Home > A Cup of Silver Linings (Dove Pond # 2)(2)

A Cup of Silver Linings (Dove Pond # 2)(2)
Author: Karen Hawkins

She’d since thrown the shoes away because she couldn’t look at them without remembering what had happened next. She’d let out a moan like a wounded tiger and had dropped to her knees, desperately digging through the trash, looking for the invitation. When her fingers had closed over the discarded paper, her tears had turned into sobs, her pain tinged a bitter blue from the impersonal tone of the invitation. The truth hurt—that even while dying, Julie hadn’t bothered to reach out to her mother.

Ellen had sat on the floor surrounded by trash as she hugged the ridiculous piece of construction paper, weeping for the daughter she’d lost and for the relationship she’d always hoped for, but now knew she would never have.

Eventually Ellen had run out of tears. So she’d done as she always had whenever she faced a problem: she’d picked herself up, dried her tears, closed the door on her too-raw emotions, and made a list of things that needed to be done. She’d taken time off work and packed for her trip, pausing now and then to add to her to-do list. As she did so, her sadness and fury grew. Once again Julie had withheld something precious from Ellen, her right to say goodbye to her one and only child. Ellen had been left standing on an emotional precipice, alone and empty.

A cool breeze rippled the dragon flag, and Ellen tugged her black wool coat tighter, catching Kristen’s questioning gaze. Ellen realized her expression must be fury-tight, so she forced her mouth to curve into what she hoped was a comforting smile.

Kristen didn’t look convinced. She turned her attention back to the preacher, the diamond stud in her nose sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. It was painfully obvious that Julie had allowed her daughter all the excesses she’d craved as a child, and Ellen shuddered to think what damage had already been done.

As if she could hear her grandmother’s thoughts, Kristen hunched her shoulders against the breeze, causing her red-and-purple kimono to flap around her knees. Earlier today, as they’d gotten ready to attend the service, Ellen had balked at the sight of Kristen wearing the garment, but the teenager had flatly refused to change, saying she and her mother had picked out the kimono during Julie’s final week.

Final week. Ellen’s throat tightened. She hoped and prayed Julie hadn’t suffered. Please, no. Julie, why didn’t you call me? I would have come. I would have helped.

Fresh tears burned Ellen’s eyes, and she furiously blinked them away behind her sunglasses. She would not cry. Would. Not.

The reverend, a round man who looked sweaty even on a chilly January afternoon, smiled at Kristen before he launched into his opening. “My friends, we are not here to mourn the loss of resident artist and beloved town member Julie Foster but rather to celebrate the beauty she added to our lives by sharing her artwork, her smile, her life, and her lovely daughter, Kristen. Julie was a warm person. A generous person. A vibrant person. We will all miss her dearly.” He faltered a bit as his gaze brushed by Ellen.

Ellen wondered what Julie had told people about their contentious relationship but decided it was best she didn’t know. Still, she couldn’t help noticing the uncertain glances cast her way, both curious and faintly disapproving. Had Julie complained about her, or were they upset Ellen wasn’t weeping like a broken doll? They didn’t know her if they expected a public display. When she wept, it was in private, away from prying, judgmental eyes.

Ellen’s restless gaze swept over the residents of Dove Pond. She recognized a few of them from the five years she and Julie had lived here after the divorce. During the day, while Julie was in school, Ellen had been fighting her way to the top of an architectural firm in Asheville, where she’d overseen a number of complex commercial rehab projects. In those days, getting Julie to the bus stop on time had been a struggle, and Ellen could still see her daughter dashing out of the house, her thick blond hair uncombed, her book bag half open, her socks mismatched as she ran to meet the school bus, which was usually honking urgently from the street. That was Julie in a nutshell. She’d rushed through life underprepared and thoughtless, causing her organized and orderly mother decades of worry and concern. And now, for all of Julie’s troublesome and rebellious ways, she was gone.

Forever.

Ellen’s stomach ached as if someone had punched her. This was not how things were supposed to end. She and Julie were supposed to overcome their issues. They were supposed to become close—friends, even—working together to make Kristen’s life better.

Ellen’s eyes filled with tears yet again, so she took a deep breath and focused on the reverend, who had just asked Ava Dove to come forward and read. Ellen watched the young blond woman make her way from the crowd, a small book in her hands. Ellen disliked the Dove sisters almost as much as she disliked this funeral. The entire town admired the Doves, and some even believed the seven sisters possessed “special” abilities, which was beyond ridiculous. During the drive over, Ellen had been horrified to hear Kristen say how much she loved working for Ava Dove. From some of the things Kristen had said over the past few days, it was obvious she believed the specialty teas Ava made from the flowers and herbs she grew in her greenhouses could cure a number of ills, including arthritis, heart palpitations, and even broken hearts. Ellen had had to fight to keep her lip from curling in disdain.

The Dove Family Nonsense, as Ellen thought of it, was exactly the sort of fairy tale–ish, new age baloney Julie had loved and had apparently fed to an impressionable Kristen. To accomplish Action Item Three, Ellen would have to disentangle her granddaughter from the town, which meant dissolving her close relationship with Ava Dove. That wouldn’t be an easy task, as Kristen worked almost every day after school with Ava, who was planning on opening a tearoom this coming spring. Kristen positively glowed when she talked about it.

Ellen narrowly eyed Ava where she stood beside the preacher, ready to speak. She wore horribly inappropriate purple coveralls under a mustard-yellow Carhartt coat with a bright patch on one front pocket that read AVA DOVE’S LANDSCAPING AND GOURMET SPECIALTY TEAS.

Ridiculous. Am I the only person who understands the proper attire for a funeral?

Ava cleared her throat. “Julie and I became close this past year during her illness, and I consider her and Kristen family.” Ava’s pale gray-green gaze found Kristen’s, and they smiled at each other, sending a twinge of jealousy through Ellen.

“Julie asked me to share a passage from her favorite book.” Ava opened the book, removed a bright pink Post-it, and began reading. “ ‘Kama is the enjoyment of appropriate objects by the five senses of hearing, feeling, seeing, tasting, and smelling, assisted by the mind together with the soul.’ ”

Of course Julie would have some sort of ridiculous Far Eastern babble read at her funeral.

Kristen whispered, “Recognize the book?”

Ellen shook her head.

Kristen smirked. “It’s the Kama Sutra.”

Ellen wondered if a person could burst into flames with mortification. If it had been physically possible, she was certain she would have already done so long before now.

An odd noise came from Kristen. Ellen cut her granddaughter a sharp look and caught the teen attempting to smother a laugh, looking so much like her mother that Ellen’s heart stuttered a beat. In that grin was a streak of pure rebellion, the same streak that had pushed Julie to run away from home at the tender age of seventeen, beginning the worst years of Ellen’s life. And now, there it was, on Kristen’s face. For the first time since Ellen had arrived in Dove Pond, a sliver of fear pierced her soul. Please, God, don’t let us go down the same road Julie and I traveled. I can’t lose Kristen, too. I can’t. I just can’t.

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