My Father's Best Friend Fixed My Roof, Then Never Left My Kitchen novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Stone

Carly's POV

The stone had come on Thursday, and on Saturday morning the first frost lay on the cemetery grass behind St. Cyril's.

It was gray granite, plain, set into the ground beside my mother's.

Her name was cut on the left and his on the right.

Under his, the stonecutter had cut the three words I'd picked on the phone.

I had picked them the last night of November, after Milan told me I would know them when I heard them.

HUSBAND. FATHER. FRIEND.

We stood at the foot of the grave in our coats.

The ground crunched under our boots, and our breath went up white.

Milan held his cap in both hands against his chest.

He had not said a word since the car.

I took my glove off and laid my bare hand flat on the top of the stone.

It was so cold it stung.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

My voice sounded odd, outdoors, in that big quiet.

"I'm home. I live in the house now. The roof is good. Milan did it, you know that, you told him to."

I heard Milan breathe out.

"I got a job in Kittanning, and I start after New Year's. They have a good chair. The doctor's decent and talks about boats."

I swallowed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there more. I'm still sorry. I think I'll be sorry a while."

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