The Last Good Day

CHAPTER
13

Shortly after two that morning, a violent storm began. One volley of thunder was so ear-splitting that I sat bolt upright in bed. Heart still pounding, I went down to check on Taylor. Despite flashes of lightning bright as daylight, Taylor continued to sleep the sleep of the just, and I wandered back to my room intent on catching a few more winks. I would have been more usefully employed trying to jam toothpaste back in the tube. No matter how diligently I pounded the pillows, smoothed the sheets, breathed deeply, sought my mental good place, assumed the shava-asana position, and willed my mind to free itself from thoughts of past and future, sleep eluded me. Finally, I gave up, took my blanket to the chair by the window, and sat back to watch the show and see if I could make sense of the revelations that had been coming like hammer blows, one after another.

It turned out to be a profitable night. By the time the worst of the storm was over and the bleak light of dawn seeped in my window, I hadn’t come up with any answers, but I was certain I knew what questions to ask. Eager to get started, I dug out my slicker and snapped on Willie’s leash. Like Maggie Muggins, I had places to go, people to see, and things to do.

It was a day to believe in the pathetic fallacy: a gunmetal sky, a driving, hostile rain that stung my face and legs, and a keening wind that tossed the gulls around like pieces of tissue. Oblivious to the warnings from the elements, Willie pounded through the sloppy gravel, barking happily as we rounded the road by the gazebo and he spotted the Inukshuk, a new friend. I would have turned back but there was something I needed to check. When I found what I was looking for, I felt the rush that comes when the pieces of a puzzle are beginning to fit together.

My exhilaration was short-lived. As we passed the Wainbergs’, a vehicle shot out of the driveway. Willie and I were right in its path. When I jerked him out of harm’s way, I lost my footing in the gumbo of the gravel road and fell. The car skidded to a stop and Delia jumped out. She was dressed for the city: a smart black suit with a very short skirt, black stockings, pumps with serious heels.

“God, are you all right?” she said.

I stood up and checked for damage. There didn’t seem to be any. “I’m fine,” I said.

“You and Willie look as if you’ve been mud-wrestling. Come on. Get in the car. I’ll take you home.”

“We’re an upholstery hazard,” I said. “We can walk. A little more rain’s not going to hurt us.”

Delia frowned. “I just about killed you. The least I can do is get you out of this monsoon.”

“Sold,” I said. I opened the back door of Delia’s car and turned to my dog with a command. “In, Willie.” He stood, riveted to the spot. “In,” I repeated. Willie cocked his head, perplexed but immobile. I lifted his bum and gave him a push. “In,” I said. Accepting the inevitable, he lumbered up, threw himself belly down on the upholstery, and pressed his nose against the window.

When I got into the passenger seat, Delia looked at me hard and shook her head. “All the women who’ve been after Zack, and you’re the one…”

“I’m not ‘the one,’ ” I said, “but I do clean up nicely.” We looked at one another and laughed.

“Hey,” Delia said, “a good start to what will no doubt end up being another crappy day.” She turned the key in the ignition. “Zack and Blake have decided the partners have to go through the trust ledgers together. More beating up on ourselves. It’s not as if we don’t know what we’re going to find. Zack filled us in last night.” She pulled a tissue from her bag and blew her nose. “At least we know now why Chris killed himself, but what the hell was up with Clare Mackey? Chris would have been the best father.”

“I guess Clare didn’t agree,” I said.

“Forgive me if I don’t lead the applause for Clare and her ethics,” Delia said icily. She pulled into my driveway. “Here you are,” she said. “Home sweet home.”

“Muddied but unbowed,” I said.

She gave me a faint smile. “Guess what? I’m still not smoking.”

“I’ll lead the applause for that,” I said. I had my hand on the handle of the car door, but I didn’t push it down. “Delia, did Noah build the gazebo?”

Her eyes widened. “Where did that come from? Anyway, the answer is no. He did the carving of the woman, but not the rest.” She reached over and gave my shoulder an affectionate pat. “Watch out for traffic. Now that I’m a non-smoker, maybe you and I can get up our own Ultimate team.”

Angus greeted me at the front door with a whoop of laughter. “You and Willie look like you’ve been mud-wrestling.”

“You’re the second person to tell me that,” I said. “That means you win the big prize – the opportunity to take Willie out back and hose him down. I’m going to hit the shower.”

The phone rang before I’d kicked off my runners. Angus answered it and handed it to me with a lascivious wink. “It’s the Man,” he said.

