Lizzie couldn't persuade the man, growing both frantic and furious. Eventually, she let go, her voice tinged with shame and annoyance.
"Suit yourself! Kneel if you want, get soaked if you want, I don't care anymore!"
With those harsh words, she turned around, forcing herself to stride down the hill.
A gust of night wind blew past, followed by the distant rumble of thunder.
Lizzie wrapped her arms around herself, turning back to glance at him.
The man stood unmoving, his posture straight and dignified, not at all disheveled. It was as if he was standing in solemn vigil, ready to transform into another headstone to protect his child. Feeling uneasy, Lizzie bit her lip and averted her gaze, descending the steps.
She thought to herself that Remington wasn't foolish. Once she was gone, without anyone watching over him, he'd eventually get up and leave before the rain started pouring down.
At that moment, Remington glanced back at her retreating figure, his brow furrowing slightly. Watching her disappear, he turned back to the headstone adorned with Daisy's photograph. "Your mom was scared of the dark and ghosts, I wonder if she'd be scared now, being away."
He sighed, knowing once he'd spoken those words, he wouldn't rise to escort her down the hill.
Looking at Daisy again, his lips curved into a small smile.
again just now, you heard that, right? I knew she couldn't let go
buddy, it's really up to you
lit up half
Remington gently tapped the cheek of the
"Mischief-maker!"
Lizzie, with her head
was late, and
exit, she
caretaker she'd met earlier. He approached her,
rain soon. Why are you by yourself, Mrs. Dashiell?
but a different kind of worry
Jackson, pleading, "He's still up there, refusing to come down. Do you have an umbrella or a raincoat I
demeanor remained calm, as if it was not surprising to
course, follow me. I'll get one for
Grateful, Lizzie followed him.
sometimes staying very late. He personally takes care of the weeds around the young master's grave. Such devotion
with him?" Lizzie
do hold, and what
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