Would my mother be angry or hurt that I had damaged one of her most treasured possessions?
But then, completely unbidden, someone in the crowd began to laugh. Then another person joined in, and another, until the entire gathering was chuckling.
And suddenly, I was laughing too. The absurdity of it all—me, trying so hard to honor my mother’s memory, only to nearly set myself on fire in the process—struck me as hilarious rather than tragic.
My eyes met Isaac’s, and although he wasn’t laughing, I could see the humor dancing in those blue depths. For a moment, I thought he might say something, might finally break the strange distance that had been growing between us.
But then he stepped away without a word, disappearing back into the crowd as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t
