Page 1

chapter one

one day at a time

august 2nd, 2024

What do you say to remember the man who raisedyou, in front of a church full of people, when that man is lying in a coffin about two feet away from you?

It’s a tricky one, isn’t it?

Ultimately it’s not as tricky as planning the funeralall by yourself because your Aunt Sandrine never really liked your Dad because of her ‘how disgraceful to choose a man with a mere four acreage of land’ mindset, but still, this part sure wasn’t easy.

I promised myself I’d write something in the weeksleading up to today. I made a vow to not leave my dorm until I had a speech that summed up my dad in a way that made it feel like he wasn’t dead.

My eyes fell back to the empty sheet of paper in front of me.

Not one word, Aurora? Not even a sentence? Shame on you.

Craning my head up slightly, I met the stares of the crowd, made up of thepopulation of Honeywood, the town where I grew up and hadn’t stepped foot in since the last time I was in this church.

But instead of my dad being buried, it was my mom.

“Aurora, sweetheart. Do you need a minute?”

I look back over my shoulder, finding Pastor Robin, my eyes vacant against herwarm blue stare.

Do I need a minute? I needed another lifetime.

I needed a moment just to take in the fact that I was back here, in the town whereI’d learnt everything. After we sold up the cottage by the lake and moved to New York in the months after mom died, I thought that was the last I’d see of this town. And I was happy about it, in the beginning. The mountains, the morning air and the frost nipping at the edges of the lake reminded me too much of mom to ever be happy there.

I never had a chance to thank my dad for choosing New York. Not only was iton the opposite end of the country, with too many states to name seperating us from the grief we were running from, but I had built such a beautiful reality for myself in New York that imagining what life we would have turned out like if we stayed here hurt too much.

“Aurora?”

Pastor Robin’s sweet voice lifted me from my thoughts, and I brought my eyesback into focus to meet her stare.

“I’m fine.” I lied, before passing her the most unconvincing smile .

I was surprised my trembling breaths weren’t echoing off every ornate surface inthe place, confirming to the pews bursting with townsfolk that I was as devastated, and wrecked, as they probably assumed I was.As the dark circles shadowing my eyes gave away for me.

Trembling, my hands rose to grip the podium, steadying my body, easing thepressure I’d felt for months, the one that felt like chain mail armour welded to my shoulders.

Squeezing my aching eyes closed, I called on everything I hadn’t had thestrength to write.“My…”

I practically sank into the chorus of sighs that came from the crowd, as thoughit was a giant set of open arms, beckoning me in.

I tried again, this time zeroing in on a section of the stained glass window onthe back wall of the church. “My dad loved this town.” The breath I stole was quiet. Needed. “If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now. But, e-even after all the heartache, after e-everything that… happened with my… mom.” The sighs echoed again. “He loved his life here. He loved who he left here. And I understand w-why he wanted this to be his… his… ”

Final resting place.

Next to the love of his life.

The crowd knew what I meant. I didn’t have to say it. I wouldn’t have thoughtthey wanted me to say it. Not when I was certain that they could see the tear that had slipped from my lash line, shining on my blotchy cheeks.

I didn’t know whether I was crying about the fact that my dad had asked to beburied back here, with Mom, or whether the fact that he was lying in a coffin only a few feet away from me was only now registering in my head.

I forced my eyes closed again, reminding myself what I was supposed to bedoing.

Supposed to be.

There was no obligation for me to do this. I knew I could have said no whenPastor Robin pulled me aside and asked if I was planning on saying anything. I knew I could have sat in the front row and listened to the eulogy that she’d written, headed to the graveyard to watch him be lowered, said my hello’s and ran back to New York.

But no matter how much it hurt to be up here, no matter how much my heart wasbreaking all over again, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.

I tried to breathe again, my lungs filling completely this time.

“My dad was the best man I’ll probably ever havethe pleasure of knowing. He was the dad that little girls dream of having. He was funny and sensitive, and kind.” An innocent smile graced my lips, almost unconsciously, reality seeming to fade. “He was the man who taught me to ride a bike. He was the man who would make it his sole mission to push my face into my birthday cake every single year. And I’d do the same with him. I also have him to thank for my ears, although I’m still not sure if I’ll ever grow into them like he always promised." That got a chuckle from the crowd, and it was like I had energy coursing through me for the first time since I got the call to say he'd died. “But for all of you, I suggest you pick your favourite of his hats and remember him that way.”

Cowboys hats, one for every day of the week, were all I could picture for a moment. And part of me wished for that moment to become a lifetime. Because as my head fell forward, my smile lifting like it was attached to strings and hewas somewhere controlling them; it tilted to the left, and my eyes regretfully caught a glimpse of his picture, resting on his coffin.

And suddenly the world felt dark again.

My breaths caught in the back of my throat, as I choked out, “I’m pretty surethere wasn’t a thing on this earth that he wouldn’t do to see me happy.”

And that sentiment was a two-way street. Which was probably why, in the back of my mind, I was wondering what I wassupposed to be doing with my life now.

After Mom died, I made a promise to myself that I’d do anything to see my dad smileagain. The way he did when she was here. At first, it was little things; keeping up my grades, doing every after-school activity where I had the chance to win a trophy that he could proudly display. Those types of things. But as I got older, and I only saw those cracks deepening, rather than healing, I decided to tell him that I wanted to study law and become a lawyer like him.

