the greatest of these is love.” Below were the dates of her birth and death. It said little about the vibrant sister who was so close to my heart. Tears leaked from my eyes. You’d think by now I’d shed all the tears I had inside me, and yet they came without bidding, without warning, leaving me defenseless in my grief.
How long I stood and stared at Harper’s grave I didn’t know. After a while I sank down onto the bench, grateful it was there. I grabbed a tissue out of my purse to blow my nose. I’d give anything to have my sister back and didn’t know how I would ever fill the huge hole her death had brought into my life.
That evening I made one of Dad’s favorite meals in appreciation for his thoughtfulness. He deserved something special, and I knew this chicken-and-rice casserole would please him. He came home from work, petted Snowball, washed up, and, seeing that dinner was ready, sat down at the table. His eyes widened when I set the ceramic casserole dish in the middle of the table. This was one I used only on special occasions, because it had belonged to Mom.
“What did I do to deserve this?” he asked. Even before I had a chance to answer, he reached for the serving spoon, piling a large heap of the chicken dish onto his plate.
“I was out to see Harper this afternoon and found the bench you built. It’s perfect, Dad. Just perfect.”
His gaze shot up and he frowned. “I’d be happy to take the credit, but I didn’t build a bench. Wish I’d thought of it, though.”
“You didn’t? Then John must have had it done.” Thoughtful as he was and as much as he loved Harper, his name was the first to pop into my head if Dad wasn’t responsible.
Dad took a big bite and then set his fork aside. “Now that you mention it, Sean was in the hardware store a while back and purchased lumber. I wasn’t the one who helped him. He saw me and we exchanged pleasantries. I didn’t think to ask him what he intended to make. My guess is it was that bench.”
* * *
—
The following morning, just like clockwork, Sean came for his mocha. His eyes immediately sought me out. That, too, was part of his ritual. I pretended not to notice, but he knew. He always knew.
“Morning, Willa,” he said when he stepped up to the counter.
“Your usual?” I avoided eye contact.
“Please.”
My stomach twisted and I knew I had to say something. Looking up, I asked, “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Surprise filled his eyes, and for a moment he looked speechless. “I’d enjoy that very much.”
“Find a table and I’ll deliver your mocha.”
He paid and then walked to the table in the farthest corner of my small shop, which suited me. I didn’t want anyone listening in on our conversation. Once I finished brewing his mocha and poured myself a cup of coffee, I carried our drinks over on a tray along with a slice of coconut cake.
“Cake?” he said when I set the plate down, along with the fork.
“Coconut. I baked it this morning.”
“For me?” He reached for it and took a bite. Savoring it, he briefly closed his eyes. “It’s even better than I remember.”
“You can take the rest of it home if you’d like.”
“The entire cake?”
I nodded and then nervously twisted my hands together in my lap. “I…I saw the bench.”
He grinned a bit sheepishly. “It’s my Christmas gift to you and your family. I knew the holidays would be particularly hard. I wanted to do something to let you know I’m thinking of you. Of all of you. I haven’t stopped loving you, Willa, and I won’t.”
I lowered my head, and the knot in my throat made it difficult to swallow.
“I haven’t given up on us. I love you and that’s not going to change. I’m here for however long it takes to win you back.”
I didn’t know what to say. He made it hard to resist. I could feel myself weakening and guessed it was all tied up in my lack of a good night’s rest.
As though he sensed the protective shield around my heart cracking, he asked, “Would it be all right if we had coffee together once a week? That’s all I’m asking. Just once a week?”
By all that was right I should’ve turned him down, but I found I couldn’t. “Only