She had no idea how long she stood there, but by the time she leaned over and kissed Gran’s papery cheek, sunlight had eased through the sheer curtains, lighting the room. It surprised Tully, that brightness. Without Gran, it seemed this room should be dark.

“Come on, Tully,” she said.

There were things she was supposed to do now; she knew that. She and Gran had talked about this, done things to prepare. Tully knew, though, that no words could have really prepared her for this.

She went over to Gran’s nightstand, where a pretty rosewood box sat beneath the photo of Grandpa and alongside the battalion of medications.

She lifted the lid, feeling vaguely like a thief, but Gran expected this of her. When I go Home, Gran always said, I’ll leave you something in the box Grandpa bought me.

Inside, laying atop the cluster of inexpensive jewelry that Tully could rarely remember her Grandmother wearing, was a folded piece of pink paper with Tully’s name written on it.

Slowly, she reached out, took the letter, and opened it.

My dearest Tully—

I am so sorry. I know how afraid you are of being alone, of being left behind, but God has His plan for all of us. I would have stayed with you longer if I could have. Your grandfather and I will always be watching out for you from Heaven. You will never be alone if you believe in that.

You were the greatest joy of my life.

Love, Gran

Were.

Gran was gone.

________

Tully stood outside the church, watching the crowd of elderly people stream past her. A few of Gran’s friends recognized her and came over to offer their condolences.

I’m so sorry dear . . .

. . . but she’s in a better place . . .

. . . with her beloved Winston.

. . . wouldn’t want you to cry.

She took as much of it as she could because she knew Gran would have wanted that, but by eleven o’clock, she was ready to scream. Didn’t any of the well-wishers see, didn’t they realize that Tully was a seventeen-year-old girl, dressed in black and all alone in the world?

If only Katie and the Mularkeys were here, but she had no idea how to reach them in Canada, and since they wouldn’t be home for two days, she had to endure this alone. With them beside her, a pretend family, maybe she would have made it through the service.

Without them, she simply couldn’t do it. Instead of sitting through the terrible, heart-wrenching memories of Gran, she got up in the middle of the funeral and walked out.

Outside, in the hot August sunlight, she could breathe again, even though the tears were always near to the surface, as was the pointless query, How could you leave me like this?

Surrounded by dusty old-model land yachts, she tried not to cry. Mostly, she tried not to remember, or to worry about what would happen to her.