“I’m outside your house,” Zack said. “Have you got a minute to say goodbye?”

“As long as you don’t make any mud-wrestling jokes,” I said.

“I don’t get it.”

“You will.”

When he saw me, Zack raised an eyebrow. “Hop in.”

“I’ll wreck your upholstery.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He was dressed for work: white shirt, striped tie, and a suit that probably cost as much as my entire wardrobe. He put his arm around me. “What’s the punchline to that joke about how porcupines make love?”

“Very carefully,” I said. And for a few lovely minutes, we were very careful.

When I got out of the shower, Taylor was sitting on my bed, knitting. The hyacinth scarf was finished, and she was practising the moss stitch before she moved on. “Rose would like you to call her. She has a favour to ask. The something-or-other on her car is broken, but she wants to visit Betty because Betty gets blue when it rains. Gracie’s mum is still sick, so Rose wondered if you’d mind driving us over.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “You and the other girls are going too?”

“Rose says we’re as good as a tonic for Betty. Besides, we always have fun there.”

I called Rose and we agreed that, given the driving conditions, we should get an early start. As we set out, I was glad we were in my car. Rose’s Buick was a boat, and the road to Standing Buffalo was filled with turns that were hair-raising on a good day, and this was decidedly not a good day. In fact, the weather seemed to be growing uglier by the hour. Visibility was poor to non-existent, the roads were slick, and the ditches were filling. When we drove between the white-painted tractor tires that marked Betty’s driveway, my tires spun ominously and I wondered if I’d be able to make it out. We sent Rose inside, and the girls and I scurried between car and house, carrying Tupperware containers of food, a fresh supply of magazines, a case of pop, and pyjamas and a change of clothes for everybody “just in case.” As soon as everyone was settled, I asked for a rain check on Betty’s offer of tea, and, cleverly navigating the ruts, I drove straight to the Point Store.

Stan was watching an I Love Lucy classic when I arrived. As he had before, Stan turned down the sound, dragged a chrome chair in from the kitchen, and directed me to the La-Z-Boy. That morning, the plush contours of the chair were as comforting as a warm bath. On TV, Lucy was starting her job at the chocolate factory.

Stan tore himself away from the screen and turned his attention to me. “More history?” he asked.

“Recent history,” I said. “When was the gazebo at Lawyers’ Bay built?”

“Last year, middle of November. Late, but we had that mild winter, remember?”

“I remember,” I said. “We had a green Christmas.” Stan nodded. “I never liked those. They don’t seem right.”

“Did a local company do the work?” I asked.

Stan made of moue of disgust. “She’d never hire local.”

“She?”

“Lily Falconer,” Stan said. “She got a company in the city, and I’ll tell you, men never worked harder for their dollar than those men did.”

“It was a difficult job?”

Stan shook his head. “It shouldn’t have been. Pretty straightforward piece of construction except for that fancy stonework. Of course, there was that statue of Gloria, but Noah Wainberg carved that. In my opinion, Lily should have got Noah to do the whole thing. He could have, but maybe it was his good luck that she didn’t ask him. Lily was in such a state about that gazebo. She was there every day, supervising. It got so’s they were afraid to move a shovelful of dirt. ‘Build it to last forever.’ That’s what she told them. The man in charge told her his company built everything to last forever, so she could relax and go home, but she wouldn’t budge.”

“The workers talked to you about the job, then?”

On TV the conveyer belt was moving more quickly and Lucy was saucer-eyed with desperation. Stan and I exchanged smiles. “The coffee pot’s always been on at the Point Store,” Stan said. “The bottomless cup’s not something your son’s girlfriend dreamed up, although to be fair she’s made it a lot nicer. But to return to my point, when the gazebo men were on the job, they came into the store to warm up, have a cup of joe, and talk. Lily was a tough taskmaster. One of the men said she carried on as if they were working on holy ground.”

Lucy and Ethel were growing more frantic, popping chocolates into their mouths until their cheeks bulged, shoving chocolates under their factory caps, dropping chocolates down the front of their uniforms, and still the conveyer belt kept on moving. Nothing could stop it.

I pulled myself out of the La-Z-Boy and thanked Stan.

He waved at me absently. He was mesmerized by the screen where, once again, Lucy was about to get her comeuppance.

The rain had stopped by the time I reached the gazebo. Even from fifteen metres away I could see that the stone-and-concrete outcropping on which the gazebo had been built was the perfect crypt. The world had suddenly become very small. I walked to the carved woman, reached out, and touched her cheek. It was cool and wet. “How much do you know?” I asked.

