Nope.

Not at all.

Besides, even if I did have any fears or lingering concerns, they’d have to wait. Tomorrow was already booked solid.

Tomorrow, I marry my husband.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Preppy

“You picked a creepy-ass place for this shindig, Prep,” Bear grumbled. “Was the county morgue all booked up or something?”

“It’s not my fault your as unsentimental as you are a bad dresser,” I said, flicking my cigarette. “This place is sweet and utter perfection. Don’t be pissed at me because Thia made you adult today and wear a shirt.”

“Okay, girls, calm it down over there,” King said, his arm around Ray’s shoulders.

“Ti said you told her I HAD to wear one,” Bear spat, pulling on the sleeves of the dress shirt he had put on under his cut.

“You got played, motherfucka!” I sang in a high-pitched voice.

Thia gave Bear a knowing wave from where she stood over by the front gate. “This thing’s itchy as fuck, I’m taking it off,” he said, pulling off his cut to remove his shirt just as Thia came walking up to us.

“Too fucking late, Beary Boo Boo,” I teased.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shrugging his cut back in place. “It’s a good thing I’m your best man or this thing would be off already.”

“I thought I was your best man?” King asked.

I didn’t get a chance to tell them that neither of them were my best man because just then Thia passed Bear and came up to me instead. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, her pinkish-red hair, which was usually unruly and sticking out in every direction, had been tamed into a pile of curls pinned to the top of her head.

“Uh, sure,” I responded, following her around to a quiet corner. “You know, I don’t think we’ve ever talked more than a handful of times,” I pointed out. “And I could use some new ammo against Bear every so often.”

“Talking would be nice,” Thia said. She reached into the pocket on her dress. “I wanted to give you something,” she handed me a folded piece of paper.

“Ti, I’m getting married today. It’s a little too late for love notes, don’t you think?” I asked, turning the paper over in my hand. Thia giggled and we both glanced over to Bear who was watching us with his arms crossed over his chest and a hard look on his face.

“Do you know how Grace was always hiding things?” Thia asked, rocking from her heels to her toes.

“Yeah,” I said. “I remember that anytime she needed cash she’d be digging something up or hunting in the back of the freezer. She’d have things taped to the backs of picture frames and cereal boxes.”

“Well, since we’ve moved into her house I’ve found a lot of things like that. A twenty-dollar bill here and there. A coupon for free entrance to the swap meet. A ledger to a bank account that no longer exists.” Thia pointed to the page I’d begun to unfold. Samuel was written across the top in familiar handwriting. “This was taped to a truss in the attic. I found it while I was cleaning it out. I thought that you might want it today, so you can have a piece of her with you.”

I glanced down at Grace’s handwriting, running my fingers over her words. “Thanks, Ti,” I said, not able to take my appreciation any further with words because I was amazed at what I was holding.

“I’ll leave you alone.” Thia turned away.

“No, please. Stay,” I said.

“I’m not gonna hold you while you cry,” Thia teased. “But I’ll stay.”

“Deal,” I said, turning my attention to Grace’s words, written in neat cursive.

My Dearest Samuel,

This might just be a crazy letter coming from an even crazier old woman, but I feel in my heart I have to write it anyway. You may never read this, but I can’t NOT write it.

In case you didn’t already know, you’re dead. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told by numerous individuals who all make me want to run them over with Edmond’s old truck. So that’s what I’ve believed all these months. That you’re gone. I believed it when I held your blood-stained shirt at the hospital. I believed it when we lowered your casket into the ground.

I’ve mourned you. Every single day I’ve mourned you, my dear boy.

But something is missing and at first I thought it was a normal feeling of loss. Loss of light that always surrounded you. The color in my life. But it’s more than that. A lot more.

Because when I get on my knees at night and pray, I close my eyes and pray I don’t feel like you’re on the other side like my Edmond.

I haven’t brought this up to anyone, and I know it’s impossible, but my hope is that this is all either a nightmare or I am indeed crazy.

If I am crazy then I wish to save sanity for those who want or need it more, because I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have hope that you aren’t out there somewhere.

Heart beating, warm skin.

I have hope. And because I have hope, I still have you.

It’s the little things I miss about you. Like correcting you even though I loved every word that comes out of your smart mouth, even the bad ones. Even when I was scowling at you on the outside, my heart was always smiling on the inside. Because you, Samuel, are a rare one. Someone who is as smart as they are cunning. Ever since the day King brought you to the house, just a skinny wrinkled-shirt boy, I loved you.

I hope she does too.

And my hope is that when you do come back, you go to whoever it is I’ve seen the flashes of sadness for in your eyes, and you hold onto her and never ever let her go. You’re a good person my Samuel, even if you’ve never thought you were.

Come back to us and share your burdens with your brothers. With your family. Let them be there for you like you’ve always been there for us. Let HER be there for you.

Whoever she is.

You are hard headed. The most stubborn young man I’ve ever met in my entire life and that says a lot considering I know Abel and Brantley and I’ve lived a long life and have met many, many people. None as unique as you. None as flawed as you. None as passionate and wild and enthusiastic about life as you. There is NO substitute for Samuel Clearwater and there never will be.

Life is colorless without you.