by Susan Wiggs
Gradually, the heart attack subsided.
“Jeez,” he muttered, wiping his brow with a sleeve. How stupid was that, to be afraid of a car like it was something out of a Stephen King novel.
Chagrined, he told his uncle he was going over to a friend’s for a bit. To his relief, Sean seemed to understand he needed to get the hell out of the house for a while.
“I know what’ll get your mind off things,” Jason Schaefer said later that evening.
“A lobotomy?” Cameron had coasted to his friend’s house on his skateboard and was dribbling a basketball in Jason’s driveway. The Schaefers had heard the news, and Jason seemed kind of wary around him, like losing your parents off a cliff was somehow contagious. Jason seemed desperate to avoid all thought of the accident, like that could happen.
“Ha-ha,” Jason replied. “Mailbox baseball.”
Cameron kept dribbling the ball. “That’s lame.”
“It rocks. You’ll see. We can take the Jeep.” Jason already had his license and wanted any excuse to drive. “Let’s pick up some of the other guys and go to that new subdivision out on Ranger Road. There’s a whole row of them—pow!” He pantomimed the swinging of a bat.
Maybe he was right, thought Cameron. Maybe he needed to do some damage.
At 10:20 p.m., Lily fell apart. She was sitting on the bed of the guest room in Crystal’s house, listening to the silence. At her insistence, Sean was using Crystal’s room, which was too filled with reminders for Lily to face. It was quiet in there and no light showed under the door, and she envied him for sleeping. She had taken another shower and was wearing a borrowed terry-cloth robe with sleeves that were way too long. She felt warm and clean, and when she reached into the pocket of the robe, she found a crumpled Kleenex and a note scribbled with 503-555-2412. The number was surrounded by the little bubbles and swirls of Crystal’s doodling, and for a moment, just a split second, she thought about going downstairs and having a cup of tea with Crystal and handing her the slip of paper.
The finality of the loss hit her—no more cups of tea, no more long phone calls or shopping excursions. Nothing. Yesterday she’d had a best friend. Today, just like that, she didn’t.
A terrible howl of pain and grief welled up inside her. All day long, it had been building and swelling, clamoring to erupt. Around the children, she’d held in the consuming wildness of her grief through sheer force of will.
Now her control slipped away and she fell back on the bed, hugged a pillow against her face and let go. The sobs came like a great, unstoppable storm, lashing through her. Her anguished voice was muffled by the pillow, but in her head it sounded as loud as a scream.
Crystal was gone. The reality consumed Lily. Without warning and with irrevocable finality, her best friend, the sister of her heart, was gone. Lily wept for all the laughter and conversation they would never again share, for all the time they’d never have together. She wept for the children who would grow up without a mother and for the horrible injustice of their pain, which they’d done nothing to deserve. She wept until she felt emptied out, weak and raw and scraped hollow with a grief that seemed to have a peculiar energy of its own.
“Lily?” A small voice intruded.
She sat up, already scrubbing her face with her sleeve. Charlie stood in the doorway, looking uncertain and frightened as she clutched a stuffed toy in her hands. “I saw you crying.”
“Oh, Charlie,” Lily said. “I’m sad about your mom. I’ll be all right, but I needed to cry for a bit.”
“I woke up and started feeling sad all over again,” Charlie said. “I can’t sleep.”
Lily got up, feeling as though she’d run a marathon. “Come on, sweet thing. Let’s go eat some ice cream.”
“I’m not hungry. I’m not…anything.”
“Then how about I sit with you for a while.” She took the little girl by the hand, walked her back to her room. They stopped to check on Ashley in her crib, tucking a blanket around her. Then they sat together in the window seat, moving aside the stuffed toys and pulling back the curtain to reveal a misty moon. Lily brought Charlie against her, stroking her silky hair. “We have to whisper so we don’t wake Ashley.”
