Asher (Ashes & Embers 6)

“I understand,” she says. “Tor and I love the crib and the baby monitors you and Dad gave us. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Before I go back to reading more of the journals, I need to know something. “Were you happy as a little girl? You had such young parents, and I just can’t imagine that for anyone. Were you treated well and taken care of?”

“Wow, no one’s ever asked me that before.”

“I didn’t mean it to be rude—”

“No, it’s not rude at all. I can understand why you’d ask. Two teenagers raising a baby isn’t exactly an ideal situation. I’m totally nervous about having my baby and wanting to be a great mom to her. There’s no way I could be ready for this as a fifteen-year-old in high school. It blows my mind that you and Dad did it.”

I hum in agreement.

“But,” she continues. “I think you and Dad were terrific parents. Gram and great-Gram helped a lot. They were always trying to spoil me, but you and Dad tried to curb that. I remember you guys took me everywhere with you. You didn’t take me to school with you, thank God, but you took me to all your band practices, then to most of your concerts. I loved the tour bus when I was young. Everyone helped take care of me. You never really treated me like a baby or a little kid, though. You always talked to me and treated me like I was a miniature friend, I guess.” She lets out her lighthearted, feminine laugh.

I sigh with relief. “That makes me feel better.”

“You never did anything irresponsible like forget me at a mall or put me in a car without a car seat, if that’s what you’re worried about. You taught me how to read and to be nice and polite. Dad would sing to me all the time and play learning games with me. I think I was lucky. I felt very loved and taken care of. Always.”

Tucking my legs under me, I pull the soft throw blanket over my lap. “I’m glad. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

“It was hard when you were gone, though. I missed you. I was only fourteen, so I think it was just a hard time to not have my mom. Daddy became very withdrawn. He was still a great father, but I could tell he wasn’t happy anymore. That was hard for me because you and Dad were always laughing and hugging and kissing each other. Our house used to be such a happy place, and then suddenly it was just so quiet. If that makes sense?”

“Yes. It does.” The quiet is something I can definitely understand.

“I’m ashamed to say I didn’t visit the hospital. I didn’t like seeing you that way. I didn’t really visit much until I was like eighteen or nineteen. Then I’d sit by your bed and talk to you about my life and stuff.”

“I don’t think you should’ve been there. That’s no place for a young girl to be.”

“I still struggle thinking about it. I wish I had gone more.”

The accident was like a bolt of lightning. It struck me first, but then branched out, searing everyone close to me with its electric shocks.

“I’m really glad you called me,” she says. “Anytime you want to talk, or ask questions, I’m here. We can talk on the phone, or I can come over there. I want to help you if I can.”

“Thank you. Today after reading the journal, I felt like I had to tell you that I’m here for you too. No matter what.”

Don’t worry, Ember. I’ll try to keep some of your promises. It’s the least I can do.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A few years ago, my cousin, Lukas, gave me a three-foot-high metal-and-bone hourglass that’s perched on a marble stand in our foyer. He told me the bones were from an ancient warrior who died protecting his family. It’s filled with sand and pulverized diamonds and supposedly takes exactly twenty-four hours to trickle down. I’ve never tested it to see if that’s true because I wanted to trust that time ticks by as it’s supposed to. It doesn’t change.

But it seems sometimes, like the sand sitting in the bottom of my hourglass, time actually does stand still and waits until something or someone comes along and makes it move.

So much has happened, and not happened, in the past two months.

My beautiful granddaughter, Tia Nevaeh Grace, came into the world with eyes and a smile that could effortlessly persuade me to sell my soul.

I wrote twenty new songs.

Ember gained enough strength to ditch her cane.

But she’s still staying in the guest room, and no new memories have surfaced.

Our therapist tells us to give it time. Give us time. Be patient, let things happen. I’ve heard it all a hundred times.