“Those two are the spitting image of their father,” my mom’s voice says behind us.
There’s a moment of silence.
“It’s a little eerie sometimes,” she admits. “Last year when Eli was staying here, I walked into the kitchen one night and nearly had a heart attack, because for a moment I thought your father was standing there, raiding the fridge. Had me believing in ghosts.”
I wonder what it means that I think the opposite. That every so often, I walk by these photos and wonder why Eli’s wearing a police uniform, only to remember the truth half a second later.
“Seth sounds exactly like him, too,” I say. “It really weirds me out sometimes. I’m always afraid he’s about to get the belt.”
My mom sighs.
“That only happened once,” she admonishes me. “He felt so bad about it afterward that he burned the thing and never laid a hand on any of you again.”
“What did you do?” Charlie asks.
We’re all quiet for another moment.
“Daniel,” my mom says pointedly.
“I sneaked into the school and put glue in all the classroom locks,” I say. “No one could open their doors. They had to cancel school that day.”
“Eight years old,” my mom says. “It’s a wonder I survived the five of you all the way to adulthood.”
“Sounds like more of a wonder that we survived,” I say, and my mom laughs.
“I had my moments,” she admits. “But now you’re all grown and I’m free to drink whiskey, travel the world, and spoil my granddaughter.”
She holds out one hand to Charlie.
“Can I see the ring?” she asks.
“Of course,” Charlie says, and starts to tug it off.
“No, no, keep it on, it’s yours,” my mom says, taking Charlie’s hand gently. “I wanted to see how it looked on you. Did Daniel tell you that my grandfather had it made for my grandmother?”
Charlie flicks me a glance.
“He did?” she asks.
“He sure did,” my mom says. “My granddad Lowell gave it to my grandmother when they got engaged in 1930. I don’t know where he got the stone, but he had it made by a jewelry maker in Richmond.”
She twists it slightly on Charlie’s finger, the garnet still fiery.
“He went all that way on horseback,” she goes on. “He owned a car, but it was apparently in the Sheriff’s possession at the time. Took him a week to get there, a week to get it made, and a week to get back. She wore it every single day for the rest of her life. After she died his father—" she nods at me, “proposed to me with it, and now it’s your turn. I always thought it might look nice on you.”
Charlie’s eyes go wide, and she glances at me again, past my mom’s head, bent slightly over the ring.
“Thank you,” she says softly, after a beat. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m just glad someone’s wearing it,” my mom says. “It wasn’t doing anybody any good sitting in my jewelry box for all those years. Welcome to the family, Charlie. Officially, anyway.”
She pulls Charlie in for a hug, and a moment later, I get one too. Then my mom reaches up and tousles my hair.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on in the kitchen,” she says. “Apparently there’s been some to-do about ice cream.”
With that, my mom leaves us alone together with the pictures and each other.The to-do about ice cream is that Levi made some from the wild black raspberries he found growing along a creek, not far from his cabin. Eli tries to tell him that they’re just blackberries, not black raspberries, but he picked an argument with the wrong person because Levi shuts it down almost instantly.
My mom apologizes that she didn’t have time to make some pies, since this was on such short notice — she throws me a look when she says that and I ignore it — but promises that she’ll do celebratory baking soon.
There’s a final round of congratulations. I tell Rusty to go brush her teeth and put on pajamas while I walk Charlie to her car. Charlie waves as she steps outside, beaming, the ring on her left hand and her right weighed down with leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
And then, suddenly, it’s quiet. The house isn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, but it’s surrounded by the thick Virginia forest, and there are no other buildings in sight. There are no other visible lights, so even though we’re only fifteen minutes from town, it feels like we could drive for hours and never see civilization.
“I shouldn’t have taken the ring,” Charlie says, our feet crunching along the gravel. “I already feel awful.”
She holds up her left hand. The garnet flares, even in the pale moonlight. Without thinking, I alight my hand on her lower back. Charlie looks up at me.
“I don’t think anyone’s watching right now,” she says, her voice low and melodic. I swear her eyes reflect the stars above.