“She sleeps through anything,” Charlie said. She was silent for a few minutes, her small, spare body fitting itself against Lily’s. “I know how to figure out your porn-star name,” she said.
“Have you been talking to Russell Clark?”
“Yep.”
“Do you even know what a porn star is?”
“I asked Uncle Sean. He said it’s someone who uses a phony name made out of the name of your first pet and your street. At the school carnival last year I won a goldfish and named her Zippy, so mine’s Zippy Candlewood.”
“That’s very…clever.”
“So what’s yours, Lily?”
“I never had a pet.”
“Never? Not even a goldfish or a baby bird you rescued?”
“Not even a pet rock.” Lily’s parents had been adamant about pets. “They never outlive you,” her mother had reasoned. “They cost a fortune and then break your heart.”
Charlie shifted against her chest. “I wish I had a dog. Mom and Dad never let us have a dog even though I want one worse than anything.”
A pained silence spun out. Lily thought Charlie might have fallen back to sleep, but then she stirred again. “Lily?” she asked in a small voice.
“Mmm?”
“I’m afraid.”
“I know, sweetie. But you’re safe.”
“Not like that.” She shifted back to gaze up at Lily. In the shadowy light, her eyes looked enormous. “I’m afraid…I think I made them mad. I think they were mad at me because I’m so dumb in school and because I stole stuff. Maybe that’s why they—”
“Oh, my God.” Lily didn’t let her finish. She cupped Charlie’s face between her hands. “That is absolutely, completely wrong. Your parents loved you with every inch of their hearts.”
“They were mad at me for stealing.”
“Never. They weren’t mad and neither was I. Your mom and dad would never, ever want you to think that. We had a conference because we love you and care about you. Promise me you’ll believe that because it’s the absolute truth.”
She nodded. “All right.”
Lily lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. She tucked her in, then arranged her two favorite toys—a well-worn lamb and a one-eyed monkey—on either side of her. “You should sleep.”
“I will. But Lily?”
“Yes?”
“I thought of a song.”
“A song.”
“For the funeral.”
Lily took a deep breath, held it in. Hang on, she told herself, letting the breath out by inches. Hang on. “What song is that?”
“I want ‘Rainbow Connection.’” The third grade class had been learning the song in school and Charlie clearly loved it, particularly the original version sung by Kermit the Frog.
She bent down and carefully kissed Charlie’s forehead. “I think that can be arranged.”
part three
For what is it to die,
But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?
—Kahlil Gibran
chapter 20
In the early hours of the morning before the funeral of his brother, Sean Maguire played a round of golf. If it seemed irreverent or disrespectful in any way, he didn’t give a shit. This was the golf course where he and Derek had spent the days of their boyhood. Together, they’d played each hole innumerable times. They knew every blade of grass, every rise of a bunker, every dimple on a green. They had laughed and taunted and competed with each other in the golden summers of their youth, neither of them imagining that anything bad could ever happen to them.
And for a good long time, nothing did. They played golf through high school and college, laying ribbons and trophies at Patrick Maguire’s feet like sacred offerings. Each had earned his PGA card the first time through Q
School. Derek, the elder, was the hard worker, the consistent player. Sean, with more talent but less dedication, always seemed to be in his shadow, but no one was forcing him to stand there. The fact was, Sean had been comfortable flying under the radar. People had no expectations of him, so he rarely disappointed them. And sometimes, like that one amazing year at Augusta, he surprised them.
With Derek gone, there was no shadow to fall over him, and Sean wasn’t certain he could stand the glare of attention. Red had done his best to keep the media at bay, though when a beautiful young couple in their prime are killed in a mysterious accident, there was no avoiding speculation. The reporters and cameramen circled. How do you feel about losing your brother? The shouted questions made Sean’s blood boil.
How did he feel about losing his brother? Were they kidding? Did they think he had an answer for that?