“How much do you know?” When I heard Lily Falconer repeat my question, the marrow in my bones froze.

I whirled around. She had made no effort to protect herself against the weather. Her bluejeans and the soft leather bag slung over her shoulder were dark with rain, her white shirt clung to her breasts, and her beautiful hair hung lank against her shoulders. The family likeness between Lily and her mother shocked me. The faces of both women were carved with the lines of those who have known too many sorrows and carried too many secrets.

Startled, I answered without thinking. “How much do I know about what?” I said.

Lily raised her arm and brought the flat of her hand against my jaw with full force. The pain brought tears to my eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know,” she said.

I touched my jaw to see if it had been dislocated. It hurt, but it appeared to be where it should be. I started towards my car.

Lily stepped in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” I said.

She shook her head as if to clear it. “No,” she said. “You’re not.” She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder. “I have a gun.”

The weapon she pulled out was a Glock 22, the German-made semi-automatic pistol used by the Regina police. There was no way Alex would willingly have handed this gun to anyone. I could feel the first stirrings of hysteria.

“Lily, you didn’t -”

She cut me off. “I could never hurt Alex. I knew I’d need a gun, so I took his while he was sleeping.”

She held the gun expertly, aimed down at the sand. There was no doubt in my mind that she was capable of pulling the trigger. Out of nowhere a memory surfaced: Alex and Angus watching a TV cop show, and Alex telling my son that the Regina police had adopted the Glock because it was so fast and safe that it allowed the shooter to concentrate on the target. Now that I was the target, I did not find the memory cheering.

Lily raised the gun. If she pulled the trigger at that angle she’d shoot my kneecap. No more runs with Willie.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said.

“I know where Clare Mackey is,” I said.

“And you’re going to tell the police.”

I looked at the pistol. The pain in my jaw was excruciating. I’d have to make every word count.

“Maybe not,” I said. “Make me understand.”

“You’re trying to buy time,” she said flatly.

“No,” I said. “I just want to know more.”

“I had to protect the Winners’ Circle,” Lily said.

“No matter what?”

Lily frowned, annoyed at my thick-headedness. “It gave me my life,” she said.

The night I met him, Zack told me that when he joined the Winners’ Circle, he’d been like a drunk discovering Jesus. His words had been sardonic; Lily’s were not. Her lips were slightly parted, and there was a fanatic’s glow in her grey eyes. When it came to the Winners’ Circle, she was clearly a true believer. She was also scarier than hell.

“Tell me about it,” I said. I took a step towards her. “Lily, you’re important to so many people at Lawyers’ Bay. They’re good people and they respect you. I want to know you better.”

Lily met my gaze through eyes that were as forlorn as those of a lost child. “I wish Alex had told me about you earlier.”

“So do I.”

“You know, we might have become friends.”

“Perhaps we still can,” I said. “But, Lily, you’re going to have to put down the gun.”

She looked down at the Glock. “If I throw this away, will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll stay.”

Lily raised her perfectly toned arm and pitched the gun along the shore behind me. When I heard it hit the ground, my pulse slowed.

“I kept my part of the bargain,” Lily said. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m still here,” I said. “Tell me about the Winners’ Circle. What did it mean to you?”

“Everything,” she said and suddenly her face was washed of care. As she talked, Lily was in the past, discovering her identity, building her life. “The first time I heard the word ‘entitlement’ I thought of the way the partners were the afternoon I met them. It was at this drunken happy hour in the old Falconer Shreve offices. The place looked as if it had been strafed, but the five of them were perfect, so sure of themselves. They knew that they were the best and that they were entitled to the best.”

“And that’s why you wanted to be part of their world.”

“That’s why I deserved to be part of it,” Lily corrected. “I didn’t just marry into the Winners’ Circle. I earned my place. As much as any of them, I made Falconer Shreve a success. I knew if we wanted to get platinum-card clients we needed prestigious offices. I found that heritage building where we are now, and I made all the decisions about the renovations. I’ve hired every administrative assistant and sat in on the interviews for all the juniors we’ve hired. I know when someone is Falconer Shreve material. I’ve made sure the bills are paid and the clients are handled with care – we entertain the ones who matter twice a year, Christmas and Canada Day. That party you were at was my idea. It was my idea for us all to build summer houses out here. When Kevin’s parents were alive, we’d just camp on the beach, but I knew if we were going to be a top law firm, we had to have houses, big expensive houses that said Falconer Shreve was a presence in the community.

