About the only thing salvageable was at the back of the car. When Brian saw a familiar bumper sticker and school logo on the trunk, his mouth dropped. He walked over as they removed a few remaining items from the back seat.

Later, he trudged up the steps to their apartment and inside. Melissa smiled and stood, turning off the TV.

“You need to sit back down,” Brian said.

“What’s wrong?”

He handed her a damaged school notebook with a name on the front.

“This is Kelly’s. Why are you showing it to me?”

“They brought a car to the salvage lot next door today. It was in really bad shape. And this was in it.”

Melissa stared at the notebook in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Melissa. I made a couple of calls. Kelly was driving it. Somebody swerved in front of her. Or she swerved. I’m not sure which. She didn’t make it.”

“That can’t be right. I just talked with her . . .”

Brian tried to show compassion. He wasn’t sure he did, but he tried. “She’s gone, Melissa. Her funeral is Saturday.”

She stared up at him. “No. We were going fishing. I told her we would go fishing again out at the lake. She wanted to know what was going on with me and I wouldn’t . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, and he hugged her until she stopped crying.

Brian parked at the edge of the cemetery and they watched the procession from his car. Vehicles lined the side of the road that led to a fresh grave. Men in suits carried Kelly’s casket. Though they were a distance from the site, he could see the family was bent in sorrow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Melissa in the seat next to him with a hand on her stomach. The baby was growing and Brian didn’t have any trouble feeling the movement now. A foot would press against the inside of Melissa’s womb and he’d see the imprint of that foot and those toes. They’d almost taken that life before it ever had a chance, and he closed his eyes at the thought.

The family and friends gathered around the grave and Melissa wept. Brian thought it was mostly due to the loss of her friend but there was also the isolation. Grieving was hard enough with others who could carry it with you, but doing it alone meant you carried a double load.

“I can’t help thinking what would have happened if I’d gone fishing or had her come see me. Maybe if we’d done some things together this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You can’t let yourself think like that. This is not your fault. You can’t control the bad that happens.”