around when you were in college?” she asked.
CHAPTER FIVE
O n Monday, they closed the schools for Jonah Ward’s funeral.
An hour before the service was scheduled to begin, Alexa still couldn’t decide what to do. “I need to go,” she said to Suki over a glass of orange juice she wasn’t drinking. “Everyone’ll be there.”
“Then we’ll go together.” Suki nibbled at her dry toast. “As a family. Grandpa and Kyle will come, too.”
“But what if Brendan’s there? Or Devin? What will I say to them?”
Suki reached to take her daughter’s hand, but Alexa yanked it away and stared at Suki as if it were her fault this was happening. Suki tried to think of how she would advise a patient to handle a similar situation, but as was so often true when she tried to apply her training to her personal life, she drew a blank. “No one will blame you for staying home,” she finally said.
“And Mrs. Ward,” Alexa said as if Suki hadn’t spoken. “What if I have to talk to Mrs. Ward?”
“You won’t have to talk to anyone,” Suki tried again. “We’ll go late and leave early.”
Without a word, Alexa stood and left the room.
Suki called Phyllis, hoping they could go to the funeral together, but Phyllis had a meeting downtown—she was a deputy commissioner for the department of motor vehicles and all the state’s deputies met to one-up each other on the last Monday of every month. Phyllis offered to skip the meeting, but Phyllis was in line for commissioner and Suki would have no part of it. When she called Jen, Jen was already with a patient. Suki wished she had the money to fly Julie in from California. There were others she could call, but she didn’t. Instead, she dressed and went in to see what Alexa had decided. Alexa was seated on her bed in a dirty T-shirt. Suki went to the funeral alone.
Driving her father’s car to the church, she couldn’t stop thinking of Darcy Ward, and allowed herself the tears she knew she could not cry at the funeral. Suki understood her position to be awkward, that she couldn’t squeeze Darcy’s hand and dab at her eyes as she might have done if Alexa had stayed home Friday night. But she wanted Darcy to know that she, too, was grieving for her. That she understood there was no pain greater than Darcy’s.
Suki slipped into the church just as the organ began to play. The small chapel was packed, and as she settled into the dimness of a back pew she felt, rather than saw, a wave of restless motion. She looked up to see a swell of faces twisting toward her. She nodded to Andrea and Marcy from her book group, to Louise and Arthur from the Friends of the Library, to Mr. Quinn, who managed the Stop and Shop. She tried to smile at Pat Hosansky, who headed up the education and technology commission she’d been a member of for years, but it felt like a grimace. Pat and Andrea smiled sadly at her and Louise fluttered her fingers in a small wave, then they turned quickly to the front of the church. The others did the same.
Suki’s eyes followed theirs to the casket. It stood before the altar, raised above the mourners in the first row, open. Jonah’s shoulders rested against creamy satin and even from where she sat, she could see that his face was waxy and overly made-up. In direct antithesis to the cliché, he neither looked asleep nor at peace. He looked dead.
Suki closed her eyes against the sight, against the reality it proclaimed. She knew Jonah was dead. She would have thought no single fact could be clearer to her. But she was acutely aware that up to this moment, she had only understood his death on an abstract level. The horror of it, the truth of it, now lay in that copper box.
She searched the crowd for Ellery McKinna, knowing that he, too, would be compelled to come, wondering what he must be feeling as he tried to reconcile his lies with the reality of Jonah’s lifeless body, the false defense of his son with Darcy’s grief. Ellery was prominently
CHAPTER FIVE
O n Monday, they closed the schools for Jonah Ward’s funeral.
An hour before the service was scheduled to begin, Alexa still couldn’t decide what to do. “I need to go,” she said to Suki over a glass of orange juice she wasn’t drinking. “Everyone’ll be there.”
“Then we’ll go together.” Suki nibbled at her dry toast. “As a family. Grandpa and Kyle will come, too.”
“But what if Brendan’s there? Or Devin? What will I say to them?”
Suki reached to take her daughter’s hand, but Alexa yanked it away and stared at Suki as if it were her fault this was happening. Suki tried to think of how she would advise a patient to handle a similar situation, but as was so often true when she tried to apply her training to her personal life, she drew a blank. “No one will blame you for staying home,” she finally said.
“And Mrs. Ward,” Alexa said as if Suki hadn’t spoken. “What if I have to talk to Mrs. Ward?”
“You won’t have to talk to anyone,” Suki tried again. “We’ll go late and leave early.”
Without a word, Alexa stood and left the room.
Suki called Phyllis, hoping they could go to the funeral together, but Phyllis had a meeting downtown—she was a deputy commissioner for the department of motor vehicles and all the state’s deputies met to one-up each other on the last Monday of every month. Phyllis offered to skip the meeting, but Phyllis was in line for commissioner and Suki would have no part of it. When she called Jen, Jen was already with a patient. Suki wished she had the money to fly Julie in from California. There were others she could call, but she didn’t. Instead, she dressed and went in to see what Alexa had decided. Alexa was seated on her bed in a dirty T-shirt. Suki went to the funeral alone.
Driving her father’s car to the church, she couldn’t stop thinking of Darcy Ward, and allowed herself the tears she knew she could not cry at the funeral. Suki understood her position to be awkward, that she couldn’t squeeze Darcy’s hand and dab at her eyes as she might have done if Alexa had stayed home Friday night. But she wanted Darcy to know that she, too, was grieving for her. That she understood there was no pain greater than Darcy’s.
Suki slipped into the church just as the organ began to play. The small chapel was packed, and as she settled into the dimness of a back pew she felt, rather than saw, a wave of restless motion. She looked up to see a swell of faces twisting toward her. She nodded to Andrea and Marcy from her book group, to Louise and Arthur from the Friends of the Library, to Mr. Quinn, who managed the Stop and Shop. She tried to smile at Pat Hosansky, who headed up the education and technology commission she’d been a member of for years, but it felt like a grimace. Pat and Andrea smiled sadly at her and Louise fluttered her fingers in a small wave, then they turned quickly to the front of the church. The others did the same.
Suki’s eyes followed theirs to the casket. It stood before the altar, raised above the mourners in the first row, open. Jonah’s shoulders rested against creamy satin and even from where she sat, she could see that his face was waxy and overly made-up. In direct antithesis to the cliché, he neither looked asleep nor at peace. He looked dead.
Suki closed her eyes against the sight, against the reality it proclaimed. She knew Jonah was dead. She would have thought no single fact could be clearer to her. But she was acutely aware that up to this moment, she had only understood his death on an abstract level. The horror of it, the truth of it, now lay in that copper box.
She searched the crowd for Ellery McKinna, knowing that he, too, would be compelled to come, wondering what he must be feeling as he tried to reconcile his lies with the reality of Jonah’s lifeless body, the false defense of his son with Darcy’s grief. Ellery was prominently
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