Incandescent

Delaney

September

I pulled into Edgewater Park, glad the rain had held off. Planning an outdoor event in Cleveland was always tricky, even in the late summer months. A storm could blow over the lake at a moment’s notice, but given the stifling humidity in the air, it might almost be a welcome change.

The upper pavilions were located near the auxiliary entrance, and the beach was down below, which was a sight all its own. Even if sunbathers weren’t in view from this location, Lake Erie was a glorious, sprawling backdrop, the smooth surface glinting like diamonds in the sun.

My cell buzzed with a text from my friend, Marcus.

Good luck.

I breathed out and quickly fired back a thanks once I’d pulled into a space.

My sixteen-year-old son, Grant, was sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, holding a plate of brownies we’d made using his late mother’s recipe. It’d been a tough twenty-two months since Rebecca passed due to long-term complications from a stroke she’d suffered after his birth. There had always been the risk of another occurrence, a topic we’d tiptoed around for years, and in the end, it’d been a powerful enough one to take her life.

I’d stepped in to fill her shoes as much as I could, but it definitely wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—because she’d been the rock of our little family and the love of both our lives. She and Grant had connected on a level he and I never would. He was quirky and brilliant, just like his mother. Whereas she geeked out on science, he loved history, and when their passions overlapped, they were a force to be reckoned with. Grant went all in, collecting relics he’d found in various locations, and she indulged his hobby more enthusiastically than me. Not that I didn’t make an effort, but he could tell I was trying too hard—and failing miserably.

Grant adjusted his colonial-era tricorn hat, which was a bit snug on his head. I could already see the sweat forming at his temples, but I kept my lips in a neat, straight line, hoping to get through the day without much fuss. Not that Rebecca’s family wasn’t used to him wearing one period piece or another, despite the temperature. Thankfully, he’d left his militia coat with the hundred silver buttons in the back seat, possibly deciding the humidity might do him in.

I glanced toward the pavilion, spotting her parents and various aunts and cousins already gathered there. My father-in-law, Howard, was in his wheelchair for this event, but around the house, he normally used his walker. His health had deteriorated the past few years, and now that he needed dialysis, he was mostly homebound.

My gut tightened. It was bittersweet coming to their annual family reunion. We’d nearly passed on attending last year because we just…weren’t ready. We’d only stayed an hour, Grant swiping at his eyes the whole way home. We were a disaster, and it took time to process our sorrow.

I tried to stay strong for Grant, breaking down only after he was in bed. But he’d called me on it more than once. “Mom always said to get stuff out and not hold it in.” So now, I tried to be more open when I was having a bad day. Tried being the key word. Sometimes there was no other way around it. When you went through this sort of grief, it was hard to hide the balder moments from each other.

“All good, kiddo?” I asked as I cut the engine.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Grant replied in a tight voice, the tension rolling off him. “Mom would never call me that. I wish she were here with us.”

I swallowed down the acid in my throat. It was always this way with Grant. Either I said the wrong thing, or he complained I was overprotective. He wasn’t wrong, but I still couldn’t win where he was concerned. And I certainly didn’t want to make a scene in front of family.

“Me too,” I confessed in a softened tone. No truer words could be spoken. “Remember how she loved Aunt Jane’s oatmeal-raisin cookies?”

“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth lifted, the taut set of his shoulders easing. At least it wasn’t a memory that stabbed us in the gut. “She always made an extra batch for Mom to take home.”