When not immersed in the writing/publishing world, Bernadette Marie and her husband are shuffling their five hockey playing boys around town to practices and games as well as running their family business. She is a lover of a good stout craft beer and might be slightly addicted to chocolate.
Joy bubbled in her chest as she leaned out over the railing.
“What are you doing? I thought you were at a funeral.”
He looked up at her and wiped the back of his hand over his brow. “Funerals are depressing. Especially that one. I gave my condolences and left as quickly as I could.”
“And now what are you doing?”
“Well, come see,” he said and flashed her a smile that radiated up to her.
Grace hurried down the steps toward Matthew.
“Grandma wanted you to have a rosebush too.” He held out his hand as if to show her the bush. “Now you have your very own Nora Campbell roses.”
She felt the tears sting her eyes, and her words jumbled in her throat. For a moment she could only stand and admire the beauty that had been planted in her yard.
“I am truly honored.”
“You should be. She thinks the world of you.”
That made her giggle. “How do you know that?”
“Because my grandmother was a good judge of character. She chose people to be in her life only if they would matter throughout it. Grace, she chose you in death, and that’s a lot longer than life.”
Grace pressed her hand to her chest. “Matthew, that was very sweet.”