The Good Wife(12)

Thirty-four-year-old Lauren Summers laughed softly, a low, rough laugh. Pure irony.

At least she’d made it here. That was something. It’d been months and months since she’d come. But today . . . today she’d made the drive to the Napa cemetery from Alameda. No traffic. Ninety minutes. Easy.

More irony.

God, she was funny. Full of gallows humor. And why not? If you couldn’t laugh at yourself, what was left? Nothing. And nothing begets nothing . . . leaving one with . . . nothing.

Lauren ran her hands up and down and all around the steering wheel. Her stomach cramping, hurting, already wishing she hadn’t agreed to meet her parents here today.

She should have just met them in town for brunch. Gone somewhere public, somewhere loud, somewhere with lots of distractions. She still needed the distractions.

The air caught in her throat. Her eyes burned.

She missed him. Missed him so much. People said it’d get easier. People said it was just a matter of time.

Squeezing the steering wheel tightly, Lauren clamped her jaw, teeth grinding. She wasn’t going to lose it today. Wasn’t going to cry.

Blake had hated it when she cried. She remembered how as a little boy he’d put his fingers into the corners of her mouth and lift her lips. Smile, Mom.

The lump in her throat grew, filling her chest. She swallowed, hard. She wouldn’t crack. Today she was going to be strong. Today she was going to get out of her car, and walk across the expanse of grass to his grave and . . .

And then what?

Lauren frowned. What would she do once she reached his grave?

Her phone rang, breaking her concentration. Reaching for her phone, she saw it was her mom, Candy Summer. The family ranch was a fifteen-minute drive from the cemetery. Her parents were supposed to meet her here. They were all going to do this together. Visit Blake. Bring him flowers. Her mother had the flowers.

“How far away are you?” Candy asked.

“Still a little way out,” Lauren answered, needing more time. This wasn’t easy doing this . . . coming here. She hadn’t wanted to come. Her parents asked. They liked to come see Blake, their grandson. They didn’t understand that for her it was so much harder. Make that impossible.

He was just a boy.

How could she outlive her son?

“Did you hit traffic?” Candy asked, concerned.

Lauren closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun beating through the glass. “No.”

“But you left almost two hours ago.”

She couldn’t do this. Wasn’t ready to do this. “I’m turning around.” Her voice was low, tight. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start crying. “I’m heading home.”

“How far away are you?”

“I can’t do this, Mom. I can’t.”

“But we made plans.”

“You and Dad can still come. Bring the flowers—”

“Lauren.”

“I love you, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

“At least come to the house. Come see us. Have lunch with us.”

“I’m already on my way home. But I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

Lauren hung up quickly. She dropped the phone into her lap. She stared blindly out the window. Blake.

And then from nowhere a voice whispered, Love doesn’t end.

Tears prickled the back of her eyes. Lauren drew a slow, deep breath. That’s right, baby, she whispered. Love doesn’t end. And I will love you forever.

Lauren numbly started the car, eased into drive, and headed for home.

* * *

A half hour away in Santa Rosa, Jack and JJ remained at the house while Meg and Sarah took the younger kids to the Palm Sunday service.

Sarah secretly wished she had stayed behind, too. In Tampa, Sarah rarely went to Mass. Her kids didn’t attend Catholic school either, or Sunday school, and as she watched Ella and Brennan during the service, she knew they didn’t really understand what was going on. Over the summer her parents had talked to her about getting Ella and Brennan enrolled in her local parish programs, thinking that both children were of an age at which they’d benefit from Catholic education, but Sarah had been bored silly by her years of such schooling and wasn’t in a hurry to sign the kids up.

Now, as they fussed and whispered and stared up at the ceiling, she felt guilty for not doing more.

Maybe it was time her children learned more about their faith. Or maybe she’d continue to wait until Boone retired and they moved somewhere, and were settled somewhere, for good.

After Mass, they returned to the house, where Meg made brunch and the girls helped Sarah set the dining room table.

During the meal, Gabi and Ella talked about Easter next week, and dyeing eggs, while Meg’s son, JJ, said he was looking forward to Opening Day of baseball season on Thursday.