yelled at Kris to turn the television down from sonic to just plain loud. Why did it always sound like kickoff time at a bowl game around here? A little quiet wouldn’t hurt anything. I picked an armload of books and toys on my way to the door, dumping them in a corner of the couch before reaching for the doorknob.
I opened the door to find two men dressed in dark uniforms standing there. One was Neil’s fire chief, John Miller, and the other was one of Neil’s closest station buddies, Ben Burgess. I smiled and started to speak when I saw the grief in both men’s expressions.
My smile faded.
John spoke first. “Kate…I’m sorry.”
Sorry? I cocked my head. For what? I gripped the edge of the door. My heart must have stopped beating for a second, because my body suddenly felt wooden, heavy. His mouth moved, but I heard only scattered words.
“Accident…fire…stairway collapsed…lost two men…Neil didn’t make it out. So sorry.”
Ben had his arm around me helping me to the sofa. My legs felt rubbery, like those foam tubes children use in swimming pools. Kelli and Kris were hanging on to me, begging me not to cry. I tried to reassure them, but my voice failed me. Someone was weeping in great gasping sobs that seemed to come from some deep well of grief. That wasn’t me, was it?
“The high rise wasn’t in his district,” I cried.
“Sorry, Kate, we were called in.”
I saw my daughters’ fearful faces through a veil of tears. They clung to me and I held them close. Neil… Oh, God…Neil. The words ran through my mind like a prayer, but if God answered I didn’t hear Him.
John sat across from me, rolling the brim of his hat in his hands. “Who’s your pastor, Kate?”
I stared at him, blank. I couldn’t remember the man’s name. I had heard him preach every Sunday for four years and I couldn’t remember his name.
“Joe Crockett,” Kris said.
I shook my head in amazement, thinking how smart she was. I had raised this kid—Neil was so proud of her…. Neil.
Then Pastor Crockett and his wife, Eva, arrived. Time had no meaning for me. Pastor Joe took my hand and I saw the compassion in his eyes and I started crying harder. Eva had her arms around Kelli and Kris, leading them from the room. I knew I had to get control of myself. My daughters needed me, but I couldn’t think. People talked to me and I answered or nodded, but it was as if I was watching some other woman sitting on the sofa shredding a tissue and trying to cope.
My pastor’s words came to me out of a fog. “Neil’s in heaven now with his Lord and Savior.”
I knew he meant well, but I wanted to lash out that I didn’t want him to be in heaven. I wanted him here, with me.
Oh, God…why? Had I told him I loved him and kissed him goodbye before he left this morning? I wished I could go back and relive that hurried departure. Hold him a moment longer, say everything I should have said.
Someone had called a doctor, and a man showed up, carrying a black bag. I remember answering his questions to the best of my knowledge, though I was operating in a fog. He shook out a couple of pills, and I swallowed them. He gave the bottle to Eva and reminded me to call him in the morning; I had only enough medication to last through the night. At the moment I couldn’t recall if I had a physician. Doctors scared me.
Eventually I stopped crying. The well had run dry. I sat on the sofa in a soggy, wilted lump, blissfully calm. The sedative had started to work.
Sunshine filtered through the bedroom lace curtains. The house had filled up with people, bearing meat loaves and casseroles. A woman I had met—and should have known—went on and on at great lengths in a stage whisper, apologizing for burning a roast.
A bubble of hysteria rose up in my throat, choking me. Burning a roast? When my husband, the love of my life, the father of my two precious children, had burned to death in a high-rise fire?
Neil’s parents arrived, and the situation intensified. Madge Madison threw her arms around me and leaned into me for support. Her tears soaked through my sweatshirt. I held her, rocking back and forth the way I did with my daughters when they were hurt.
His father, Harry, short and broad shouldered with a handsome head of white hair, seemed to have shrunk. His hands trembled as he reached out to touch my shoulder. I released my mother-in-law and went into his arms. He awkwardly patted my back, and for the first time I felt a small measure of comfort. Maybe because he reminded me of Neil. With Neil’s parents on either side of me, I walked into the kitchen where neighbors were serving coffee.
I stared at my kitchen counters, buried under a deluge of dishes. Salads and desserts and casseroles. How could three people—actually two if you counted Kris and Kelli as one—be expected to eat all of this? My ancient refrigerator was working in overdrive anyway.
Sue Carol, from my Sunday-school class, handed me a cup of coffee I didn’t want. What I wanted was to crawl off and lick my wounds and try to deal with the devastating blow, but I guess manners, once learned, go deeper than surface polish. I forced myself to speak to everyone who had taken the time to come and offer comforting words. It occurred to me that friends are one of the greatest unrecognized blessings, and you never fully appreciate them until your world crashes around you.
Eva made up the bed in the guest room for Neil’s parents. She was also the one who insisted everyone go home so I could rest. I stared helplessly around the kitchen at the surplus of food, not sure what to do with it all and too tired to care, but to my relief Sue and Eva managed to put away all of the perishables, then filled freezer containers and stashed them in the deep freeze for later.
I locked the door a little after eight o’clock, and turned out the front porch light. Neil’s parents had already gone to their room, worn out by the day’s emotions. Neil was their only son and the pride of their life. I didn’t see how any of us could go on without him.
Losing him had left a crater in my heart.
The girls followed me into my bedroom. Mine. Not ours any longer. Their eyes were red and swollen from crying. Kelli’s lower lip trembled. “Can I sleep with you?”
“Me, too,” Kris begged.
I didn’t hesitate. “Sure. I’d like that.” And I would. The thought of that empty bed had been hanging over my head like that sword of Damocles. Now I would have company.
I helped them into their nightgowns. We could skip baths tonight. I brushed Kris’s long, straight blond hair, a feature we shared, along with blue eyes, straight noses and peach complexions.
Kelli, on the other hand, was a miniature replica of Neil with her short cap of dark curls and warm brown eyes. I forced myself to concentrate on drawing the brush through Kris’s hair, willing my mind away from the way Neil and I had looked as a couple. My Nordic fairness offset by his dark hair and golden tan. His picture smiled at me from the dresser, held close by the silver frame. But Neil was gone.
I laid down the brush and kissed Kris lightly on the cheek. “Hop into bed, okay.”
The girls were docile tonight, none of the usual begging to be allowed to stay up late or demanding a story before they went to sleep.
