From across the grave, Ava continued reading, “ ‘… without becoming the slave of his passions, will obtain success in everything he may do.’ ” She closed the book, a misty smile quivering. “So true.”
Everyone nodded, wiping their eyes and sniffling.
Aware of Kristen’s critical gaze, Ellen forced herself to murmur, “Wonderful.” Wonderful that it’s over.
Ava handed the book to her sister Sarah, who’d quietly come to stand beside her. Although Sarah was five years younger, she looked enough like Ava to be her twin. The younger Dove sister wore a flowing, multicolored maxi dress under a long blue coat, which clashed with her bright orange sneakers.
People in this strange little town thought Sarah was a “book charmer,” which would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. They thought she could talk to books and—more ridiculous yet—books could talk back, telling her which people they’d like to visit. Ellen supposed such a skill, if it existed, would be useful to Sarah, who was the town librarian. All the Doves think they’re so special. Well, they’re not. They’re strange, that’s what they are. Every one of them.
She wondered briefly where the other Dove sisters and their mother were. Perhaps, tired of the strangeness of this tiny town, they’d moved away. Which would be completely understandable.
Sarah patted the book and favored the group of mourners with a far-too-cheerful smile. “Julie asked me to set this book aside at the library in case any of you would like to check it out.”
“So kind,” the preacher said. “Thank you for that reading, Ava. And, Sarah, thank you for making the book available. After that lovely excerpt, I’m sure a lot of us will be checking out the Kama Sutra.” He beamed around the group. “I met with Julie and Kristen as they planned this service, and I was impressed with their determination to bring joy today rather than having ‘the usual weep-fest,’ as Julie called it. She wanted all of us to leave today filled with hope and love. In keeping with that wish, before you head out, please take the time to hug your neighbor.” He smiled. “God bless you. See you all Sunday.”
Hugs? With this group? No, thank you. Ellen turned toward Kristen but found her hugging her friend Missy.
“Mrs. Foster?”
She instantly recognized Ava Dove’s voice and, stifling a sigh, reluctantly turned to face the young woman.
Ava stood beside Mrs. Jolean Hamilton, known throughout town as “Aunt Jo.” Ellen remembered the round, cane-carrying, artificially black-haired, ebony-skinned old woman well, as she had a startling tendency to say whatever was on her mind. At Aunt Jo’s side sat a fat, wheezy bulldog, who was tentatively sniffing in Ellen’s direction.
Ellen ignored the animal and offered a polite smile to Aunt Jo and Ava. “How nice of you both to come and say hello. Kristen said she didn’t know what she or her mother would have done without you two these past few weeks.” When Ellen had arrived at Julie’s, she’d been relieved to find Ava staying with Kristen. Ellen now knew that Ava and Aunt Jo had taken turns cooking and cleaning and generally looking after things when Julie had grown too weak to get out of bed.
Ellen’s jaw ached. That should have been me. But it hadn’t been and, between waves of disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel a deep, genuine gratitude. “I owe you more than I can say.”
Ava’s smile trembled, but she held on to it. “I’m going to miss Julie.”
“The whole town will.” Aunt Jo cocked an eyebrow at Ellen, a challenge in her clear brown eyes. “You haven’t been in Dove Pond for quite a while. I daresay most of the people here today are strangers to you.”
“I remember the Doves, of course,” Ellen replied smoothly. “And I remember you, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“I remember you too,” Aunt Jo said. “You and Julie used to yell at each other in your front yard just about every morning.”
Ellen’s face heated. “We had a contentious relationship, but she was my daughter and I loved her.”
Aunt Jo clicked her tongue. “Sweet Betsy, I wasn’t criticizing you. Children are our greatest joys and our greatest pains in the ass, too. Mrs. Foster—Ellen, isn’t it?”
Ellen nodded.
“Ha! I did remember it. You look as if you could use one of those hugs the preacher ordered.”
What? Oh no. “That’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary. I was just about to tell Kristen we should le—”
“We all need a hug now and then.” Aunt Jo handed her cane to Ava and rolled up the sleeves of her bright pink windbreaker.
Ellen took a step back. She rarely hugged people, even those she was close to. She’d already put up with so much today and—
“Grandma.”
Ellen found Kristen at her elbow, her face set in stubborn lines, her friend Missy standing behind her wearing a similarly disapproving expression.
Fine. Ellen pasted on a smile, one she was sure looked as if it had been cut from cardboard, turned back to Aunt Jo, and bestowed an air kiss on the elderly woman’s round cheek. There. That should do it.
She was just straightening when Aunt Jo slipped her arms around Ellen and gave her a massive, enveloping hug. Despite being shorter by at least six inches, Aunt Jo lifted Ellen to her toes, sending one of her high heels tumbling off. It rolled across the grass, stopping perilously close to the open grave.
Gasping for air, Ellen was planted back on her feet and released. Her remaining heel sunk into the soft grass, and as she stepped back, trying to regain her balance, she almost tripped over Aunt Jo’s bulldog. Startled, the dog barked, hopping around and threatening to wrap them both in his orange-and-purple-striped leash.
Staggering back upright, Ellen caught Kristen trying to hide a grin.
“You almost stepped on Moon Pie,” Aunt Jo admonished. “You should be more careful. He’s more fragile than he looks.”
Face hot, and too upset to speak, Ellen left the small group and went to collect her shoe.
“Welcome to Dove Pond, Grandma!” Kristen called after her as both she and Missy stifled giggles.
Jaw tight, Ellen slipped her shoe back in place. She took her time, calming herself with the thought that in just a few minutes, with the exception of Kristen, Ellen would be shut of this place and these people. I cannot wait. Calmed, she forced herself to return to the small group, ignoring the dog that was still barking loudly.
“Moon Pie, shush!” Aunt Jo said to the animal. “I’ve already told you twice that it isn’t polite to bark at a funeral.”
Moon Pie, panting, dropped to his haunches and sat politely as if all he’d needed was a reminder of that earlier talk.
Kristen beamed at the dog. “Who’s a good boy? You are!”
The dog’s tail wagged so hard its butt wagged with it.
Glad to no longer be the center of attention, Ellen murmured, “Such a good boy.”
Ava eyed Ellen with surprise. “You like dogs?”
“I love dogs like Moon Pie.” Which was true. She loved any dog she didn’t have to clean up after.
Ava looked relieved. “That’s good. You’re about to inherit four of them.”
Ellen’s smile froze in place. “I beg your pardon?”