lingered. “I loved you too,” she said as she let her tears fall. “I’m sorry I hurt you when I left. I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were hurting too.” She put her hand on the stone. “I’m going to look after Mom now. I know it’s a little late to start, but I’m going to be here for her now.”
Standing upright, she scanned the cemetery to find her companions. They were standing a few rows back, and Carol knew they’d found their parents’ resting spots. Carol had never known either set of her grandparents, but from the sounds of it, she hadn’t missed out on much.
Katie had been lucky. She had four loving grandparents who had doted on her as she’d grown. It had taken a long time, but Carol was happy she’d been able to reunite her little girl with so many of the people who had loved her.
Her father’s grave was the last stop they’d intended to make in Dayton. When they got back to the RV, they’d get on the road back to Florida. Carol couldn’t believe she felt this way, but she was going to miss traveling with her mom and aunt.
She hoped, as she watched them holding hands, they would be able to take the trip the next summer they’d planned. She hoped they’d have many more vacations together. She had years of memories to make with her mother in a short time.
She was looking forward to that.
Caroline clutched the steering wheel of the family car so hard her knuckles ached. She didn’t know why she had tried so hard to convince her parents to let her get a driving permit. She was scared of everything, and driving was even worse than she’d imagined.
“Breathe,” her mother said from the passenger seat.
A rushed exhale left her as she stared at the light above her. Any second it was going to turn green and she was going to have to move the car. On the road! Why was she driving on the road? Where there were other cars. She wasn’t ready for this.
“Go, Caroline,” her mom said calmly.
Easing her foot off the brake, Caroline pressed on the accelerator and the entire car lurched forward.
“Sorry,” she said.
“You’re doing fine.”
Caroline looked in the mirror at the line of cars behind her when one honked.
“Ignore them,” her mom advised.
“Should I pull over?”
“No. You should focus on the road ahead of you. You’re too close to the curb.”
Caroline drifted closer to the center lane.
“Not that far! Not that…”
Swerving back, she held her breath. “Sorry.”
Her mom pointed ahead to a road on the right. “Turn there.”
Caroline turned on her blinker. The click-click-click sounded so loud she was tempted to turn it off, but she didn’t. She was too focused on slowing down and making the turn.
“That was good,” her