That day was probably the first time since Mom died that I saw his real smile.And if I had been telling him the truth, then maybe my smile would have mirroredhis.

I blinked; the crowd's attention suddenly too much.

I stumbled back a little. “Uh… thank you.” I managed. “I wasn’t sure what th-the… turnout would be like.” I scanned the crowd again—the blurry faces from my past, the people who’d watched me grow up, clearing in my head. “So thank you. It’s lovely to see how loved he was, even after…”

After we left.

As though the weight of the moment settledback on me, the pressure hardening, I managed to lift the corners of my mouth slightly. “Thank you.”

The chorus of applause serenaded me as I walkedon wobbly legs back to my pew, claiming the stiff seat next to my Aunt Sandrine. The thought that she was the only blood family left occupied my mind for the rest of the service, only being forced back into reality when she tapped me on the shoulder and nodded towards the curtain surrounding his coffin, closing at a glacial pace to his favourite song.

And if I had the energy, if I was alone, I would havesobbed at the top of my lungs.

“Oh, Aurora, you did such a good job, little sprout.” Miss Patty, the sweet oldlady who owned the florist's from where my dad would always buy mom a bunch from at the start of every week, sighed as she wrapped her tiny arms around me.

She still smelt like peonies. And that shouldn’t seem odd considering she wasaround them all day, but it was always peonies, even when Dad sold her out of roses one anniversary.

I sank into her hold, as people poured from the church doors, trying to think ofthe last time I saw her. “Thank you, Patty. I’ve missed you.” I sighed, pulling away from her and gripping her warm hands. “How’s the shop?”

She smiled up at me, her glassy blue eyes glistening in the last of the summersun. “It’s blooming, pun very much intended.” We both shared a giggle. “Are you staying in town long?”

I hadn’t planned to. I knew being back here for eventhe weekend I’d planned would be hard enough. So I shook my head. “No, I have to be back for college in a few days.”

Sympathy coated her stare. “Oh, well, I’m justhappy to see you, sprout.” She shook our hands which were still locked. “You can sleep easy knowing I’ll still take flowers to them every week.”

My eyes widened. “You still take her flowers?”

She nodded. “Every Monday, just like your father did.” Her smile rose. “I’ll besure to keep an eye on him now, too.”

I wrapped up my catch-up with Miss Patty there, feeling the swell of tears creepup on me, along with the memories I’d tried to convince myself I’d forgotten. But being back here? Taking in Main Street and the buildings I could draw from memory just reminded me of how much this town was home.

My place.

But that didn’t make it any easier to be here. Toeven think about staying here.

After swapping numbers with Miss Patty, I walked around to the front of the church, craving the shade for a moment.I stood in the shadows that the white spire cast on the street, catching all thebreaths I could before I had to deal with reality, had to think about what on earth I was going to do with myself now that the whole reason I was at Liberty Grove was dead.

The thoughts were a storm in my mind, a glimpse of what the fall monthswould look like. It wasn’t long before that shadow of guilt fell over me, darker than the one the spire cast. I slowly closed my eyes when I felt its wrath wrapping around my neck, draining me of every possible breath I could take.

My chest was constricted, as I threw my head back against the wall, tearswelling in my eyes and falling over the lines on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the air. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I strained my ears to wait for a response, but there never was one. Never would be one.

And I knew that. I knew I was apologising to something that probably didn’t exist. But that didn’t stop me from repeating it over in my head when my sobs clogged my throat, in the hopes that whoever was controlling my life would hear my pleas and maybe, hopefully, stop sending so much heartbreak my way.

Just for a while.

The august breeze hit my cheeks, drying them a little. The distant voices of thecongregation registered in my head once I was out of it, making me remember I couldn't hide here forever. To switch distractions I let my eyes settle on the row of shops that made upMain Street. I let the pastel stripes of the storefronts, and the mountain range that surrounded the valley, distract me, leaning into the vague memories they brought up.

But after one blurry reminder of Mom and Dad, Icalled it.

I smoothed out the front of my black dress, trying tothink of other ways to prolong the quiet, then, as though someone had heard my cries and sent me exactly what I hadn't asked for, I spun round and saw him.

Dark green eyes. A billion and one freckles on his nose. Warm blonde hair catching in the breeze, long enough that it cascaded over his forhead. Broad shoulds. A stance as sturdy as the mountains. Shadows of the dimples that made me catch my breath just thinking about them.

I'd know Finn Rhodes anywhere. In every lifetime.

But that didn't mean I couldn't hear my heart cracking in the places he'd broken it as I locked my eyes with his.

I blinked.

No. No, it couldn’t be.

It was spooky how, at the same time I found him, or what I thought was him,his head lifted, like something was whispering in his ear that I was over here.It was even spookier that the only second I felt calm today was when his eyes fell on me, when his attention was mine and it was like the entire town had vanished, and all that existed was us, on opposite sides of the street.

I would have convinced myself that the apparitionwas down to me not having nearly enough sleep, but then I saw him shuffle. I saw the muscles in his arms move as his hair swayed in the breeze. He looked to the left, and the right, but before he could even commit to crossing the street, I spun on my tiny black heels, walking back into the sunlight with my arms wrapped around my waist.

I’d rather face this reality than the one where FinnRhodes existed, even if, in both, my heart was broken.