Chapter 24: The Third of March

On the third of March I woke up in a bed with a window.

No one in the house expected me to apologize for anything.

Levi's arm lay across my waist.

Sun came through the curtain and landed on the long pale scar I knew by heart now.

"Happy birthday," he said, into my shoulder.

"The real one."

"Margaret had every paper corrected in January."

"She had a lawyer do it."

"She had four lawyers do it."

I turned over.

He was awake, with his hair a mess and nothing guarded in his face.

"May I?" he said, and nodded at my mouth.

"You're asking again."

"I'll ask for as long as it makes you smile like that."

"Then yes."

He kissed me slowly, with his hand sliding up my ribs.

I pulled him down against me, and he was already hard against my thigh.

Then a clock somewhere in the house struck eight, and we both swore at it.

"The cemetery," I said, laughing against his jaw.

"The cemetery first," said Levi. "Then me, tonight, for the rest of the evening. I have it in writing."

"From whom?"

"You. Last night."

I threw a pillow at him. It hit the pink blazer on the chair, and it fell off.

Eastlawn was green again at the edges.

Dad was already on the hill when we came up, in his plain work jacket, with a bunch of yellow daisies tied with string.

Bree stood next to him.

She had come to Margaret's table every second Sunday since the unveiling.

Margaret hadn't said much to her yet, and Bree hadn't asked her to.

She kept coming anyway, and every time, she washed the dishes.

"Hi, Cora," she said.

"Hi."

"I brought nothing."

"I know. Margaret told me."

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