He was doing his level best to play the stoic, to act like the man of the family now, even though he was a wreck inside. A nightmare haunted him. The highway patrol investigators had not detected skid marks on the road where Derek’s car had gone down the bank. Sean kept imagining Derek and Crystal airborne, Tillamook Rock in the distance, regarding each other with shock and disbelief, because they were flying.
Not knowing how to grieve or say goodbye had brought him out early this morning, to the lonely quiet of the empty course. Standing at the first tee, he took a deep breath of evergreen-scented air, taking in the hushed beauty of the landscape and feeling the dig of a piercing pain. Damn it, Derek. I miss you, he thought. They’d had their rivalries and their troubles, but they’d never lost their love and respect for each other.
Now Sean played alone, dedicating the round to his brother. This was the week he was supposed to play in his first major in the States, battling his way back onto the tour. Instead, he was making a final private farewell to Derek, and he knew from the second he stepped up to the tee that it was the right way to say goodbye.
He took his first swing, a movement as clean and sharp as an executioner’s sword. The ball flew straight down the middle of the fairway. He could hear its gentle thud as it landed exactly where he’d intended, giving him a perfect shot at the green. The entire round went the same way, as fine a game as he had ever played. There were birdies and even an eagle, dead-on chip shots and putts that were drawn to the hole as if by a magnet. His focus and concentration had a Zen-like intensity, allowing no room for doubts or mistakes. He honored his brother with every shot, recorded scores most golfers could never imagine.
For you, Derek, he thought as he finished the last hole by sinking a thirty-foot putt.
Red was waiting for him when he walked off the course. The agent held out his hand for the scorecard, studied it briefly and said, “If you could do that in competition play, you’d be back in the game in no time.”
“Uh-huh.” They walked to the clubhouse together and Sean put away his golf bag. “I’m not thinking about the tour.”
“Not today, but…soon. I mean it, Sean. What the hell else are you going to do?”
Sean had no answer for that. Maybe Red was right. He’d never held down a normal job. The game was in his blood and bone, and it felt unnatural when he wasn’t playing. He didn’t know who he was if he wasn’t a golfer.
“I can’t be touring if I’m in charge of Derek’s kids.”
“I say it can work out. Face it, Sean, a racehorse has to run.” Red sent him a meaningful look. “I’ll see you at the church.”
Sean drove home slowly through a town he remembered like the tune of an old song. Comfort hadn’t changed much, and this morning the familiarity was painful. Derek was everywhere in this town, or so it seemed. Every single place Sean passed, from the Comfort Food Bar & Grill to the vacant lot adjacent to the hardware store, reminded him of his brother and filled him with regrets that he hadn’t stayed closer, known Derek better at the end of his life. Like everyone else, he had thought they had all the time in the world. He wondered why people always thought that way.
He found Maura working at the computer. In an elegant black dress and high heels, she looked beautiful and very serious. He hadn’t seen much of her this week, since he’d been staying with Derek’s kids. Lily had finally shooed him out of the house this morning, telling him she’d look after the kids and meet him at the church later.
“Hey,” Maura said, “are you all right?”
He bent down and kissed her cheek, catching a sharp whiff of perfume. “I need a shower and shave.”
“I’m ready to go when you are.”
He hurried through the shower and put on a dark suit he’d bought in Malaysia. Actually, Asmida had bought it, back when they thought they were in love. They probably had been in love. Sean’s trouble was that he didn’t know how to stay that way.
Maura was waiting in the foyer when he came down. The sight of her made him smile a little, at least. She was attractive in an athletic, fiercely intelligent way that she claimed most men found intimidating. Not Sean, though. He thought she was sexy and she thought she was good for him.
Her work ethic sure as hell was. When he’d moved back to the States he’d been adrift, gravitating toward more stupid mistakes like getting back on the tour. She and Derek had set him straight. He needed steadiness, a regular job, time to get back on his feet.
“You look wonderful,” she said with a warm smile.
He nodded distractedly and took out his keys. “I hate this.”
