Chapter 4
Claire
We pulled into the driveway.
The house was too quiet.
I frowned slightly and parked. Jenny’s car was not there.
I unbuckled Lily and we stepped out into the mild afternoon. The wind moved through the trees, rustling leaves against the fence.
“Do you know where your mom went?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “Did she say anything this morning?”
Lily shook her head, curls bouncing. “Nope.”
She paused, then her eyes widened with sudden inspiration.
“We should go to Grandma and Grandpa’s,” she announced happily. “Mommy might be there.”
I smiled, even as a small knot tightened in my stomach. “You just want an excuse to go there.”
She grinned, unashamed.
We got back into the car.
Their house came into view quickly, the familiar shape of it offering a strange comfort. Bill’s truck was in the driveway. Emma’s car beside it.
Relief flickered through me.
Inside, the front room was empty. The television was off.
“The back door’s open,” I murmured.
We walked through the kitchen and out onto the patio.
Bill looked up just as Lily broke free of my hand and ran toward him.
“Grandpa!” she shouted.
He barely had time to brace himself before she launched into his arms. He laughed as he caught her, lifting her easily despite his recent illness.
“Well, look at that,” he said warmly. “My favorite granddaughter.”
Lily giggled, delighted. “I’m your only granddaughter.”
He pretended to think it over. “Even so. Still my favorite.”
She laughed harder as he smoothed a hand over her hair, his expression soft and full of affection.
He set her down and she ran off toward Emma, who was seated near the garden.
I took the moment to speak quietly. “Have you seen Jenny or Matt today? They didn’t pick Lily up.”
His brow furrowed. “No. They didn’t mention anything.”
Coldness slid into my chest.
“That’s strange,” I said carefully.
Jenny did not forget things like that. My best friend was too much of a control freak to be forgetful.
Before I could say more, Bill’s phone rang.
He excused himself, disappearing through the open door.
Emma turned to me, smiling gently. “How’s Lily doing in school?”
“She’s wonderful,” I said honestly. “Thoughtful and curious. She notices when other kids are upset and even tries to help.”
Emma’s smile widened with pride.
We watched Lily in the yard, chasing a butterfly with complete focus, her laughter ringing out clear and bright.
Bill came back outside.
The phone was still in his hand.
His face was gray.
He didn’t speak at first. He lowered himself into the rocking chair like his legs had stopped working. His shoulders slumped forward, the weight of something unseen pressing him down.
Emma stood abruptly. “Bill? What is it?”
He looked at her, and the expression in his eyes sent a chill straight through me. I had never seen him look like that.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, her voice rising. “Who was that? Was it Ethan?”
The sound of Ethan’s name froze me where I stood. Every muscle locked.
Bill shook his head slowly.
For a split second, I felt something unexpected. Gratitude. Sharp and guilty. Thankfulness that whatever had happened did not involve him.
Then Bill spoke.
“It was Matt,” he said, his voice breaking. “And Jenny.”
The world tilted.
“They were in an accident,” he continued, the words thick, as if each one cost him effort. “A pileup. On the highway, they didn’t make it.”
Emma stared at him, her face empty. “No,” she said. “No, your wrong.”
He swallowed hard. “They called as soon as they could identify them. There were a lot of casualties. They’re still working on the scene.”
My hand shot out blindly and caught the railing beside me. The wood felt unreal under my fingers.
Emma shook her head over and over. “That doesn’t make sense. Why were they there? They would have called. They would have told us if they were going somewhere.”
Her legs gave out. She dropped to her knees in the grass, her hands pressed together as if in prayer, though no words came.
The air felt thin. Distant. I could hear my own breathing, loud and uneven, like it came from faraway.
Then a small voice cut through it all.
“Grandma?”
Lily stood at the edge of the patio, her face confused, her eyes moving between the adults.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
No one answered.
Bill stared at the ground. Emma covered her mouth with her hands, her shoulders shaking.
I looked at Lily, at the child who had lost everything in a single sentence, and felt something inside me fracture.
The yard was quiet. Except for the tinkling of the windchimes swaying in the light breeze.
The weight of what had just happened settled over us, pressing down on every breath I took.