The Sinner - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,68

felt an insane amount of pride. I was overwhelmed with it, actually. Humbled by it. “It’s so…”

“Totally perfect!” Katie cried, spinning around in a circle, taking in what, I had to admit, was a totally perfect courtyard.

The flowers were planted, small hills and valleys of pinks and greens. Roses and hostas. Forget-me-nots, bougainvillaea and birds of paradise. Wisteria, lilac, honeysuckle. It was fragrant to the extreme, and I would never smell another flower without thinking of these women.

The cypress was trimmed and magnificent, the cobblestones replaced by a stunning carpet of green. The wall, barely visible in the back, was strong and would stay that way for a hundred years. The new greenhouse, a kit I’d ordered and modified, gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.

This was my gift, my offering, my heart, beating and red with blood—for Savannah.

Savannah, who was silent. She stood to the side, her arms across her chest. She looked so thin, so small. Lost in the icy distance between her and everyone else.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“It’s so beautiful, Matt,” Savannah whispered. “It’s…” She smiled slightly and my heart chugged. “I’m speechless.”

“What about the fountain?” Katie asked, pointing to the burlap-covered structure in the seedling maze.

“Let’s check it out.” I led the way, my troop of women fanning out behind me. When they were all standing around the fountain I’d had a friend ship to me—a piece I’d admired for a long time but had no place for—I untied the twine and pulled off the burlap.

Three delicate copper-and-steel women danced in a circle, long hair streaming, arms raised in jubilation, their mouths open wide as if singing or laughing. Red and pink enamel flowers laced their hair and filled their hands. Blue birds and yellow butterflies darted amongst them.

When I turned on the valve, the fountain spun and the women danced in a light rain.

“Is that us?” Katie asked.

“Those are my wild and unpredictable O’Neill women.” I palmed Katie’s head, giving it a shake.

In the silence the fountain spun and my heart pounded.

“I remember when you were born, Savannah, honey,” Margot said, her voice choked with tears, her gaze on Savannah like a spotlight. “Carter and Tyler were born up north, but Vanessa came home when she was pregnant with you. She was so big, I thought you were going to weigh ten pounds.” Margot laughed and sniffed, digging in her pocket for a tissue. “There was something going on with her. She said that she and Richard were having a fight, but I knew it was something more. Something bad she was running from. Carter—” she blew out a big breath “—Carter was like a guard dog over Tyler, it made me so scared something had happened to one of them. With the company Vanessa kept, it only seemed a matter of time before someone got it in their head to hurt one of the little boys.” She shook her head, her lips pressed tight as if keeping the worst of her fears locked inside. “Anyway, Vanessa went into labor in the middle of the night. Real fast. Asleep one minute, screaming her head off the next. We got her into the hospital in the nick of time—I swear I thought you were going to be born into my arms on the front lawn.”

Katie laughed and even Savannah had to smile.

“Vanessa couldn’t breast-feed,” Margot said. “You wouldn’t latch, stubborn little thing. She tried, but you wanted nothing to do with her.”

Savannah’s face crumpled slightly as if bending under the weight she was trying to hold up.

“So I fed you with a bottle,” Margot said. “So little in my arms—nothing but eyelashes and temper—that was you. I held you in my arms and you blinked open those big blurry eyes and shook your little fists at me. And then you focused. On me. You grabbed my finger. Mine.” Margot’s voice broke and her trembling hands pressed against her chest. “I loved you so much I could barely stand it, and I promised you that first night, walking the hallways of that hospital with you in my arms, I promised I would do what I had to do to keep you safe.”

I held my breath, hoping against hope that Savannah could forgive Margot for making the choices she’d made.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the money?” Savannah asked.

“I didn’t know how,” Margot said. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to explain what I knew about your mother. That this was