Page 30 of What Remains of Grace

Jenna nodded slowly. “Then we’ll fix that.”

Grace and Manny had loved this girl with their whole hearts. They’d built their world around Emmie. Grace used to say that Emmie was the best thing she and Manny ever made together. And now all of that love, all that steady, ordinary magic, was gone before the girl was even grown.

Jenna felt it like a bruise every time she looked at her niece, this impossible weight for someone so young. Sixteen shouldn’t look like survival.

She thought of her own parents then, of the noisy kitchen table back home and how they’d shown up for every recital, every heartbreak, every foolish teenage plan. At thirty-four, she’d already lost two siblings, but at least she’d had her parents her whole life. Emmie never would. That truth hollowed her chest.

The car wasn’t just transportation; it was the smallest of substitutions for the world Grace and Manny would have given their daughter.

Emmie frowned. “Fix what?”

But Jenna was already writing a note in her planner: Arrange rental return. Call about used cars.

* * *

The next afternoon, the driveway filled with the sound of engines.

Two new-to-them Honda Civics rolled in behind the rental car, the newer one a sleek black model with a sport package, the other an older silver one with sun-faded paint. A pair of salesmen climbed out, handing Jenna a set of keys while taking the rental paperwork from her. Within minutes, they were gone. The driveway was suddenly quieter but heavy with the smell of warm asphalt and freshly cleaned interiors.

Emmie stood on the porch steps, blinking in disbelief. “What is this?”

Jenna smiled. “Problem solved.”

Emmie’s eyes darted between the two cars. “You bought two?”

Jenna nodded, tossing one set of keys in her hand.

Emmie grinned and started toward the silver one. “This is perfect!”

Jenna laughed, shaking her head. “That one’s mine.”

Emmie hit the key fob, and the black Civic chirped to life behind them.

She stopped mid-step. “Wait. That one?”

“That one,” Jenna confirmed. “Seems fair. I don’t have any teenage friends to impress, and I could use the exercise, so I’ll probably be on that bike anyway. You, on the other hand . . .”

She thought of the bike as she spoke, the one she’d picked up at Tarpon Tom’s Outdoor Adventure Gear a few days ago, after she swung by Renardo’s Family Produce across the street. She’d asked Tom to install a rack on the back, something sturdy enough to hold groceries. She liked riding it, the easy rhythm of pedaling through warm air, but it wasn’t practical for everything.

She’d thought of Brooks the day she bought it, how easily they’d slipped through town on two wheels, laughing down Pinellas Trail, sunburned and unbothered. They’d ridden those bikes for miles, from Tarpon all the way to St. Pete. Once, they’d made it thirty-six miles to Pass-a-Grille Beach and had to call home because they couldn’t move another inch. Their dad had been furious, yelling about recklessness while they sat in the backseat, legs like Jell-O, biting back laughter the whole ride home.

The memory hit like sunshine through old glass, warm, a little painful, but still good.

Emmie turned in a slow circle, looking at the black Civic, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely serious. Take it before I change my mind.”

Emmie let out a half-laugh, half-sob and threw her arms around Jenna. Then she ran for the driver’s seat, the door slamming shut as the engine purred to life. The sound echoed down the quiet street—a bright, living noise that made the house feel less like a memory. It felt like something shifted, small but real, in their relationship. Like she had finally burrowed a small hole in the wall that Emmie had been building.

This. This was what Grace had loved about being a mom. The surprises. The tiny moments when you caught the light changing in your child’s eyes and knew they understood they were seen. Grace had been so good at it, at the noticing. At the loving.

Jenna blinked against the sting in her throat. All Emmie had wanted was a car, but that wasn’t what Grace and Manny would’ve given her. They’d have given her the whole world: safety, sweetness, belonging. Jenna’s gift was just a shadow of that, a clumsy attempt to keep the love going.

She hoped it was enough for now.

Jenna stood on the porch, smiling as the car rolled toward the corner. For the first time, it didn’t feel like replacing what was lost. It felt like beginning again.

* * *