In the Light of the Garden by Burch Heather

Author:Burch, Heather [Burch, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781503941144
Goodreads: 30848544
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2017-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

“So, I used your laptop and Googled weeping willow legends, and I found nothing about trimming the branches and someone dying,” Daisy said and popped a potato chip into her mouth.

They’d just cleaned up from breakfast, and already Daisy was dipping into the potato chip bag. Teenagers.

Charity scrubbed the sink with a scouring pad.

“I searched everywhere.” Daisy crunched another chip. “I’m talking a lengthy search.”

Charity sighed. Last night at dinner, the whole story had unfolded for Uncle Harold and Daisy while they all ate steak and potatoes. It was a relief to know the details were finally out in the open. Like when you’re a child, and you’re terrified of lizards until someone hands you one, and you realize it has no power to hurt you.

But she’d tired of the constant inquisition from Daisy and had sent her on an errand right after breakfast to gather all the hurricane preparedness items she could find throughout the house. Hurricane Erika—which had been Tropical Storm Erika until yesterday—was headed their direction.

“So, who told you the legend?” Daisy was relentless in her quest. “Are you sure you didn’t make it up yourself?”

Charity spun from the sink to look at her. “Make it up?”

Daisy shrugged. “You were a kid, right? I’m just saying that I did an exhaustive search online and nada.”

Charity frowned.

Daisy reached into a box she’d carried down from the attic. A giant white candle was cradled in her hands. “Do we need these for the storm? There are several in here.”

Charity came around the counter and took it from her. “Is that Gram’s hurricane box?” She remembered her grandmother filling a large box with items for a storm. Lighters, candles, lanterns, iodine, a first aid kit.

“I guess so. So, where did you hear the willow tree legend about trimming the branches?”

Charity rifled through the hurricane box. “My mother. She’s the one who told me the legend.” She thought back. “No, wait. It was Kendrick. Yes, Kendrick—who lied to me on a daily basis, but my mother jumped right into the story with him, so I never doubted it.”

Daisy refastened the clip on the bag of potato chips. “Why would they do that?”

“Sometimes they were mean.” Charity went back to the sink of vegetables waiting to be chopped and arranged in a salad.

Daisy shook her head, sun-streaked hair flying around her shoulders. “Dude. That is messed up.”

“Gramps had called and told her that when I visited that year, they were going to have some chores for me. When she mentioned the willow to me, I undoubtedly turned white as a ghost because it was so huge and kind of scary-looking. The hoax must have started right then and there.” Did her mother even remember that Charity’s fear of the tree stemmed from a lie she had perpetuated? Probably not; sometimes lying was as easy for Ellen as breathing. White lies, she called them. But there was nothing white about a white lie. They were black as soot and empty as an unused grave.

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