She’d vowed when she drained the last drop of whiskey from the bottle the night before that she was through crying, but seeing him brought on a fresh batch of tears. She grabbed him in a tight hug. “What are we going to do without her?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad you’re here. We’ll all need one another to lean on.” His voice was raspy as his tears mixed with hers.
Smoke filled her nose, wiping out all the other scents. She backed up a step but kept a hand on his shoulder. “Did she suffer?”
“No, darlin’. She was talkin’ to me one minute and gone the next. The Lord took her quick.” He pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped her cheeks and then his own.
“The others here?” she asked.
“Dana and Brook are in the house,” Zed answered. “Got here about an hour ago. That Brook is growing up in a hurry. You can sure tell that she’s your niece. She reminds me of you when you were her age—maybe not in looks, but in her attitude. Want me to take your things to one of the cabins?”
“I’ll do it later if I decide to stay. Is Tawny coming?” Harper asked.
Zed folded the hankie and returned it to his pocket. “She called last night and said she’d be here. Your granny has things set up to help you three Clancy sisters, and you shouldn’t let her down.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d already let her grandmother down more than a decade before, but snapped it shut. Now wasn’t the time to peel back the lid on that can of worms. This wasn’t the day to start baring her soul, especially when she’d never told anyone.
“I’ll do my best. Maybe I’ll unload my things in the number one unit,” she said.
“That one is already booked. Fishermen are comin’ in tomorrow mornin’. I’ll put you in number twelve. It’s closer to the house and the café anyway.” He glanced over into the back of the truck at all the boxes. “Looks to me like you come to stay whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Never could get anything past you, Uncle Zed.” She smiled. “The question is whether or not this is where I will land permanently. I can pack and be gone in an hour if it’s not.”
“Well, we’ll hope that you stick around here for more than an hour. My old bones can’t run this place all by myself, and Flora is only stayin’ on for a little longer. She wanted to leave at Christmas, but that’s when—” He rolled his light-colored eyes toward the sky and finally got control. “She promised Annie she’d stick around long enough to get you girls in the groove of things. Now drive this truck on around to cabin number twelve, back it up as close as you can get it to the front door, and we’ll get you unloaded.”
The identical cabins were separated by enough space to park a vehicle. Yet years ago Annie had planted a weeping willow tree between each cabin, so folks parked out front these days. The trees now reached the cabin roofs, and new feathery leaves were pushing winter out of the picture and welcoming spring. Painted white with different-colored trim, each cabin had a tiny porch with a vintage metal lawn chair on the front. It seemed fitting that Harper would be staying in number twelve, with its red trim and door and red chair on the front porch.
It was her punishment for all those nights when she’d sneaked out of the house and met Wyatt in that very cabin, and red—well, that color did bring her sins home to haunt her. But Zed couldn’t have chosen the cabin for those reasons—he had no idea what happened that summer. Maybe it was simply available for long term when the others weren’t. She scolded herself for trying to analyze the whole thing.
Zed was already opening the tailgate when Harper crawled out of her truck for the second time. He pulled a real key on a big fob with the number twelve embossed on it from the pocket of his overalls and tossed it toward her.
She caught it in midair and stuck it in the lock but couldn’t make herself turn it.
The tailgate squeaked as he got it completely down. “This thing needs some oil applied to it. What’re you waitin’ on, girl, Christmas?”
“Maybe Easter,” she tried to tease, but it fell flat.
“Well, that’s still two weeks away, and the nights are cold. You’ll get your death of the pneumonia if you sleep on the porch. Open that door.” He set two suitcases on the porch and went back for boxes.
She sucked in so much air that her chest ached and then let it out slowly as she unlocked the door. Drapes were open on the big back window overlooking tall pines, willows, and a few scrub oak trees. She crossed the floor and watched a bunny rabbit hop along the edge of the wooded area and a couple of squirrels chase each other through the tree limbs. Birds flitted around, singing songs about spring.
Zed shoved the suitcases inside. “Lake living at its best. None of that cable television crap or Wi-Fi stuff, either.”
She turned around quickly. “That’s enough for you to lift and carry, Uncle Zed. I was woolgathering. I’ll get the rest. Thank you for all you’ve done. Especially being with Granny Annie in her last weeks. I’d have been here if you would have called.”
“She wouldn’t let me, and you know how she could be once she set her mind to something.” The sigh that escaped from him sounded as if it came all the way from the depths of his soul. “It sure won’t be the same without her.”
Harper swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to go down. “I thought she’d live forever. She was my rock.” She didn’t want Zed to leave her alone in the cabin—not yet. She needed just a few more minutes before the memories came flooding in like she knew they would.
“She was everyone’s rock, darlin’,” Zed whispered.
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “She told me more than once that you and my grandpa Seamus and she had always been great friends. I bet you could tell us all some stories.”
Zed eased down into a straight-back chair on the other side of the room. “Maybe someday. Only time I was ever away from her was those years I was in the army. She wrote me a letter every day when I was in Vietnam. I still got them all.”
Harper laid her sunglasses on the bed. “Never knew you was in Vietnam.”
“I don’t talk about it much. I didn’t like bein’ away from family. When I came home, Annie hired me to be the handyman, since my daddy passed away that year. It was 1966. I thought I’d stay in the army when I enlisted right out of high school, but that first six-year hitch was enough for me. I came home and Seamus and Annie put me to work. Then, less than two years later, in 1968, my mama died and I took over in the kitchen. Been cookin’ for almost fifty years now.”
“I don’t ever remember you not bein’ here,” Harper said.
“Of course you don’t. I remember the first time your daddy brought you here and me and Annie got to hold you. Lord, that was a wonderful day for sure.” A weak smile turned up his mouth. “I always liked it when you girls called me Uncle Zed. Y’all with your blonde hair and all.”
Harper crossed the room and patted him on the shoulder. “Sometimes blood ain’t a bit thicker than water. You’ve been a wonderful friend and a great uncle.”
Zed laid a wrinkled hand on hers. “Thank you, child. Now I’d best get on over to the café. I’m makin’ hamburgers and fries for everyone to eat before the lawyer gets here. Tawny should be here by noon herself.”