The Good Wife(7)
“I’m a hero?” he teased.
“You are,” she answered. “Absolutely. You’ve been there for Meg, and that’s what counts.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Meg told me how amazing you’ve been. You’ve canceled your trips to D.C., and you’ve been managing the house and kids so Meg could be with Mom as much as possible. That’s pretty cool.”
He shrugged uneasily. “I cared about your mom. And I care about Meg. It’s the least I can do.”
Sarah frowned, thrown by the way he said “I care about Meg.” It didn’t sound right. Shouldn’t he have said, “I love Meg”? “You and Meg okay?”
He hesitated. “What do you mean? As a couple?”
She nodded.
His shoulders twisted. “I don’t know. Things are what they are.”
That definitely did not sound good. “Still rocky?”
He made a face as he shrugged again. “We have our ups and downs. Sometimes it feels like more downs than ups.”
“But you haven’t thrown in the towel yet,” she said, trying to be encouraging.
“Not yet.”
“That’s good.”
“Is it?”
Sarah heard the weariness in his voice and her chest tightened. “I think so,” she answered, knowing that she and Boone had been through a difficult couple of years, but she couldn’t imagine life without him. He was as important to her as oxygen—not that her sisters thought she should love any man that much. “Boone always says—” She broke off as Kit entered the kitchen carrying Ella, who was crying inconsolably.
“There’s your mommy,” Kit crooned, kissing Ella’s wet, flushed cheek. “I told you we’d find her. Your mommy didn’t go anywhere. No need to cry. She’s right here talking to Uncle Jack.”
“Come here, baby,” Sarah said, taking her daughter from Kit. “What’s wrong? Why such a sad face?”
“I want Daddy,” Ella wailed. “I want my house. I want to go home. And I hate Brennan. He’s so mean.”
Checking her smile, Sarah cuddled her five-year-old. “What did Brennan do this time, sweet pea?”
“He said he was going to bury me like Grandma—”
“He’s not!” Sarah interrupted, looking at Kit over her daughter’s head. “That’s a terrible thing for him to say.”
“I told him the same thing,” Kit said with mock sternness, her blue eyes warm. “He’s with Dad, having a time-out in the dining room right now.”
“I don’t want to get buried!” Great crocodile tears rolled down Ella’s face. “I don’t want to be covered up with dirt. Why did they cover Grandma with dirt?”
“Because Grandma died,” Sarah said gently.
“And so she went to heaven to be with God and Jesus and Mary and all the saints and angels,” Meg added, entering the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe.
“Is Grandma with angels now?” Ella asked, looking into her mother’s eyes.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, and they’re going to keep Grandma company and make sure she won’t be lonely.”
Ella reached up to touch Sarah’s face, her small hand gentle on her mother’s cheek. “Can we go see her?”
“Someday.” Sarah kissed Ella. “But not now, because Daddy would miss us, and Grandpa needs us. Maybe we should go see Grandpa now?”
“And then we can go home?”
“Not to our house. But maybe to Aunt Meg and Uncle Jack’s. We’re staying with Aunt Meg and Uncle Jack for a few nights, remember?”
“Without Daddy?”
“Daddy had to go back to Tampa, but we’ll see him in a few days.”
“I want to go home now.”
“I think you’re tired, sweetheart. I know I’m tired. It’s been a really long day.” Sarah glanced at Meg, and then Jack. “Do you think we could leave soon?”
Meg glanced at Jack, and he nodded.
“I’ll round up the kids,” Meg said. “Let Dad know we’re leaving.”
“Great.” Sarah kissed Ella’s cheek, snuggling her closer, needing her sweet girl’s warmth tonight. “I’ll get Brennan and we’ll say our good-byes.”
Two
An hour and a half later, Sarah was in her pajamas in bed in the guest room on the second floor of Meg and Jack’s big shingled house in Santa Rosa. Ella slept next to her, and eight-year-old Brennan was on the floor in his sleeping bag, wearing headphones and watching a movie on his laptop.
“Need anything?” Meg asked, hovering in the doorway. “Water, tea, something to eat?”