“Yeah, I made that,” I said, my throat thick.
For when you’re adrift.
Now that pendant was locked in some prison storage room, and I was adrift…
“He hired a management company to take care of us,” Maryann said.
“From prison?”
She nodded. “Apparently, his uncle owned both complexes free and clear. Ronan’s company has orders to keep the rent the same no matter how long he’s gone and to use every penny of our payments to make repairs as soon as an issue comes up. No scrimping.”
Maryann’s eyes filled, and she reached across the table to take my hand.
“I’m on the verge of a breakdown over him,” she said. “I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”
Sick. I felt sick at the idea of a life without Ronan.
I left Maryann’s place with hugs from her twins and a promise from her that we’d stay in touch. In the parking lot, I looked up at the corner unit, the window dark.
I ducked inside the car just as a torrent of sobs wracked me.
At home, Bibi was knitting on the couch, Ethel and Lucy curled around her ankles.
“Hey, honey,” she said. “Hungry? I have some chicken with biscuits and gravy cooking. Maybe some basil mint lemonade?”
The idea of food made my stomach twist. “Maybe later.”
I sat on the couch beside her and opened my laptop. The shop had been closed, losing money every day. I still had repairs to make before reopening, though it all seemed so tedious. Too much work to do and I didn’t have the energy—the fire—to do it.
I opened my banking app to see what I had left in savings and saw that Ronan had made good on his word. My account was more than sixty-thousand dollars richer.
A little cry fell out of me and I shut the laptop.
“What is it?” Bibi asked, alarmed.
“He gave me his money, Bibi,” I said, the tears flowing. “All of his money…”
“Oh, honey…” Bibi drew me to her and held me against her bosom. My tears dampened the lilac of her housedress. “Then he wants you to have it.”
“I can’t. It feels like…he died and left it to me like his uncle did. Because he won’t talk to me, Bibi. He’s cutting me out of his life, trying to force me to move on.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I was afraid of that.”
“Doesn’t he get it?” I cried. “Doesn’t he understand how much I love him? I can never move on from him.”
Bibi shook her head, her voice heavy. “The boy was shuffled from home to home for ten years after his mama died. He has no idea that good things can stick. That people can care about him for longer than a month or two. In his world, moving on is what people do, so he’s doing what he thinks is the best thing for you.”
“Joke’s on him; he is the best thing for me.” I sat up, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. “He told me he did it. His hands were bruised, and he confessed to beating up Frankie.”
“Do you believe that?”
I didn’t have to think about it; the answer rose up from the deepest part of me, a lone truth in an ocean of grief.
“I know he didn’t.” I looked to her, pleading. “But what do I do now, Bibi? Just what the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Bibi faced forward, thinking for a minute. “Ronan has been pushed around by life so hard… I suspect he’s given little pieces of his heart to those he trusted and watched them walk away with them. Now something like this happens, and I worry there’s nothing left.”
I raised my head. “Is there?”
“You have the last piece of his heart, Shiloh. For good or bad. Silence or no silence. One year or ten. It’s in your hands.” She gave my fingers a squeeze. “And it’s up to you what you do with it.”
Part V
Chapter Thirty-Three
Three years later…
April
My eyes burned as I focused on the delicate filigree on my current piece—a silver ring with multicolored gemstones—the kind of work that required more than four hours of sleep at night. I kept hoping I’d get used to this new schedule, but three years in, and I was only more exhausted with each passing day.
Each day without him…
I’d put a small workstation in the back of Rare Earth’s showroom so I could create jewelry and man the store at the same time, not an hour wasted.
I set the ring down and stretched. It had taken an entire month to get the shop reopened after Frankie Dowd had his fun with it. One month of lost revenue and one month of rent I still had to pay. Now, it was nearly what it had been before, except without Ronan’s displays. I had to purchase new ones because he wasn’t here.
The store had been perfect. We’d been perfect in our own imperfect way…
My cell phone rang with Violet’s number.
“Hey, you,” I said, trying not to sound as tired as I felt. “By my calculations, you’re back in town in T-minus three months. Do not tell me there’s been a change of plans.”
She laughed. “No change. I’ll be there before you know it. I cannot wait to hug you again and be home.”
Violet had struggled through three years of school at Baylor while stardom had kept Miller insanely busy, recording and touring. But that lifestyle had taken its toll with his diabetes. He and Violet were moving back to Santa Cruz so he could rest, and she could finish her undergrad at UCSC before embarking on God-knew how many years of medical school.
“I can’t wait.” I forced a laugh to cover the cracks in my voice. “Literally.”
“You okay?” Violet asked. The woman missed nothing. “I mean…okay is relative, given everything that’s happened, but you sound extra tired.”
“I’m okay. Hanging in there.”
“Shi, you don’t have to pretend with me. If you’re having a hard time, you can tell me.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes. “It is hard, Vi,” I admitted. “All of it. And Bibi has been so great—as usual—but I don’t want to worry her. Or Mama.” I pulled myself together and huffed a breath. “I’m counting down the days till you come back, so I can dump my problems in your lap instead. Or at least grab a coffee with someone my own age.”
Violet laughed. “I am ready to be dumped on. Wait…that came out weird.”
I smiled and then a figure passed by the front of my shop. I could’ve sworn I’d seen the same gray coat, the same hunched shoulders earlier this morning.
“How is everyone?” Violet asked.
“Good. Except Bibi’s getting up there. Her blood pressure isn’t great, and her vision is all but gone. Being away from home to sit at a shop that’s empty half the day feels like I’m failing in all the ways.”
“You’re not failing. You’re taking care of everyone, and you’re doing it beautifully. But wait…business is slow? I thought you said you had a great winter?”
“I did, but it ebbs and flows with the tourists. That’s just the business. I need to keep adjusting, calibrating, and working to keep up. But damn…”