“Why should I forgive her? She left us because he didn’t want her anymore? She came home and took all those pills because she was tired?”
“Naomi”
“No, no! Don’t make excuses. You’re the police. You didn’t know her, you don’t know me or any of us. But you know what this is?” She threw the bag on her bed, fisted her hands as if she could fight something. “It’s what a coward does. He killed her. He killed her just like he killed all those other women. But they didn’t have a choice. She did. She let it happen. She let him kill her when we were all right here.”
“You’re right. I think you’re right. But there are other means of torture besides physical. I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you I think you have a right to be angry. You have a right to be mad as hell. When some of the mad wears off, I hope you’ll talk to someone.”
“Another therapist. I’m done with that. Done. A lot of good it did her.”
“You’re not your mother. But if you don’t want to talk to a therapist, to a friend, to a priest, to your uncle.” She took a card out of her pocket. “You can talk to me.”
“You’re the second cop who’s given me a card and said that.”
“Did you talk to the other cop?”
“We moved away.”
“Well.” Rossini set the card on Naomi’s dresser, then walked over and picked up the evidence bag. “Cops are good listeners. Detective Angela Rossini. Anytime.”
So three days later, Naomi put on the black dress. She used the curling iron because her mother had liked it best when she wore her hair long with some waves in it. She didn’t give any of her angry words to Sethhe looked sickly and shaken. She didn’t give them to Mason, not with the hollow look in his eyes. Or to Harry, who seemed to need to tend to all of them at once.
She kept them inside, where they crawled through her like fiery ants, and went to the restaurant.
They’d closed for the day to hold the memorial. Harry had done most of the workinsisted on it. Putting out flowers and photos, choosing music, preparing food.
Her grandparents came. She and Mason saw them several times a year since they’d moved out of Pine Meadows, and it hadn’t taken long to understand that all the hard things their father had said about their mother’s parents had been more lies.
They were kind and lovingforgiving, she thought. They’d forgiven the daughter who’d cut them out of her life and kept their only grandchildren from them. They’d paid for all the therapy, and neverat least not in her hearingsaid an unkind word about their daughter.
They never spoke of Thomas David Bowes.
Everyone who worked at the restaurant came, and so many of Seth’s and Harry’s friends. Some of her teachers, some of Mason’s came. Some parents brought some of their friends, at least for a short time.
And Detective Rossini came.
“I didn’t know the police came to funerals like this.”
“I wanted to pay my respects. And to see how you were doing.”
“I’m all right. It’s hardest, I think, on my uncle. Even harder than it is on my grandparents. He thought he could save her. He thought he had. He tried, every day. Harry, he tried, too. But right now he’s mostly worried about his Seth. About Mason and me, too, but mostly about his Seth. Harry worked hard to put all this together, to make it look so nice, to try to make it that celebration of life people talk about. But she didn’t have much of a life to celebrate.”
“I think you’re wrong. She had you and Mason, and that’s a celebration.”
“That’s a nice thing to say.”
“It’s a true thing. Did you take that picture?”
Naomi glanced at the photo of her mother dancing with Seth. “How did you know?”
“I’m the police.” Rossini smiled a little. “It’s a happy moment, and you knew how to capture it. But that’s my favorite.”
Rossini stepped over to the photo Naomi had taken with a timer. Her mother flanked by her children. Harry had set it in front of a big vase of pink roses, because her mother had favored pink.
“You can see she was proud of you and your brother.”
“Is that what you see?”
“Yes. Cops are good listeners, and they’re trained observers. She was proud. Hold on to that. I have to get back to work.”
“Thank you for coming,” Naomi said, as she’d said to everyone.
Surprised, she stood where she was as Mark Ryder came up to her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
He was tall, great-looking with big brown eyes, glossy hair that curled just the right amount at the ends.