headed for the door, Michael right behind him. “Yes. I think we should get going.”
When they arrived at the room, they were blocked by a wall of white and aqua jackets surrounding Angela’s bed. Orders were barked and obeyed. Taylor stood on one foot then the other trying to see the monitors, but the view was obstructed by a burly intern whose pinched brow and intense eyes gave her reason to worry. She squeezed Michael’s sweaty palm and felt her father’s hand dig deeper into her shoulder.
It was at times like this that Taylor wished she knew less about medicine, that she was a little girl again... who thought her mother was invincible.
Her ear was trained on the beeps from the monitor, picturing each peak, praying for the next. And then she heard the sound she feared the most—a constant hum
Injections and paddles followed the dismal sound, but to no avail.
The time of death was called by the senior physician.
The trio huddled in the doorway, Taylor in the center. She closed her eyes and pictured her mother’s soul winging its way to heaven and tried to draw comfort from the fact that she was in a better place now, free of all pain. It helped a little, and surely as time passed her faith would help her again.
But in the deep recesses of her mind, there was a dark dread that in the months to come Mom’s death would only be part of her grieving. Grandmother used to say trouble came in threes. If she was right, Taylor didn’t speculate on number two and three. At the moment one seemed more than enough.
It came as no surprise to any of them when the family read Angela’s letters Wednesday afternoon. There was one for each of them that they would later share, and there was one that listed the whereabouts of valuables and papers of importance. Angela had anticipated this day and had planned every last detail, including prepayment of expenses. She’d asked to be cremated after a private family viewing, and if they decided to have a memorial service, she hoped it would be the next day at the hospital chapel.
Simple, clean, fast.
That’s what she wanted and that’s what she got, the family somewhat relieved that decisions had been made, all too numb with the loss of a young, vital woman.
Phone calls kept them busy until late evening, when her father and Michael each retreated behind closed doors, leaving Taylor alone in the kitchen. She cleaned up the bowls of half-eaten soup and wiped the counter, noticing her mother’s hair appointment marked on the calendar next to the phone. It was for next Thursday.
Later, she told herself. She’d call the shop tomorrow.
The idea of telling the sad story one more time today left her weak in the knees and she slumped into the nearest chair. She’d held it together all day, as much for her father and Michael’s sake as her own. Right now she could use a good cry, alone in her room.
But there was one more call she had to make.
Not only had she promised Josh she’d call, but she knew Max would want to know. Josh. She remembered their conversation on the plane and his faraway look when he’d spoken of his mother. The pain had shown on his face, even after all these years. The knot at the back of her throat pushed again as she forced herself out of the chair and to the phone.
Hannah answered on the second ring and said she was the only one home. Taylor rushed through the bad news, surprised when the tough old housekeeper started sniffling and then blew her nose. They didn’t know each other that well; the reaction seemed out of character. And what seemed even stranger were her parting words.
“Call Max after the funeral tomorrow, will ya, sweetie?”
Taylor paused a moment, then said, “Sure.”
When she hung up the phone and padded into her room, she wondered why she should call Max again. Maybe to talk about when she would be back to work.
The room down the hall from the hospital chapel was filled to capacity with food and those who had come to pay their respects.
Taylor accepted the sympathetic touches and hugs from hundreds, faces blurring together, kind words washing over her like rain that wasn’t wet, not touching her, not penetrating the cloak she wore around her pain. Dad stood to one side of her, his eyes red rimmed, his composure a thin facade. Michael no longer fought the tears. He bit his top lip and nodded acknowledgment to mourners, never saying a word, his light blue collar spotted with dark droplets.
Mercifully the day ended and the grief-stricken family returned to their little bungalow near the hospital. They reminisced about good times and dug out old photo albums, but eventually the men found solace in their rooms while Taylor sipped her lukewarm tea and stared at the phone on the kitchen wall. As much as the Malones had come to mean to her, Montana and the life she had made there seemed part of a distant past, as surreal as the events of the last couple of days.
Still, she had told Hannah she would call. So she did.
Hannah only said hello this time, before shuffling off to get Max, whose voice sounded as strained as her own.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” he said.
She could hear the pain in his voice and knew his words far transcended politeness. He cared about her mother; they had been friends. “I know.” She swallowed, hoping to keep the conversation short. “The flowers were beautiful. Thank the rest of the family for me...please?”
Max said nothing, the tension at the other end of the line nearly palpable. It was as if he were wary about speaking his mind, that there was something else he wanted to say and couldn’t. She decided it must be about work.
“I talked to Dad and Michael. We agreed it would be best for all of us to get back to work. They started an addition to someone’s house last week that needs a roof before it rains, and—”
“Take as much time as you need. I don’t want to rush you.”
“You’re not. I want to...have to keep busy.”
Max didn’t argue. In fact, he said nothing. “Max? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The pause, followed by a long sigh, told her there was. “Max?”
“You have enough on your plate—”
“Please. What is it?” She knew it wasn’t good, yet she had to know.
“It’s Josh—”
She sprang out of the chair and paced toward the sink. “What about Josh?”
“I didn’t want to trouble you with this, Taylor, but...well, he had an accident with his plane—”
“Is ..is he—”
“It looks like he’s going to pull through.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, but before she could relax he told her the rest.
“He’s banged up pretty bad, and—” Max paused, then blurted it out “—Taylor...he’s going to
