The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

So much had happened that she wasn’t sure she could keep her balance let alone feel like showing up in public. “Don’t you have work to finish up here first?”

“I’ll come back early tomorrow and finish up. Day after that we’ll be installing your cupboards. Before you know it, this place will be in tip-top shape.”

Abby swallowed. And then there would be no excuse left. She’d have to see a Realtor and put it on the market.

There was something she wanted to do first, though. Especially now.

“Tom, do you know where Edith was buried?”

He nodded. “In the Foster plot in the Jewell Cove cemetery. Elijah’s there too, and Marian. It goes right back to Jedediah.”

“Would you take me there?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I want to take her some roses from Marian’s garden. And then I promise I’ll eat something.”

“I’ll take you. Go clean up and I’ll pack up here.”

“You’re sure?”

He nudged her with an elbow. “You seriously think I’m going to let you drive in your state?”

“I’m not exactly helpless.”

“No, you are definitely not helpless. In fact, I think you’re probably tougher than you realize. Just indulge me. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe. After all, what are friends for?” But his eyes were soft with worry as he touched a finger to her cheek.

CHAPTER 17

The Jewell Cove Cemetery wasn’t actually in the cove at all, but on the outskirts, up a long dirt drive that looked like little more than wheel tracks. A set of wrought-iron gates marked the entrance into a field. It seemed an odd place for a cemetery until Tom explained that there’d once been a church just to the south of it that had burned down sometime in the sixties. The church had been rebuilt closer to town, but the cemetery had stayed.

Abby hopped out of the truck, her hands full of fragrant rosebuds from Marian’s garden. The graveyard was definitely out of the way, but it was one of the most peaceful resting spots Abby could imagine. Cushioned by the crest of the hill, the cemetery was free of traffic sounds. There was just the wind through the leaves and grass and the sound of birds in the trees. A mourning dove had already started a plaintive song nearby. If Abby had to pick a place to rest, this would be it.

“Most of the town has relatives in here,” Tom said, leading the way through slowly. “My grandparents are over there, as well as their parents and brothers and sisters.” He pointed at headstones bearing the Arseneault name. “Over here is the Collins family. Josh’s dad, Frank—my uncle. He was a fisherman, lost at sea.”

Abby paused. There was a spot for Meggie beside him, her name already there with the date left to be engraved. A love that deep and abiding seemed incomprehensible somehow, and yet right all the same.

“The Foster plot is over here,” Tom said quietly, leading her down a worn path. She glanced at headstones along the way—some newer, others so old they were tilting and the engraving was hard to make out. Even though it was off the beaten path, the whole place was well tended, with freshly cut grass trimmed uniformly around the markers. Tom stopped and Abby looked at the headstones. George and Elizabeth. Jedediah and Martha. Robert and Richard, the two sons killed overseas. Abby wondered if there were even bodies there or if the markers had been placed simply in memory. Burton Foster—had he been a cousin? Louisa, died an infant. Elijah. Edith. Marian.

All the bloodline and spouses except Iris, who hadn’t been a Foster at all, and her son. The line had died with Marian.

Abby stepped forward and arranged the roses around the base of Edith’s headstone. “She was there that night,” she murmured, her hand gently tracing the carved words on the headstone. “Marian was there the night Edith died. Do you think she remembered it? I hope not. I just hope Marian knew how much her mother loved her.”

Tom came forward too, squatted down beside her and picked up a stem that she’d dropped. He put his hand on the granite and sighed. “I think Marian knew. Edith made a mistake, but you’re right, she didn’t deserve this. You can’t help who you love. At least Edith had the guts to follow her heart. I used to wish Erin had been willing to risk everything for love. And when she finally was, I would have given everything for her to take it back.”

Abby paused at the tight thread of pain in his voice. “What do you mean? When she chose Josh?”

He shook his head, pushing his hands against his knees. They cracked as he stood up. “She was going to leave him. That’s what no one knows. Not even Josh.”

“She was going to leave him for you?”

Abby stood up now and looked at him. He was staring out over the waving grass of the nearby field. “Did Sarah and Jess tell you about the night Erin and Josh got engaged? About what I said?” At her silent nod, Tom continued. “See, the thing about that night at the Rusty Fern is that even though I was drunk, I was right. She shouldn’t have married Josh. Later Erin confessed to me that Josh checked all the right boxes. I wasn’t good enough for her family.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Abby dismissed the idea. “You’re wonderful. You have a successful business and you’re honest and loyal and hardwork

ing.”

He smiled but there wasn’t much heart in it. “Thanks for saying that, but I was a lot younger, trying to get the business off the ground, a manual laborer with a fixer-upper cottage, and Josh was a doctor with better manners than his rough-around-the-edges cousin.”