Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
I watch as the coffin is lowered into the ground, a beautiful bouquet of flowers resting on it. The ceremony is called to an end.
“Come on, let’s head back to Home,” Graham says, taking me by the hand.
I nod, Lemon handing me Lucy as we head back to his truck.
I feel especially bad for her. She’ll never know her mother, what kind of person she was, what she struggled with. I imagined the pains she would face as she came to terms with never knowing the woman who birthed her.
“Are you alright?” Graham asks as we walk.
“I just buried my sister. Lucy’s mother. I’m as alright as someone can be in such a situation, I guess.”
“Time heals, Tallie. And I’ll help how I can.”
“You’ve helped so much already.”
“Yes. But I told you. We care. You’re family now, and by extension, even if we never knew her? That makes Julia family.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I cry for Lucy. She’ll never know her mother.”
“Then do what you can. Remember your sister, Tallie. Keep alive what you can about her, and be sure to tell Lucy every detail when she’s a little bit older so she can remember too. Family’s important, and it’s one of the things that the Roughs hold dear.”
I nod. I’d do just that. Who knows? Maybe someday we’ll recover what’s in Julia’s apartment, and I’ll have something to share with Lucy beyond simply memories. But if that’s all we have? I’ll try to make them as strong and vivid as possible.
The entire Rough family goes to the patriarchal home, a beautiful homestead, one that was built by Red Rough himself over the course of thirty years. Graham jokes that the house was done about a dozen times, but his father always got a new idea to expand it and make it a better family home. He might be done for good now, but the itch might strike him and sixty-year-old Red might head up yet another construction project.
After some chaos of preparing a meal in the kitchen, there’s a huge family dinner. It’s way bigger than I could ever imagine, and this isn’t even Thanksgiving or Christmas.
“We do something like this every Sunday,” Graham says as people pass around the stuffing.
“Every Sunday?”
He laughs. “Usually it’s not this extreme or fancy. Have you ever had taco night with this many people?”
“I haven’t had a taco night at all.”
“Well, we’re going to change that.”
After the meal, everyone gathers in the living room, which I'm told is different from the family room because there’s no TV. Because apparently this place has another room with four couches that has a TV for family movie night.
I don’t think the Roughs are billionaires, or even millionaires, but they’re wealthy compared to anyone I’ve ever known, and a lot of their riches were made by building them themselves.
Anyway, there's a lot of chatter, but the main focus in the center of the room is Lucy, who everyone adores and is giving plenty of attention to. It almost makes me jealous that she’s getting all this attention. When I was a child, I only really had my own mother giving a care in the world about me.
The attention here is split with a five-year-old, who of course wants plenty of attention too. Plum, I believe her name is, because the food-centric naming conventions have carried on strong with everyone, an injection from Graham’s mother’s family, a melding of two family legacies.
“She’s such a darling,” Meadow, one of the wives of the Rough brothers, tells me. “Healthy too. Must have been hell to carry for nine months.”
“Uh,” I nibble on my lip. I haven’t had a chance to talk to a lot of the people here yet, and apparently Graham hasn’t filled them in yet, either. Do I go into it all now, today?
“Oh yes, you should give her a nickname based on that,” Prairie adds. She’s another of the wives, though it took me a moment to realize that she and Meadow weren’t sisters because they’re so close. “What did you crave during your pregnancy?”
Do I tell them? Do I keep lying? What did Julia crave during her pregnancy anyway? I don’t recall anything particular beyond her normal cravings, and calling Lucy oatmeal creme pie doesn’t have the same catchiness as ‘Lemon.’
I can’t keep running forever. I need to be honest. After all, an aunt taking up the role of mother after a tragedy isn’t that unusual, is it? “I couldn’t tell you what cravings she inspired, girls. I’m not her mother. Not by giving birth to her, at least.”
There’s a sudden silence in the room. Graham puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry – we’ve all been so busy, I should have told them.”
“Told us what?” Reuben asks as he sips his beer.
“Lucy is my niece,” I begin. “I didn’t mean to mislead anyone. Everyone just assumed I was her mother, and with being worried about securing custody, I guess I figured it’d be easier if everyone believed that. But with Julia gone, she’s as good as my daughter now. I’m going to raise her as my own. I’m going to give every of my sister that I have, and be the mother she deserves.”