Reminders of Him

You’re forgiven, Kenna.

---

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
LEDGER
She fits. It’s surreal and, to be honest, a little overwhelming. We just
finished eating dinner, but we’re all still sitting at the table. Diem is curled
up in my lap, and I’m sitting next to Kenna.
She seemed nervous when we first sat down to dinner, but she’s eased
up a lot. Especially after Patrick started telling stories, giving Kenna a
highlight reel of Diem’s life. He’s telling her the story of when Diem broke
her arm six months ago.
“She spent the first two weeks thinking she had to wear the cast
forever. None of us thought to tell her that breaks heal, and Diem assumed
when a person broke a bone, it stayed broken for good.”
“Oh, no,” Kenna says, laughing. She looks down at Diem and runs a
soothing hand over her head. “You poor thing.”
Diem reaches a hand toward Kenna, and she accepts it. Diem
effortlessly slips off my lap and onto Kenna’s. It happens so fast and
quietly. Diem tucks herself into Kenna, and Kenna wraps her arms around
Diem like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We’re all staring at them, but Kenna doesn’t notice because her cheek
is pressed against the top of Diem’s head. I swear I’m about to lose it right
here at the table. I clear my throat and push my chair back.
I don’t even excuse myself because I feel like my voice will crack if I
try to speak, so I silently leave the table and walk out back.
I want to give the four of them privacy. I’ve been somewhat of a
buffer for all of them today, but I want them to interact without me there. I
want Kenna to feel comfortable with them and not have to lean on me for
that comfort, because it’s important she have a relationship with them
outside of me.

---

I could tell Patrick and Grace were pleasantly surprised at how
different she is from what we all expected her to be.
It proves that time, distance, and devastation allow people enough
opportunity to craft villains out of people they don’t even know. But Kenna
was never a villain. She was a victim. We all were.
The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s getting close to eight, and that’s Diem’s
bedtime. I’m sure Kenna is nowhere near ready to leave, but I’m looking
forward to the aftermath of today. I want to get her alone and be near her
while she processes what I’m sure has been the best day of her life.
The back door opens, and Patrick walks onto the porch. He doesn’t sit
down in a chair. He leans against one of the pillars and stares out over the
backyard.
When I left him and Grace alone with the letter last night, I was
expecting some sort of immediate reaction. I wasn’t sure what it would be,
but I thought I’d get something. A text, a phone call, a knock at my front
door.
I got nothing.
Two hours after I left them, I finally worked up the courage to look out
my window at their house, and all their lights were out.
I’ve never felt as hopeless as I felt in that moment. I thought my
efforts had failed, but this morning, after an entire night of insomnia, I
heard a knock at my door.
When I opened it, Grace was standing there without Diem or Patrick.
Her eyes were puffy like she’d been crying. “I want to meet Kenna.” That’s
all she said.
We got in my truck, and I took her to Kenna’s apartment not knowing
what to expect, or if she was going to accept Kenna or reject Kenna. When
we arrived at Kenna’s place, Grace turned to me before exiting my truck,
and she said, “Are you in love with her?”
There was absolutely no hesitation when I nodded.
“Why?”
There was no hesitation after that question either. “You’ll see. She
makes it a hell of a lot easier to love her than hate her.”
Grace sat in silence for a moment before finally getting out of my
truck. She seemed almost as nervous as I was. We walked upstairs together,
and she told me she wanted some time alone with Kenna. As hard as it was

---

not knowing what was being said between them inside that apartment, it
isn’t nearly as hard as not knowing what Patrick thinks about all this.
We haven’t had a chance to talk about it at all. I’m guessing that’s why
he’s out here.
My hope is that he and Grace are on the same page, but they might not
be. He might only be accepting Kenna because Grace needs him to.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him.
Patrick scratches his jaw, mulling over my question. He answers
without looking directly at me. “If you would have asked me that question
when you and Kenna arrived a few hours ago, I would have told you I’m
still pissed at you. And that I’m not sorry for hitting you.” He pauses and
sits down on the top porch step. He clasps his hands together between his
knees and looks over at me. “But that changed when I saw you with her.
When I saw the way you looked at her. The way your eyes teared up when
Diem crawled onto her lap at the dinner table.” Patrick shakes his head.
“I’ve known you since you were Diem’s age, Ledger. Not one time in all
the years I’ve known you have you ever given me a single reason to doubt
you. If you’re telling me Kenna is worthy of Diem, then I believe you. The