Manners won. “I should let you get to work and get back to my own work. I appreciate lunch. It was wonderful.” She started toward the door, and he and Scooter followed.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
Macy paused in the open door, remembering that he’d driven. Then she glanced at the blue sky, the soft white clouds, the leaves rustling in the breeze. “I’d rather walk.” She liked walking and took Clary for a ramble through their Charleston neighborhood every day. But in all the years she’d lived here, she’d never walked down her own street because while gardening was an acceptable pursuit for Mark Howard’s wife, exercise where anyone could see wasn’t.
“We’ll walk with you,” Stephen offered.
She wouldn’t mind his company a little longer, but she shook her head. “That’s okay.” By herself, she could set her own pace. If she wanted to stop and stare at the woods, she could. If she wanted to stroll aimlessly and listen to the birds in the trees, no one would be inconvenienced.
If she wanted to delay reaching the house and going inside as long as she could, no one would know.
The two males stood at the top of the steps as she made her way to the sidewalk, across the lawn and out the gate. She turned back for a smile and a wave, then headed south.
Her pace was steady, not the slow-and-go method Clary preferred. Her daughter could skip energetically for an entire block, then stop to examine everything from a crack in the sidewalk to a fallen leaf to an ant crawling over a blade of grass. Just the thought of her, squatting precariously to study some new discovery like a dandelion or a pinecone with such intensity, made Macy’s heart ache with equal intensity. Today was Wednesday. Clary, Brent and Anne would be here in time for dinner Friday. Only two and a half more days and she’d have her little girl at her side.
Only two and a half more days alone in the house looming ahead. She could already feel its weight—its memories of Mark—settling on her shoulders. Her steps were already slowing. But following the advice from all those months of treatment, she forced herself to keep moving, one step at a time.
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