“After we built the houses at Lawyers’ Bay, the people in town who had looked down their noses at me my whole life, who had called me names and treated me like dirt, like less than dirt, started treating me with respect. And I treated them with respect. There was nothing to be gained by holding a grudge. I had to make certain everything ran smoothly.”

I met her gaze. “Rose said that from the time she taught you to knit, you never dropped a stitch.”

Lily shook her head sadly. “I couldn’t afford to. I always knew that if I dropped a stitch everything would come undone.”

“And Clare Mackey was going to take away everything you’d worked for.”

Lily looked at me gratefully. “You do understand.”

My jaw was swelling. It was difficult to get out the words. “What happened with Clare?”

“She brought it on herself,” Lily said. “That business with the trust ledgers was old news. Every account had been balanced to the penny. Everyone in the firm took a lot of crap jobs to make sure we got back on top again.”

“So the partners knew.”

“About the trust accounts? No,” she said. “Chris was the only one who knew. I told the others we were in a slump because of the market. I said that, for a while, they’d have to take whatever cases came along, and they did.”

“Without question?”

“They trusted my judgement. If Clare had trusted my judgement things would have been different. I was the one she came to when she discovered the problem with the ledgers. I tried to convince her that since there were no victims, we could all just move along. I said that if she didn’t want to stay at Falconer Shreve, I’d make inquiries about other firms.”

“But she didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh but she did – at first.” Lily’s voice was thick with contempt. “And when she agreed, I arranged an interview with a really good law firm in Vancouver. Everything was taken care of. Then she missed her period, and things fell apart. I’d always gotten along well with Clare. She was like me – realistic, able to keep her focus – but the pregnancy threw her. It was almost as if she saw it as some sort of punishment. She arranged for the abortion. She didn’t tell Chris until it was over. He was devastated. Clare didn’t help matters there. She put the blame for the abortion squarely at his door, said that the poison of dishonesty seeps into everything and that if she was going to start a new life, she had to excise the poison by going to the Law Society. That’s when he came to me.

“He was in terrible shape. He felt he was responsible for the death of his child and now he was going to bring shame to the firm. It was just before the Remembrance Day holiday, so I went to Clare and begged her to take the weekend to think about her decision. I said she could use our place out here. I was certain if she just had a chance to consider, she’d realize that there had been enough grief.”

Lily’s eyes were beseeching. She was desperate to make me understand the forces that had driven her to kill Clare Mackey.

“Clare wouldn’t listen to you,” I said.

“No. When I came to pick her up on that Sunday night, she hadn’t changed her mind.” Lily laughed softly. “Did you know she couldn’t drive? Three university degrees and Clare Mackey couldn’t drive a car. If she had a driver’s licence she’d be alive today.” Lily shook her head. “But there’s no going back, is there?”

“How did it happen?” I said.

“I choked her to death with my bare hands,” Lily said. “We were standing on that spot where the gazebo is now, looking out at the lake. She just wouldn’t listen. No matter what I said, it was the same old tune – she had to get the poison of what Chris had done out of her life. No thought at all about how it would affect the rest of us. I was so angry. When it was over, I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Then, of course, I had to take care of the… aftermath… myself.”

“Did you have to take care of Chris, too?”

Lily’s smile was faint. “No. Chris took care of Chris. After he talked to you the night of the fireworks, he came to me. He said he was going to ‘atone.’ He’d already made some phone calls and he’d gotten up his nerve to call Clare.”

“He believed the story about the ‘dream job’?”

“No, he believed Falconer Shreve was paying Clare to stay away and stay silent. But all of a sudden he had to cleanse his conscience. He was as stubborn as Clare was. He was prepared to go to the ends of the earth to find her and ask her forgiveness, regardless of the consequences for the firm. So I told him what I’d done. I told him that I’d killed Clare to protect Falconer Shreve. I told him that all that time he’d been talking to you in the gazebo, he’d been standing on her burial ground. I thought that might shock him into understanding that his first loyalty should be to us, to the Winners’ Circle. But he said he had to go to the police.” Lily’s grey eyes met mine. “Do you know what he told me? He said he couldn’t live with the knowledge of what I’d done. So I said, ‘You don’t have to live with it.’ All I meant was that I was the one who had to live with what I’d done, but he heard it differently. He gave me a hug and said, ‘Point taken.’ The next thing I knew he’d driven his car into the lake.”

