He gathered them all into the apartment. Beau immediately switched on the television.
“Hey, bud, turn that off, please. Let’s get supper going. You guys go wash your hands, okay?”
Beau complied, following his sisters down the hallway to the bathroom. Wade followed but stopped in front of Starr’s bedroom. He looked through the doorway. Her bed was neatly made, as always, and the faint, musky scent of her perfume assaulted him. His legs threatened to buckle under him. He leaned against the doorpost, gathering his strength, sucking in air.
He heard water running in the bathroom, and the kids straggled from the bathroom one by one.
He went back to the kitchen with them and doled out assignments. “Beau, you and Lacey get the dishes down. Dani, you can help set the table.” He pulled open cupboard doors, one after another, looking for something easy he knew how to make.
He should have stopped for pizza, but in a town the size of Coyote, he was bound to run into someone he knew. The news of Starr’s death would be hitting the streets by now, and he could not face the sympathy and questions it would bring. Not yet.
Besides, it seemed wrong somehow that they were going about the business of life––making supper, as though it were an ordinary day. What would people think if they could see him now, acting as if everything were the same, as if his whole world hadn’t just crashed at his feet the way Starr had crumpled on that floor?
He pulled two boxes from the cupboard over the stove. “How does mac and cheese sound?”
“I’m not hungry,” Beau said.
Wade tousled his spiked hair. “I know, bud. I’m not very hungry either, but we need to eat. The girls, too. Your mama wouldn’t like it if you guys skipped supper.”
He checked the instructions on the box and put a pan of water on the stove to boil. “See what you can find in the refrigerator to go with this, would you, Lacey?”
She tugged the door open and came out with a large container of applesauce cradled in both hands.
“Perfect. Did you put spoons on the table? We’ll need spoons for that.”
Lacey nodded. Wade wasn’t sure how long he could stand to look into their hollow, grief-stricken eyes.
When the macaroni was finished, he scooped generous helpings onto Starr’s everyday Melamine plates and helped the girls with their chairs.
“Let’s pray,” he said, stretching his hands out to Danica and Lacey on either side of him. It was something Starr had started, holding hands around the table while they prayed. It had made them seem like a family. Tonight it only emphasized the gaping hole she’d left.
He waited for the children to bow their heads, then did likewise. “Heavenly Father, this is…a very sad day for us––” His voice wavered and he willed it to steady. “We ask you to help us get through this time. Father, we know you loved Starr even more than we did. We know she’s with you now, and for that we thank you. But––”
There was a loud scraping of chair legs on linoleum. He looked up to see Beau slide off his chair and run from the room. Lacey and Danica looked to Wade to see what he would do.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Beau just needs to be by himself for a while.” He bowed his head again. “Help us, Jesus. Get us through these next hard days. Be with us. Amen.”
“You forgot the food,” Lacey said, nodding toward her plate of congealed macaroni.
It would have been funny any other night. But Lacey’s voice quivered and her blue eyes brimmed. Wade thought he would lose it if she let those tears spill over. Quickly, he bowed his head again, trying to keep his tone light. “Um, sorry, Lord. I guess I forgot something. Please bless this food for the use of our bodies. Amen.”
He raised his head but avoided looking into any Starr-like eyes. Shoveling a forkful of tasteless macaroni into his mouth, he watched Dani from the corner of his eye. She picked up her fork with her right hand, and with her left, she beaded a piece of orange macaroni on each tine. Starr was––had been––a stickler about manners. She would have corrected Dani sharply. But tonight Wade didn’t have the heart.
Not tonight. Not on this first night Danica Parnell was an orphan.
Chapter 5
It was almost forty-eight hours before the coroner finally released Starr’s body to the funeral home. Wade was told it might be weeks before the autopsy report would be available. Early the morning of the funeral, Wade lay on the sofa in her apartment. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to unmake her bed. Besides, he didn’t think he could stand to sleep in the room her scent permeated, where every place he turned was some sweet reminder of her. The faded, embroidered denim jacket she always wore. The collection of funky sandals lined up in her open closet. He’d often teased her about that, calling her Imelda Marcos.
A dusky half-light filtered through the curtains, and the birds twittered cheerily outside the window, but Wade could not enjoy their song. He tossed restlessly, trying to fathom what his life would be like now, trying to sort out the mystery of his beloved’s death. Had Starr been overcome by paint fumes as several people speculated? Or had she suffered some sort of seizure or stroke? Maybe he should have insisted that she take a couple days off, get some rest. But he’d been too busy with his own concerns. He had warned her about keeping the room well ventilated while she was painting, but she never took his warnings seriously enough. He should have opened the windows himself. He should have made sure she was safe.
The whole nightmare of that dreadful day swirled through his head, and for the first time since he’d sat beside her lifeless body, he allowed the tears to flow. He rolled over on his belly and let the pillow soak up his tears and absorb his convulsing sobs, lest he wake the kids.
Finally the sun nudged him from his bed, and he went down the hall to rouse Starr’s children and help them dress for this darkest day of their lives.
Starr would have approved of the funeral they planned. Wade made sure there were hundreds of the daisies she loved so much. The florist had brought vases full for the altar, and the casket was draped with a huge arrangement of the yellow and white flowers.