“Everybody hates this,” she assured him, then touched his cheek. The scratches had nearly healed. “I wish I’d known your brother better.”
“So do I.” As they drove to the church, Sean wondered why the two most important people in his life barely knew each other. He could always blame Maura’s work hours and Derek’s own busy career. Now it was too late and there was no one at all to blame.
“Is it weird, living at that house with that woman?”
Yes. “She just stayed the week. The kids need us both.”
“You’re speeding,” Maura pointed out as he headed up the state road toward the old part of town.
He eased his foot off the pedal and forced himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel. Maura rested her hand lightly on his shoulder until the pager on her cell phone went off. As she checked it and made a call, Sean felt his jaw going tight. She had done her best to get the day off, but with a job like hers, she could never be completely free.
When he turned into the church parking lot, he knew the day was rapidly getting worse. Red had warned him that the media would be here in force. There were, of course, the inevitable rumors circulating. What was a supposedly estranged couple doing out together, driving the coast road? Was foul play a factor? And what about reports that despite his success at golf, Derek Holloway had financial troubles?
News vans were already parked along the street and in the church lot, thick black cable snaking across the pavement. Sean drove directly to the rear door, surrendered his car to a waiting attendant; then he and Maura ducked inside to a small reception room behind the sanctuary.
He had no idea how to behave, how to be in charge of this. He shook hands with the minister and accepted his condolences; he went over last-minute details with the funeral director. He thought, with a weird sense of unreality, that the caskets he and Red had picked out were handsome and so shiny that the hard-polished surfaces reflected the framed photos and hundreds of flowers covering them. The caskets were closed, a small mercy, he supposed. At least Derek’s kids didn’t have to look at their parents’ empty faces.
Nothing felt concrete or had any substance. Sean had a peculiar sensation that he was about to drift away and disappear like the soft, nasal strains of organ music that haunted the church, along with the smell of gardenias and chrysanthemums. The grief counselor working with the family had warned him to expect feelings of detachment. Apparently this was a common sensation in people experiencing loss. There was nothing anchoring him to earth.
“Sean?” Maura’s s
oft voiced tugged at him.
“What’s that?”
“You’re a million miles away.”
“I’m right here.” He was still floating, but he didn’t tell her that. Derek wasn’t in the casket. He couldn’t be. His presence was too palpable. Sean could still hear the sound of his voice and was convinced that all he had to do was phone him, tell him the jig was up, this isn’t funny anymore and wasn’t in the first place.
“The doors are about to open. We’re supposed to wait with the director until five minutes before the ceremony. Are you sure you’re all right?”
The question came to him as though through a long, hollow tube. Are you sure you’re all right? Hell, no, he wasn’t sure. He had no idea how to do this, how to bury his brother and take care of three kids, but he heard himself tell Maura he was fine.
He paced the reception room, occasionally glancing at a video monitor showing the sanctuary. The doors were opened and people poured in. Mourners. One moment they were Derek’s friends; now they were mourners. There were hundreds of them, it seemed.
Sean pulled his gaze away and looked out the window. A gleaming limo pulled up and a driver with white gloves opened the door.
“That’s the teacher?” Maura asked. In the chaos of the past few days, she hadn’t met Lily and the children.
“Yes,” he said, and felt himself settling back to earth, grounded again. “That’s Lily. Come on out and meet everyone.” He strode toward the car.
Cameron emerged first, followed by Charlie, who looked taut-faced and terrified. “Uncle Sean,” she said, flinging her arms around him.
“Hey, you.”
“I’m scared,” she said, her voice muffled against his coat.
“Me, too.” He had discovered very quickly that it did no good to lie to Charlie. She saw right through him, every time. “Let me help Lily with the baby and then I want you to meet somebody special.”
“I’m Maura Riley,” he heard Maura say as he bent to unbuckle Ashley from her car seat. The baby crowed and said, “Hi!” with a big smile. He lifted her out and set her on the ground, and Lily took her by the hand.
