So yes. I thought I knew Pain before. I thought I knew Loss.
But those two ruthless bitches were just getting started with me.
THIRTY-SIX
BIANCA
It was raining when we touched down in New Orleans, the sky the same ugly lead gray as my soul.
I didn’t know why I felt so numb. Shock, I suppose. In any case, I was grateful for the way all my senses were dulled, because I knew there were a thousand invisible knives of anguish hovering all around me, hungry for their moment to slash and draw blood.
They’d get their moment, of that I was sure. But for now I was safe in a cocoon of soft white noise where nothing could reach me. Not even the torment in Jackson’s eyes.
His engagement ring was a cold, heavy weight on my finger, a constant reminder of the bargain we’d made, and why.
I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t face any more harsh realities today. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other and keep breathing.
When we arrived at Mama’s house, I could barely even do that.
“I’ve got you,” said Jackson when I stepped out of the car and almost fell. He put his arm around my waist and half dragged, half carried me up the steps and into the house. Eeny was there, her face streaked with dried tears, which got a fresh coat the minute she laid eyes on me.
“Boo!” she wailed, and crushed me into her embrace.
“It’s okay,” I whispered into her bosom. “We’re going to be okay.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince, her or myself.
A young redheaded woman in pale-blue scrubs stood by the sofa, wringing her hands. “Miss Hardwick,” she murmured, moving closer. “I’m Jennifer Wright, from Home Angels Health Care. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Home Angels. I supposed they were the company Jackson hired. I struggled to focus on her voice as she continued to speak.
“I was assigned the afternoon shift. Gina, who was here in the morning, said your mother was resting comfortably when she left at noon. She had a little lunch, then went to take a nap. Then she must’ve . . .” Jennifer didn’t know how to politely say it, so she skipped ahead. “Apparently Eeny arrived just before I did, at four.”
Eeny clung to me, her tears wetting my neck. “She looked like she was sleepin’! So peaceful, like an angel—”
She dissolved into a fresh round of weeping. Jennifer chewed on her lower lip and increased the speed of her hand wringing.
Realizing he was the only capable person in the room, Jackson went into efficiency mode. “The paramedics were called?” he asked Jennifer, sounding like he might snap her in two if she answered incorrectly.
“Yes,” she peeped, going pale. “They tried to resuscitate her. When that failed, they asked if we wanted to transfer Mrs. Hardwick to the hospital or make arrangements with a funeral home to pick up her remains here.”
Her remains. I almost fainted, but held myself up through sheer strength of will, gritting my teeth against the sob rising in the back of my throat.
Jennifer hurried on. “Eeny and I thought it would be best if Mrs. Hardwick stayed where she was until her daughter arrived. I hope that was all right?”
“Yes,” I said faintly. I pulled out of Eeny’s embrace and nodded at Jennifer, who looked frightened that she might have done something wrong. “Thank you, Jennifer.” I looked down the hallway at the closed door of Mama’s bedroom.
Noticing the direction of my gaze, Jackson gently settled his hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to . . . ?”
“No,” I said. “I want a minute alone with her, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Take all the time you need. I’ll call Robertson’s Funeral Home and get the arrangements started, unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather—”
“That’s fine,” I whispered, already moving away. It didn’t make a difference what company took Mama’s body. The parts of her that mattered were already gone.
Steeling my nerves, I hesitated a moment with my hand on the door before going in. The only other dead person I’d ever seen was my father, and he’d died when I was young enough to understand death but not be terrified of it. I didn’t know how I’d react to seeing Mama lying lifelessly in her bed, and I said a silent prayer I’d be able to withstand it.
The door creaked open. The room was dim, lit only with the lamp on the table beside the bed. The air was cool and still and smelled faintly of Mama’s perfume.
I crept over to the bed with my heart pounding, terror closing around my throat like a hangman’s noose. When I grew nearer and saw the serene expression on Mama’s face, the terror faded away like a tide receding, and I could breathe again.