The girls wanted balloons. So at the graveside, Wade and Lacey and Danica handed out two hundred helium-filled balloons. Beau refused to help them and stood with his arms folded over his scrawny chest, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes downcast.
When the last amen had faded, everyone let go of their balloons, and the pewter Kansas sky was soon dotted with cheery spots of red and blue, lavender and pink, yellow and green. The crowd gathered around the funeral tent stood with necks craned, watching in silence as the balloons floated heavenward.
A few minutes later people began to disperse, some offering final condolences to Sophie and to Wade and the children. Sophie kept glancing nervously at her watch and finally edged her way to the drive where her car was parked. Wade had tried to convince her to ride with him and the children. But she’d insisted on driving alone in the procession to the cemetery. Now Wade realized that she was worried about making her shift at the café on time. Starr’s sister was drowning her sorrow in her work. Wade made a mental note to talk to her about it later.
The lines of cars parked along the intersecting gravel pathways slowly dissolved, and as the last of the mourners drove away, an eerie quiet descended over the cemetery. In the distance, the haunting song of a mourning dove pierced the air. Wade waited with the children, watching the sky in silence until the last dot of color disappeared from view.
“Now Mama’s in heaven,” Lacey declared with a bob of her chin.
Wade didn’t try to correct her theology. If it took soaring balloons for Lacey’s seven-year-old mind to believe that her mama was with Jesus now, he wasn’t going to argue the point.
But as cheerful as the balloons were, as comforting as Pastor Leonard’s reading of the Twenty-third Psalm, as filling as the hot casseroles at the church dinner earlier had been, an overwhelming cloak of heaviness blanketed Wade now. The initial, numbing shock of Starr’s death and t
he comforting ritual of the funeral were over. Now they had to go on. Now they had to find a way to live without the woman who’d anchored all their lives with her seemingly endless love.
He felt light pressure on his arm and turned to see Pete and his wife, Margie. “Hey, man.”
The two embraced.
“Are you going back to…Starr’s apartment, or on out to your place?” Pete asked.
His friends’ grief-pinched faces had the same effect on Wade as the hollow look in the children’s eyes. He wanted to fix things, to erase that expression from all their faces. But he couldn’t.
“I think… I’ll take the kids out to my place,” he said, suddenly sure of his decision. “They’ve all got their rooms out there. They were excited about moving. I think Starr would have wanted them to be there.”
“Then that’s where they should be,” Margie said.
“Wade.” Pete’s tone presaged his words. “Are you sure you want to do that? It’ll just make it harder when they go.”
“Pete, I don’t have a choice. I’m all these kids have now.”
“What about Starr’s sister? Surely she could take them in.”
“No. Even if she could, it––” He cleared his throat and tipped his head pointedly in the children’s direction, lowering his voice. “It wouldn’t be a good situation.”
“What about their real father?”
Wade winced. “No. He’s not involved. I don’t even know where he is. I’m the only father these kids have ever known.”
Pete put a hand on Wade’s shoulder and squeezed. “What can we do to help?”
Wade struggled to clear his mind. He needed to think what to do next. “Well,” he said finally, “We need to haul the kids’ beds out to my house. Starr already moved some of their toys––so they’d have something to play with when she was working out there. Their winter clothes are in the closets, but there’s a lot of other stuff to move before they can stay.”
“No problem,” Pete said.
Beau shuffled up to them, eyes to the ground, and Margie reached out to place a hand on his head. “We should get something in these little bellies first.”
Wade nodded, grateful for someone to tell him what to do.
“We’ll drive through McDonald’s and pick up burgers for everyone,” Pete said. “We’ll meet you back at the apartment.”
Again, Wade nodded. “Come on, girls. Beau…” He started toward Starr’s car, shepherding the kids in front of him. He’d decided it would be easier to haul the kids around in the car, but they’d need his pickup to move the beds out to the house. It was going to be strange jockeying two vehicles back and forth. He realized this was just one of the thousand little details he would need to work out in the coming days.
Starting Monday morning, he would work his way down the list of things he had to take care of. He needed to check on Starr’s insurance, get everything cleared out of her apartment, find out what he should do about transferring the title of her car, and turn her keys in to the nursing home.
And then there were all the little things she’d left undone at the house. He’d cleaned up the paint mess in the bedroom the day after they’d taken Starr’s body from the room, but there were still little projects all over the house that she’d started and never completed. Already, he ached for her every time he walked by some hint of her handiwork and realized it would never be finished.
He’d been staying at Starr’s apartment with the kids since that first night. But out at the house, he was still camped out on the sofa in the spare room downstairs. It had served as his bachelor pad in the two years since he’d gotten far enough along on the house that it was livable.
In front of Starr’s apartment, Wade put the car in park. Without a word, the kids jumped out and raced for the door.
“Hang on, Beau. The door’s locked, remember?”
“Gimme the key.” Beau held out his hand, not meeting Wade’s gaze.
Wade had tried to overlook the boy’s surliness the past few days, but he wasn’t going to put up with this forever. He held tight to the keys. “You want to try that again, buddy?” At some point the children were going to have to understand that their mama was gone and he was all they had now.