“The ultimate act of loyalty,” I said.

“Yes,” Lily said. “At the critical moment, Chris knew exactly what to do. Maybe that’s something members of the Winners’ Circle are born with, like their sense that they’re entitled to the best.” Her face crumpled. “I never quite managed to convince myself of that one.”

I remembered Chris telling Taylor that nothing lasts forever. He’d been wrong. Childhood lasts forever.

When I saw Alex’s Audi drive up, I felt a wash of relief. It was over. As Alex approached Lily, his voice was gentle and reassuring. “Time to go home, Lily,” he said.

In an instant, the pain and confusion were wiped from her face. “You always find me.”

“Yes,” he said. “I always do.”

She shivered. “I’m cold.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Better?” he asked.

Silent, she nodded and drew closer to him. The moment triggered the memory of a night of changeable weather when a wind had come up, and Alex had put his arm around me. Something inside me broke.

For the first time Alex looked at me. “Are you all right?” he asked.

My jaw was so sore I could barely speak. “Just remembering,” I said.

Two words, but they were enough. “That night on the Albert Street bridge,” he said. “The beginning of the end.” I turned away because I couldn’t bear to look at his eyes. “It was probably for the best,” he said. “It would never have worked for us, Jo.”

I waited till they’d driven off before I went to my car. When I called Zack on my cell, I was prepared to leave a message, but he answered.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hey, this is a nice surprise,” he said.

“I’m afraid it’s not,” I said. “Lily’s been arrested for Clare Mackey’s murder.”

“Oh Jesus,” he said. “What happened?”

“Zack, I’ve hurt my jaw. It’s hard for me to talk. But Lily will need a lawyer.”

“What about you?”

“No lawyer, just an ice pack,” I said.

“I’m calling a doctor,” Zack said.

“Don’t. Just make sure someone’s with Lily.”

“Was Gracie there when Lily was arrested?”

“No,” I said. “Rose took the kids over to Standing Buffalo for the day.”

“Thank God for that,” Zack said. “Hang on, Ms. Kilbourn. I’m on my way.”

When I got back to the cottage, I changed into dry clothes, lit a fire, and made myself a hot drink. Then I went over and picked up Louis L’Amour’s Buckskin Run. The book jacket told me there were over 110 million copies of his books in print around the world, and assured me I would be spellbound. I wasn’t, but it wasn’t Louis L’Amour’s fault.

Rod Morgan and Jed Blue had just agreed to be partners because they were cut from the same leather, when the phone rang. It was Zack.

“Something’s screwy, Joanne. I’m at police headquarters. They don’t know anything about an arrest – especially not one involving Alex Kequahtooway. He’s been suspended from the force.”

“But Lily confessed to everything. They left together. I assumed…”

Zack sighed. “Never assume. Don’t talk to anybody until I get there, okay? There are a hundred cops looking for Lily and the inspector, and they’re sending someone to Lawyers’ Bay to talk to you. I’ll be there as soon as I get some ice for your jaw.”

“If you brought some single-malt Scotch to go with that ice, I wouldn’t take it amiss,” I said.

I hung up the phone furious at Alex for deceiving me once again, and at myself for being stupid enough to believe that he had suddenly remembered the oath he’d taken when he’d graduated from the police college. He and Lily were clearly on the run. Like everything else, that decision made no sense. Alex knew me well enough to know I would follow up on what happened after Lily was taken to the police station. And he knew that the moment the police realized he and Lily had fled, they would deploy every available officer to track them down. There was no way they could escape. Then, like Paul on the road to Damascus, the scales fell from my eyes, and I knew.

It was a short drive to the church at Lebret. Not more than fifteen minutes, and for the first time that day, the skies had cleared. The silver Audi was parked behind the church, facing the Stations of the Cross on the hill that Lily’s mother had climbed every day during the last year of her life. My legs were weak as I picked my way through the puddles towards Alex’s car. Bathed in the watery sunlight, the vehicle already seemed unearthly.

I think I had realized all along that I would be too late. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have mistaken Lily and Alex for lovers. Her head was against his chest; his arm was around her shoulders, shielding and protecting. Later, forensic testing would determine that Alex had fired both shots. There was no way out for either of them and they hadn’t wanted to take a chance that one would live without the other. But at that moment, all I could see was the blood that flowed from their wounds, mingling and mixing like tributaries of a larger river, two lives that had run their parallel courses and come together in death. At long last, Alex Kequahtooway and Lily Ryder were home.

