they married into. Calvin’s eyes had been similar to his grandmother’s; her own were less so. Still, she had the height and bones.
Her mother smiled as she approached. “You feeling better?”
“Wish everyone would stop asking me that,” she said softly, knowing she sounded bitter, and totally unconcerned about her mother’s friend still within earshot.
“We’re going to worry whether you want us to or not. Don’t forget, I lost a grandbaby, Estelle a nephew, Joe a great-nephew. We’re hurting, too, and we can imagine, if only a little bit, what’s going on with you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so…” Lacey stopped.
“Angry?” her mother offered, taking her arm, guiding her to an unoccupied corner. Once there, her mother reached out a finger and touched her cheek. “That’s normal, Lacey. Still, maybe you should talk to somebody, someone other than family.”
“You mean a psychiatrist?”
“Or at least a grief counselor. And don’t pooh-pooh the idea before you’ve had a chance to think it through. This isn’t going to go away just by going through the motions. Lace, you need to speak with someone about the whole grief process, not only what you’re going through today, but how you’ll be feeling a month from now. And I suspect anger is only a small part of it. As much as I loved Calvin, he was your son. I’ve never lost a child, can’t even begin to imagine it.” Her mother’s eyes welled up. “Oh, my sweet baby.” She grabbed Lacey into a tight hug.
The air seemed stagnant, stifling all of a sudden. Despite the chill outside, the room felt as though someone had turned up the thermostat past eighty. She needed to get away from this room with everybody fawning over her like a child. An irrepressible need to scream was growing in her belly, threatening to erupt. She was scared she was going to lose it again. If she did, her mother wouldn’t just be recommending a psychiatrist, but an actual stay in a mental facility.
“I’m going to step out back, get some air,” she announced unceremoniously as she freed herself from her mother’s arms and strode away. She cut through the living room, ignoring the curious looks. The kitchen was empty; she didn’t know where Estelle and Mrs. Hampton had gone. There were so many rooms in this house where people could disappear to. She and Darryl had bought it over twenty years ago with the hope they would fill every room with children. That hadn’t happened.
Lacey opened and closed the back door behind her, immediately regretting not grabbing her coat. Still, the biting air chilled the hysteria that had been about to overtake her again. She stood there on the wraparound porch, breathing in cold air, grateful for a moment of solitude. The wooden gate along the large yard’s perimeter provided some privacy. She gazed at her daylilies, planted just a few weeks ago along the foot of the gate. They were starting to wilt with the cold snap.
She took in another deep breath and realized she smelled a whiff of nicotine. She turned in the direction of the odor. Around the corner of the porch, a white trail of smoke drifted above one of her rose bushes.
“Hello?” she called out.
For a few seconds, she thought the person either hadn’t heard her or was refusing to answer. Then a figure stepped from around the corner. She stared as Sean approached the porch, the offensive cigarette not evident. She hoped he hadn’t thrown it in a bush.
From the vantage of the porch, she felt much taller than he, as though no years had passed since he was a ten-year-old coming over to ask if Calvin could come outside. He had been a beautiful child, with an adrogyny that could have gone too far to the feminine except for strong bones and a constant surliness. The illusion of the ten-year-old was quickly dispelled as Sean climbed the steps two at a time. Standing next to her, he easily had the advantage of a few inches. No longer gangly, he wasn’t overly broad either. He had that combination college-surfer boy look that probably drew many girls (and women) to him. She noted that he was still beautiful without the androgyny that had marked his early years. The surliness was gone, too. But the light blue eyes were the same, so pale they were almost slate. He seemed bulkier in the short woolen coat he wore over his dark suit.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” she said, self-conscious that she was out in the cold without a coat. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Are you OK?”
“You know, I wish people would stop asking me that!”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’re only asking because they don’t know what else to say. There’s nothing meaningful you can say, especially when…well…” He dug his hands in his coat pockets, focused his eyes on a point behind her. That was so Sean-like, not ever really looking people in the eye.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I just feel like everyone’s judging me because of what happened at the cemetery. Like I’m some loony toon.”
“Nobody even thought that. You were grief-stricken, that’s all.” A pause. “I’m…I’m sorry I wasn’t here when…I’m sorry for a lot of things.”
He seemed so sad right then, as though he were about to cry. But then he sturdied his posture, visibly throwing off the grief.
Now, she felt the need to comfort. She reached over and touched his arm. “Sean, Calvin considered you a good friend. I don’t know what happened…what argument or falling-out you two had, and it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure if Cal was still here, he’d be so glad to see you.”
Instead of the sadness easing, it seemed to deepen, causing his eyes to darken, pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said, so softly she wasn’t certain she had heard him right.
“Sean, what did happen between you two? Did you fight over some girl?”
He pulled his arm away, not abruptly but firmly, indicating his unwillingness to answer or be queried any further. She thought he would head back into the house or just leave the porch, but he stood there looking uncertain, still not looking at her.
“How’s Joan doing?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t seen Sean’s mother at the services or the burial.
“She’s fine. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t fly in. She’s a manager at a health-care clinic in Vancouver. It’s pretty hectic right now, so she couldn’t get the time off.”
“I understand. I do miss her, though.” She smiled. “I especially miss our coffee clatches. She made the best coffee cakes.”
A corner of his mouth went up. “Yeah, she still likes to bake. She does a lot of it when she’s not at the clinic. She’s put on some weight, too.”
“Now, you know better than to mention a woman’s weight. We middle-aged mothers…” She paused, remembering. “Anyway, we don’t like to be reminded that we don’t look like the svelte young chicks we once were.”
“You still do,” he said quietly.
“Oh, Sean, that’s sweet. But I’m afraid age has caught up with me.”
“I don’t think so. You’re still as beautiful as the first time I saw you.” She realized he was finally looking at her, a direct, pale gaze that seemed to skewer her to the spot. She felt uneasy under the scrutiny,