Beau scuffed the toe of his too-tight dress shoe on the concrete. “Can you give me the key?” There was a long pause before he added a mumbled “please?”
That would have to do for now. Wade put the key ring in the boy’s outstretched hand. Beau went to open the door without acknowledging him.
The apartment had never seemed so empty, though it still carried the faint scent of Starr’s musky vanilla perfume and the vanilla bean scented candles she always burned.
“You guys get your clothes changed, okay? Pete and Margie are bringing us something to eat in a little bit, and then we’re going to move some stuff out to the house and stay there tonight.”
“We’re gonna sleep at the big house?” Lacey looked surprised.
“I thought we would. Is that okay with you guys?”
“What are we gonna sleep on?” Beau croaked. “There’s no beds there.”
“Pete’s going to help us move the beds after we eat.” He hadn’t thought to ask what the kids wanted to do. Maybe they wouldn’t want to leave the apartment.
But even Beau seemed happy about the idea. “I can help tear down the girls’ bunk beds, Wade. I helped Mama put ’em together, so I know how to do it.”
“That’d be great, bud. And you girls can take the sheets off all the beds.”
Lacey and Danica nodded soberly.
“Now go on. Get out of your good clothes. And don’t forget to hang things up after you––”
But they’d already disappeared down the apartment’s narrow hallway.
The scent of woodsmoke hung in the air, and the moon was just rising over the cottonwood trees when Wade walked Pete and Margie out to their car.
“Thanks, you guys. I appreciate it.”
“Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.” Margie patted his arm.
“Are you sure you can handle this, buddy,” Pete asked, deep concern in his voice.
Wade let loose a sigh that had been building for four days. “I don’t have much choice but to handle it.”
“Wade… Maybe you should call Social Services. They can help with situations like this. I’m sure there’s a family somewhere who would love to have these kids.”
“That’s not true and you know it, Pete. The kids would probably get split up. I won’t let that happen.”
Pete cleared his throat and looked at the ground. Wade knew his friend only wanted what was best for him. But what he’d told Pete was true. He didn’t have a choice. He loved Starr’s kids. He sure wasn’t going to let anything happen to them.
And yet he’d never felt more inadequate in his life for such a daunting task. He was terrified they could read the fear in his eyes now.
Pete grasped Wade’s shoulder. “You’ll do what you have to do. God gives what you need when you need it and not before.”
“Yeah. I know that.” It came out sounding more sarcastic than he’d intended.
“It’s true, Wade.”
“I know, Pete. I do know.”
“You’re sure you don’t want us to stay here tonight?”
“We’d be glad to stay, Wade,” Margie said. “Amber is at my folks’ for the night…”
“No. Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but you guys can’t be here tomorrow, or the day after that. We…we might as well get used to it being just the four of us.”
Pete nodded. He put an arm around Margie and turned toward the car.
“We’ll be all right,” Wade called after them. “Everything will be okay.”
He wished he could believe his own words.
Chapter 6
“Wade?” Lacey’s voice halted him at the door to her bedroom.
“What, sweetie?”
“Do you think Mama can see us right now?”
&
nbsp; He let his hand drop from the doorknob. He’d wondered the same thing himself as he’d tucked Lacey in only moments ago. In fact, he’d found himself whispering a plea for Starr to help him know what to do. He should have been praying, but it was Starr he wanted to talk to. She was the one who knew Dani’s silly bedtime ritual, and what to do when Beau got testy, and whether Lacey should have more than one glass of water before bedtime. He didn’t think he’d find the answers to those questions in his Bible.
Wade went to sit on the edge of her bed and smoothed the flaxen hair back from her forehead. “I’m not sure, Lacey. But I think your mama knows you’re okay. I think she’s probably happy we’re all here together in this house she loved so much.”
Lacey nodded, looking lost in the twin bed that was half of the bunk bed set she and Dani had shared in the apartment.
Wade leaned back against the pillow, anchoring his six-foot-two frame with one foot solidly on the floor. He pulled Lacey to the crook of his arm and pointed to the ceiling. Reaching to the desk beside him, he flipped on her lamp. “Look up there.”
Lacey followed his gaze to the ceiling, where a ribbon of Starr’s fancy calligraphy meandered. “Can you read that?”
Lacey read the words in her sweet, whispery seven-year-old voice. “Cast all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”
“That’s what your mama would be saying right now if she were here.”
“I miss Mama, Wade.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. So do I. But we’ve got to remember that your Mama is in heaven now. She wouldn’t want us to be too sad.” It was a trite, simplistic thing to say, but it was all he had to offer.
Lacey nodded slowly and looked up at him with trusting eyes. “Okay.”
He kissed her velvety cheek. “I’ll check on you again before I go to bed, okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Lacey nodded.
Wade rolled off the bed and knelt beside it, turning off her lamp before he tucked her in one last time.
He left the door open a crack and went across the hall to Danica’s room. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized Dani was cowering, half sitting in the corner of her bed, clutching her threadbare “blankie” to her mouth. He flipped on the light.
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