There are few sites that have the emotional resonance of a fresh grave in summer: the moist dank scent of earth and the too-sweet smell of cut flowers curling with heat and the onset of decay. The week after the tragedy at Lebret, I was present as two people were put in their graves and a third was removed from hers.

Lily and Alex were buried in Lake View cemetery across the water from Lawyers’ Bay. In an act of generosity that made it possible to believe in human decency, Blake Falconer arranged to have the woman he had always loved buried next to the only human being she had ever cared for. Both Lily’s funeral and Alex’s were private. Both were marked by the bruised bewilderment of mourners forced to deal with the fact that a human being’s final act had been to throw a grenade into the careful construction that housed everything that those who loved them believed them to be.

From the moment Eli Kequahtooway arrived back from Vancouver, where he was studying art at Emily Carr, Angus was at his side. There had been a time when the boys had been like brothers, and I was glad to see that the bond between them was still strong. Eli had chosen to stay at Standing Buffalo until his uncle’s funeral, and Angus had, without comment, simply moved in with him. They bunked together at Betty’s house, and the night before the funeral, Betty made tea and fried bannock for the boys and me and then withdrew to her pretty, frilly bedroom so Angus, Eli, and I could talk.

We sat at Betty’s kitchen table until the small hours. Eli was haunted by the fact that there had been no suicide note, no final telephone call, and that night, in an attempt to explain the unexplainable, the three of us tried to piece together what we knew. It wasn’t enough. As I watched the hope in Eli’s eyes turn to despair, I knew that it would be years before he would trust again. When finally we said goodnight, I drew Eli to me and whispered that his uncle had loved him deeply, but that events had overtaken him and he simply hadn’t had time to say goodbye. The words were cold comfort, but they were all I had.

Clare Mackey’s funeral was the same day as Alex Kequahtooway’s. Had there been no conflict, I might have gone. Then again, I might not have. I’d said my prayers the day the machines ripped up the hill where Clare was buried. The workers had been careful as they disassembled the gazebo. One of the men assured me that not a pane of glass was cracked. The wooden carving of Gloria Ryder had been placed to one side. It lay on the beach, its back to the gazebo as the police dug up Clare Mackey’s remains.

Sandra Mikalonis sent me a copy of the eulogy she had delivered at Clare’s funeral. In it she praised Clare’s integrity and remembered her passion for Bach and her joy when she scored the winning goal at the national law games in her graduating year. Sandra ended her eulogy by noting Clare’s steadfast dedication to her principles. Clare’s life, Sandra said, had been fired by her commitment to the motto of the University of Saskatchewan’s College of Law: Fiat justitia – let justice be done.

A week after the funerals, Rose and I visited the Lake View cemetery. We came with flowers, jam jars full of petunias from Betty’s garden. Lily’s were pink; Alex’s purple. “Better for a man,” Betty had declared.

As we always seemed to be, Rose and I were in step. We were silent as we placed our flowers on the graves and unhurried as we thought our private thoughts. It was a gentle day, cool, sunny, and breezy.

“So how are you doing?” Rose asked finally.

“Truthfully, I feel as if someone ripped away my top layer of skin.”

Rose nodded sagely. “I know that feeling. But we have to stop. The old people say if you mourn too long they get stuck, the ones who’ve passed away. They can’t get on with their journey.”

“I’ve heard that,” I said. “I always thought it made a lot of sense.”

“And you and I have to get on with it, too. We’re not young women.”

“No,” I said. “We’re not.”

“And we’ve got responsibilities,” Rose said. “I’ve got Gracie and her dad.”

“And I’ve got my kids and my job. Did I tell you my daughter and her family are spending the month of August here?”

“Is that the daughter I met at Alex’s funeral?”

“Yes,” I said. “My daughter Mieka.”

“How old are the kids?”

“Maddy’s three and Lena’s seven months.”

“That’s good,” Rose said. “We could use some babies around here.”

I stopped to pick a weed from a grave. Rose took the Safeway bag from her pocket and held it out to me. I dropped the weed in and she nodded approvingly.

“That Zack Shreve’s an interesting man,” she said.

“He is,” I agreed.

“Tough.”

“So they say.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “They also say that sometimes the toughest nuts have the sweetest meat. I wonder if that’s true.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Rose shoved the Safeway bag back in her pocket. “Well,” she said, “isn’t it lucky that you’ve got the rest of the summer to find out?”