Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a cemetery.
Daniel stared at me.
“What are we doing here?”
“Where is Rebecca buried?”
His face changed.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
That was precisely why I wanted to.
He gave Nora directions.
Rebecca’s grave was beneath an oak tree.
The headstone was simpler than I expected.
REBECCA ANNE MERCER
1977–2001
BELOVED DAUGHTER, SISTER, FRIEND
Only twenty-four years.
I stared at the dates.
Daniel stood several feet away.
“You can come closer,” I said.
He did.
“What was she like?”
He smiled faintly.
“Annoying.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
“That’s your first description?”
“She’d appreciate it.”
He crouched beside the headstone.
“She stole my CDs. Read the endings of books first. Cheated at Monopoly.”
“Anything good?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
He smiled again.
Then his face softened.
“She was fearless about little things and terrified about important things.”
“Like what?”
