Page 45 of The Last Thing You Said

“Sure,” I say, not at all sure. The first question that comes to mind is—which side of the family, John’s or Tami’s? If it’s John’s nephew, the cousin I met on vacation last year, then Ben and his parents will be there.

“We’ll go up Friday morning and come home Sunday.” She prattles on about the hotel and the church and the rehearsal but never once says who’s getting married. After a few minutes, I put up my hand to stop her.

“Whose wedding?” I ask.

“Aaron. You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

Ben’s cousin. I nod.

Tami is talking nonstop. “This will be a nice little getaway for you, and you won’t have to take care of Emily the whole time. You’ll have some free time, too. Our hotel is right on the harbor. We’re getting two rooms so you and Emily would have a room to yourselves. A suite, actually, so after she goes to sleep you can stay up and watch a movie or something.”

I nod. I’m their nanny. Of course they expect I’ll go away for the weekend with them. And I love Duluth, I love Lake Superior.

“I’m so glad you’ll come with us. This is just what you need, a little time away. And maybe—maybe if you and Ben get some time together—”

“What?” The air is suddenly stifling. What is she saying? Did she invite me along to try to patch things up between Ben and me?

Tami has this terrible, pitying look on her face. “Oh, Lucy, I know how hard it’s been since Trixie died. My heart breaks for you. You lost your best friend. And Ben—well, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I know that you aren’t friends anymore. And maybe—maybe if you had a chance to talk about it away from here—”

“No,” I say. “Please, stop.”

“Lucy—”

I can’t talk to her about this anymore. “Emily’s waiting for me in the tree house. I have to go.” I open the sliding door and step out onto the deck, down the stairs, across the yard to the old oak tree.

I climb up and sit on the worn floorboards of the tree house, my back against the plywood wall, while Emily plays tea party, and I catch my breath. I think about the trip to Duluth with Trixie’s family last summer, one of the best weekends of my life.

At the cabin, Trixie and I skipped stones on the lake while Ben sifted through the rocky beach.

“Agates are quartz, you know,” Ben said. “And they’re pretty unique here because of the iron in the soil. The oxidation of the iron gives them that reddish-orange color. You want to help me look?”

I glanced at Trixie. She was smiling. “Sure,” I said.

“Did you know that the Lake Superior agate is Minnesota’s state gemstone?” Ben asked. “The agates were formed about a billion years ago. From lava eruptions. No, really, a billion years ago.”

I nodded and smiled as he told me about glacial movement and why Lake Superior agates can be found in other regions of the state, thrilled that he was talking to me about something he loved.

Later that weekend, we stopped at a lapidary shop in Beaver Bay filled with bin after bin of agates and other rocks. Ben must have spent an hour poring over each and every one, examining, humming to himself. After a while, Trixie and I got tired of waiting for him and left to buy ice cream cones from the diner next door.

We sat on the bench outside the agate shop, licking the dripping ice cream from the sides of our waffle cones.

“Rocks are boring,” Trixie said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The agates are pretty.”

“You’re only saying that because you like Ben,” she whispered, and gave me a knowing smile over her ice cream.

When Ben finally came out of the shop, he asked, “Where’s mine?” Then he pointed at me. “Maple nut, right?”

I popped the last bit of waffle cone in my mouth and nodded.

“Finally!” Trixie said. “What took so long?”

Ben smiled. “I couldn’t leave until I found what I was looking for.”

Trixie rolled her eyes.

He looked at me and pointed to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got ice cream on your face, Lu.” He turned to walk to the van.