"You need to mean it. " She shook her head. "No. "
"Im right here with you. "
"You think that makes a difference?" She laughed; it was a sharp, almost hysterical sound. "Yeah. "
His answer was so quiet, so genuine, that Mariah almost believed him. For a moment, a giddy, suspended moment, she wondered what if.
"Talk to him, Mariah," Mad Dog urged, squeezing her hand. "Say the things you left unsaid. "
She swallowed hard and reluctantly turned back to the mound of jet black dirt against the shadowy grass. A headstone glimmered in the moonlight, its words emblazoned in her mind. Here lies the body of Erasmus Throckmorton. Husband, father, hero.
She hadnt known what to say about him. What did you say about a man whod walked this earth for seventy-four years and never harmed a soul? A man who believed in God, and miracles, and second chances.
What did you say about your father when he was gone? So many years, so many memories . . . so little space on a cold slab of granite.
"He loved you, Mariah. "
Her head felt suddenly heavy. She nodded. "He was my life," she said quietly.
"He wouldnt want you to give up living for him. " A small, bittersweet smile pulled at her lips, then slid, quivering into a frown. "How did you get to know him so well?"
"He was an easy man to know. " This time her watery smile stayed a heartbeat Ion before melting downward. "Yes, he was. "
"Talk to him," he said again. "Say good-bye. "
"Thats dumb. "
"So what, youre drunk. "
She almost laughed. Then, slowly, she lifted her heavy head and stared at the blank rectangle where no grass yet grew. Just looking at it made her feel sick and queasy.
Her hands started to shake, her mouth curved downward. But she wanted to say good-bye to him, ached to do it. She wanted to say all the things shed meant to say to him when he was alive, but somehow never had.
"I feel stupid," she said.
"Dont. "
She licked her lips, and tried to look away, tried to ignore Mad Dogs seductive words. But her gaze kept coming back to Rasss cold, dark grave.
Sweet God, she missed him. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many things she should have already said. Daddy . . . Im so sorry about the way I shut you out of my life. I thought. . . 7 dont know what I thought. I guess I believed we had forever. The formless, desperate words swirled through her head, brought back a million painful memories.
Tears seared her eyes, turned the grave into a wavering smear. A lump of emotion swelled in her throat. / wish Id told you how much I loved you . . . . and not just when you were dying. I should have told you a long time ago . . . after Stephen and Thomas. After Mama.
Mama. The word cut through her like a knife, bringing a steel-sharp stab of pain. A single tear slid down her cheek and splashed on the hand curled in her lap.
Oh, God, I miss you both so much. . . .
She made a choking, gasping sound and started to cry. "Oh, God . . . "
Mad Dog curled his arms around her, held her tightly. Her body spasmed. Hot tears ran in rivulets down her cheeks and dampened his shirt. The salty, poignant smell of them filled her senses and made her cry even harder.
He stroked her tangled hair and the moist sides of her face. "Its okay. " He murmured the soothing words over and over again, calming her. "I miss them so much, Matt. " She cried and cried and cried, until her throat was parched and dry and a headache pounded behind her eyes. She cried for her parents, for her lost youth, for her baby. For all the things shed never cried for before. She smelled lavender.
Gasping, she jerked her head up. Overhead, the stars seemed to be shifting, merging into a huge, white-hot ball in the center of the sky.
"The stars are moving," she said, sniffling hard and wiping her eyes.
"Hallucinations. Its the second stage of tequila. " Mad Dog dabbed the moisture from her cheek. "Itll go away. "