“As survivors,” Brenda says, “we often feel responsible for the death of our loved ones. We feel like we should’ve known what they were thinking. We blame ourselves for not seeing the signs, for not acting quickly enough. But we need to understand and accept that we did the best we could at the time. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But it’s also hypothetical. The only real thing was the situation each of us faced. After all, no one here ever wanted their loved one to die.” Brenda pauses, allowing time for the truth to sink in through the thick crust of hurt that covers each of them. “So,” she continues, “the next time you feel the guilt and anger starting to creep up again, tell yourself that you did your best. You did all you could do at the time.”

“That sounds good,” Hawthorn says. “But the problem is, it wasn’t enough.”

Brenda grins at him, dimly, sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything, because he is right, and there are no words she can offer to make that truth singe any less. It can only be borne like the other burdens that come with this loss.

“Hawk,” Brenda says. “What you mentioned about your sister sounding better when you last spoke to her? That isn’t unusual. For some people, once they’ve made up their mind, a kind of relief sets in, and for a while things can seem like they’re improving.”

“No more losing the war.”

“Which of course only makes their deaths even more shocking to those of us left behind. Our guards were down. We blame ourselves for not being more vigilant.”