Chapter 2

Emma stared at him blankly. Though she had only one sister, she said, “Rachel?” 

He nodded, his eyes glistening with tears. “Yes. Rachel. And Evan too. They were both in the car.”

Emma tugged her hand free and backed up until she stumbled over the patio table. Her mug slipped from her grip and shattered next to her foot. “No,” she choked out, shaking her head. 

Joe touched her arm. "Come inside. You need to sit down."

She let him lead her into the kitchen. With trembling hands, she pulled a chair out from under the table and collapsed into it. She clutched the cool granite tabletop, running her thumbs over the smooth top and then rubbing her fingers across the rough underside. Her ears rang, and bile rose in her throat. She shook her head again, trying to settle her frantic thoughts. There had to be some mistake. Maybe it was another couple. Maybe this was a dream. 

“I’m so sorry, Emma. So sorry.” She heard the tears in his voice, but her own eyes were dry. He laid both hands on her shoulders, but when her muscles stiffened under his gentle touch, he let his hands drop.

Emma studied the random pattern of brown flecks in the tabletop. “What happened?” she asked flatly. 

“They were on the way home from celebrating their anniversary in Chicago. It was after midnight, and it was raining. They ran into an embankment. Maybe Evan fell asleep. Or maybe the car hydroplaned.”

“Did they suffer? I mean, was it instantaneous?”

“Evan was gone before the ambulance arrived, of massive head injuries. Rachel died on the way to the hospital from internal bleeding. They don’t know how long the car was sitting there before a passing—”

“Wait!” Emma spun to face Joe. “What about the baby?” 

He held her eyes as he shook his head. “No, she didn’t make it. It was too early.” 

Emma's regret was a physical pain, crushing her chest. She laid her forehead on the table and tried to block out the accusing thoughts. How many years had passed since she’d really talked with Rachel? Now she could never mend the rift. And she would never hold this long-awaited first baby. 

Joe sat beside her and laid a hand on her back. This time, she avoided the urge to pull away from his touch. As his hand rubbed in circles over her back, the constriction in her chest intensified. She didn’t deserve his compassion. Her eyes burned, but how could she cry when she’d been the one to shut Rachel out of her life? Despite his embrace, she’d never felt more alone. 

They sat that way for a long time, with only Joe's sniffles interrupting the silence, until she couldn’t bear another moment. She sat up and took a deep breath. “So when is the funeral?”

“That’s what your mom wants to talk about. You’d better call.”

She couldn’t listen to the story again, couldn’t endure her mother’s awkward sympathy. And she had no words of comfort to offer. “Could you call her, please?”

“Emma, she needs to talk to you. She has to make funeral arrangements.”

“Please, Joe. Just tell her I... I don’t know. I’m just not ready to talk. Tell her I’ll call soon.” 

He sighed. “Alright. I’ll tell her you’re too upset to talk now. Just make sure you do call back.” 

“I will. After I make flight arrangements.” 

“Are we flying, then?” 

“I want to get there in plenty of time for the viewing. And I don’t want to drive straight through.”

He nodded. “So how long will we stay?”

“Maybe a couple days after the funeral. How long can you take off?”

“At least three days, but there’s no reason you can’t stay longer. Your mom might need you.” 

“I don't know. I don’t see any point in hanging around and crying for a week.” Startled at how cold her words sounded, Emma hastened to add, “I mean, what can I really do to help? It’s not like they have a big estate to settle. And I’m sure Mom will have to get back to work at the cleaners.” 

“Yes, but it'd be nice for Andrew to spend some time with his cousins. I’ll come home after the funeral. If you two get open-ended tickets, you can play it by ear.” 

“That makes sense. Speaking of tickets, I’d better get on that.”

***

Emma was cooking dinner when Andrew got home. He bounded into the kitchen, breathless with excitement. “We went to the skate park at the mall today!” 

“Hello, Andrew,” Emma replied. 

“Oh, hi! So anyway, Kade’s mom let us all skateboard for two hours. It was awesome. You should have seen Kade when he—”

“Wait a second,” Emma cut in. “Could you please wash your hands and stir this meat while I get the salad ready?” 

“Momm!” he whined. “I just got home. I haven’t got to play on my X-Box at all since Thursday.” 

“I need your help,” Emma insisted, pointing to the sink. She didn’t add that it should have been Joe helping her. She’d been busy all afternoon packing and making travel arrangements—so busy that she hadn’t even found time for a shower—and she didn’t feel like making dinner. Despite his initial words of sympathy, Joe hadn’t done anything to make her day easier. Actually, he had offered to pick something up for dinner, but it was getting late, and she figured it would take less time to just throw together some spaghetti. 

While she rinsed and tore the lettuce, Andrew picked up his skateboard story right where he’d left off, only occasionally remembering to stir the meat. Lost in her own thoughts, she let his words flow over her without any attempt at comprehension, but he didn’t seem to notice her silence. She was agonizing over how to broach the subject of Rachel’s and Evan’s deaths. Now didn’t seem to be the right time, not with Andrew chattering happily about landing a back-side kick flip. She’d tell him over dinner, she decided; it would be better to have Joe there anyway.

Joe appeared just then, sweaty again. “I finished mowing the lawn. Everything all set for the trip?”

"Tuesday was the soonest—"

“What trip?” Andrew asked.

Emma caught Joe’s eye, raising her eyebrows. “He just now got home, and I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet,” she explained. “I was going to bring it up over dinner, but since you mentioned it, why don’t you tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Andrew asked, the forgotten wooden spoon dangling idly and dripping grease on the tile floor as he glanced from his father to Emma and back again. 

Emma took the spoon from him and focused her attention on draining the meat, now fully browned. She felt a little guilty for dumping the difficult conversations on Joe twice today. She’d finally called her mother late in the afternoon, and she’d managed to keep the conversation all business. She’d passed on the flight information and learned that her Uncle Robert would be picking them up in South Bend.

Joe laid his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “We have some bad news, son.”

“But you said we’re taking a trip. Isn’t that good news?” 

“No. We’re flying to Indiana for a funeral. Your Aunt Rachel and Uncle Evan died in a car wreck last night.”

“How did they die?” 

“In a car wreck,” Joe repeated.

“I mean, what happened to them in the wreck?” 

At first Emma was put off by Andrew’s seemingly morbid interest, but then she remembered that she’d had mostly the same initial reaction. “Head injuries and internal bleeding,” she said matter-of-factly. “We can talk more over dinner. Would you guys help me set the table now?” 

Andrew peppered them with questions throughout the meal. He wanted to know what the funeral would be like, whether he’d be able to stay with his cousins, and what would happen to Aunt Rachel’s house and cars. 

Emma wasn’t surprised at his apparent lack of sorrow since he hadn’t known Rachel all that well. They’d only seen her once a year at Christmas, and she and Evan were always just part of the crowd. Her shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes for a moment. He'd never know them now.

Andrew had been watching her closely while they ate. “Are you okay, Mom?” 

She was both moved and distressed by the anxiety in his voice. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m sad, of course. But everything’s going to be fine.” 

“Did you cry about Aunt Rachel?” 

“I did,” Joe replied. He looked at Emma questioningly. 

She studied her plate, searching for words. “No, I haven’t,” she said at last. “I don’t think it’s quite real to me yet. I’m sure I’ll cry a lot when it all sinks in.”

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