I stared at the grave marker for some time, allowing the small details to penetrate my sponge like brain. But no matter how long I stood there, there just wasn’t any peace. Acceptance was further out than I had hoped and my grip on composure was slipping.
Some distance ahead I overheard the roar of a mower and in the opposite direction, a motor. Someone coming to visit another site even though who they came to see was no longer there.
“Cecelia,” Caleb called when he finally spotted me but I remained rooted. “Where in the world are…” I heard his breath cease in his throat. “You lived here?” He finally whispers.
“No,” I answered. “I lived in Boston. It’s here in this spit of land”-I gestured to the surrounding area-“that Cecelia Rose Jacobs died.”
His brow furrowed. “Olivia is a Jacobs.”
With a light sigh, I broke eye contact with him, turning back to my grave marker. It’s faded with time, the weight of the weather finally taking its toll. “I know.”
Gripping my shoulder, he whipped me around. “Don’t insult my intelligence, C. You know much more then you’re letting on.”
Caleb was right. Of course he was. This entire time I’d been lying to him by omission. “Jacobs is a fairly common last name,” I started but then sighed. “Spencer Jacobs is my younger brother. I couldn’t ignore the resemblance in Olivia and everything became clear at your funeral.”
“That makes you the sister they never talk about then. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
We were running out of time. If Caleb had any chance of regaining his life we had to move quickly and patch things up later. Pointing to the sky, I seize his arm and tug him in my direction. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”