“I’m afraid not.”

“Mom and I shared closure when I saw her. Guess that’s the best way to remember her. I appreciate your call.”

Alone in my home, I shed tears for losing my mother, for the heartache I’d caused her. For the love and nurturing she’d given me while I was growing up.

Contemplating a walk in the woods, among the sweetness of nature drew me outside. I carried Joy into the canopied shade. Like a child who refused to be comforted, I cried into her silky coat. Talking to Edie tempted me, but the idea of her hearing me sob didn’t sit well. I missed Amy-Jo too and her no-nonsense approach to life.

Marissa texted me about Mom’s passing and canceling tomorrow’s meetup. The idea of Aria and her in danger tore at my protective nature.

The funeral is Friday morning. I’ll check in before the weekend is over to reschedule.

Be safe.

I will. Dad’s in bad shape. Losing Mom was hard for all of us.

Do you need to talk?

Thanks. Aria is upset and needs me. She and Mom were close.

The idea of Dad requesting to take Aria on a vacation after Mom passed tormented me. I once believed my dad held more integrity in the palm of his hand than most people ever acquired in a lifetime, and I couldn’t shake it loose now.

49

Edie had become more than a good friend—she was my sister-friend. Thursday morning, her condolences about Mom’s entrance into heaven touched me like the love I shared with Marissa.

“I know the funeral’s tomorrow,” she said. “Sheriff Wendall stopped by my office with the news. I can only imagine how badly you want to be there. The sheriff said you learned about it yesterday. He’d have called me sooner, but he had to be in Houston for a trial.”

“Thanks.” The lump in my throat thickened.

“Wish I could see you. But we can still talk, and I’m a good listener.”

We shared mom memories from her life and mine. We exchanged a few tears and laughter in the process. Loved my sister-friend.

“You’ve been down,” she said. “Anything I can do to help? Life’s hit you with too many obstacles.”

More like bullets. “It will get better. Is Amy-Jo still staying with you?”

“Yes. She’s a character. Offered to teach me how to shoot. I think I’ll take her up on it.”

“Good idea.” I put away laundry while we talked. “What else is going on with you?”

“My kids thought a real-life nightmare was funny.”

“Nightmares are never funny. What happened?”

“Laugh, and I’ll be knocking on your door. Last night I walked into my bedroom, ready for my pajamas. A bat flew over my head and I screamed. It flew past me again. Trust me, I hit the hysterical level. Timothy came running. All I could do was point to the ceiling fan, where the bat perched on a blade.”

“Timothy took care of it?”