“No. Driving you. You follow me to U-Haul. It’s not far. I’m going to rent a half trailer, hook your car up and tow you. We’ll ride together. We can hold hands and talk. Or not talk, if you’re feeling quiet. You can sleep a little—grieving wears a person out. We’ll stop for a good meal because I bet you didn’t eat...”

“Al’s going to be jealous. He wanted to drive me.”

“He needs to watch it,” Matt said teasingly. “This is my territory now.”

“It is, isn’t it? I should mind being called territory, but I don’t. You’ll be missed on the farm...”

“No, it’s all good. No one’s expecting me, but I’ll make a call, let Mama know I’m busy. She’ll tell Paco and George.”

“Do they know about me? That I’m damaged? That my baby died and I’m so damaged?”

“I haven’t told them the particulars, just that you needed me today. You can tell them someday if you feel like it.” He stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “You ready or do you want more time here?”

“I’m ready,” she said.

Matt hated to put her in the car to drive even a short distance. Ginger never mentioned him, not even once, but Matt thought about him—that loser, Mick. He probably changed his name to Mick to be like Jagger. He should have been with her when that baby died. And even though Matt didn’t want him anywhere near her ever again, he should be here now, propping her up, supporting her. He should cry that his son died.

Matt hated him.

* * *

Ginger did sleep a little on the way back to Thunder Point. They stopped just outside Eugene at a homey little country restaurant that also sold hams and pies. Ginger had a bowl of soup with crackers and half a sandwich while Matt, no doubt concerned about getting enough to eat when they got back to that little loft, indulged in a large meat loaf and potato dinner. She called her parents, explaining she’d been to the cemetery and her suspicions were right—they’d made a visit early that morning and left a bouquet. She had planned to visit Josh’s grave alone, spend a couple of hours and leave, not feeling like seeing people.

Then she explained Matt being there, taking her back home. “I didn’t tell him I’d be there and if he’d asked to come with me I would’ve said I wanted to be alone,” she said to her mother. “But I’m so glad he was there. And it turned out to be the right thing for me.”

Then she slept a little more. He unhooked the tow bar and parked her car behind the flower shop while she went upstairs. Once she was in her secure little loft apartment, she called Ray Anne and asked her to relay to Al that she was fine.

“I went to the cemetery today to put flowers on his little grave, and Matt came. He guessed I might be there. He brought his own flowers. It was so lovely that he’d do that without being asked, without being needed.”

“Oh, baby,” Ray Anne singsonged. “And now? Feeling all right?”

“Feeling a little wrung out, honestly. But I’ll sleep tonight and tomorrow I’ll be so happy to get back to my flowers and friends.” Unbelievably, that was the truth. She needed that pilgrimage to Portland. She wished there was more by way of closure, but that was as good as it was going to get. She was beginning to understand that there was nothing she could do, no ritual that could make the feelings go away. The sadness would just have to leave her with time as replaced by new feelings. Remembering him, his sweet little face, that belonged to her.

Matt said he had no instincts where women were concerned, but she was amazed by them. He seemed to give her plenty of space while staying near. At about eight that night he went out for ice cream, which they ate in bed, then they talked a little while about ordinary things—she wanted to know about the grapes and pears. He wanted to know about her flowers and Grace’s mother. He told her they’d be breeding sheep at George’s in the late fall. He was slated to teach a few classes as a visiting professor in the fall after the harvest. She was looking forward to the harvest celebrations and food.

At the first light of dawn Ginger woke to the gentle stroke of Matt’s rough hand on her upper arm. She turned to him and smiled.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Okay. You?”

He just nodded. “If you think you’ll be all right, I should get back to the farm.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I was there.”

“I meant, thank you for going to his grave even though I might not have been there. He wasn’t part of your life. That was one of the nicest things anyone has done for me.”

“You’re part of my life,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

He pulled on his clothes and slid out the door quietly.

Fourteen

Lin Su got into the car to go to Winnie’s house. Her son was already in the passenger seat, his backpack in the back. “I brought you a clean shirt,” she told Charlie. “After you knock around the beach and town all day, we’re having dinner with Winnie and her family because I’m taking a turn at cooking. They’d like you to come, too.”

“You don’t usually cook,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“You’re right, I don’t. But this is a very unusual job. I’m the nursing help but the whole family is around. Usually when I’m the nursing help, it’s just me and the patient with maybe one or two other relatives checking in.”

“And then when I came with you, I could just watch TV,” he said.

True enough, she thought. Her patient would usually be in the bedroom and as long as Charlie didn’t mess up the house, kept the volume very low and didn’t eat their food, he could tag along and no one knew the difference.

“Troy said you can watch the TV in their game room downstairs as long as you don’t mess up the house. You can use your computer just about anywhere, upstairs or down—you can jump on their Wi-Fi. Not too much computer or TV, though. We have to stay out of the way of these people or I’ll lose my job.”

Actually, Troy had not been specific about the messy house or about the amount of time Charlie spent watching TV. He had said Charlie was welcome in the house whenever he wanted or needed to be.

“I’m an expert at staying out of the way...”