She’d set the wooden spoon she was using to mix the cookie dough on the sideboard and wiped her hands on the dish towel. Josh had stopped five feet from her, his eyes wild, tears threatening to spill over. He thought he was too old to cry, and was fighting his emotions so hard. She took him by the hand and went to the table, sat down, and pulled him between her knees.
The accident had happened three days before. One of those things, her mind told her; one of those things that happened to other families. The Trentons, good people, town favorites, hired a babysitter for their young daughter Aubrey, had themselves a night out on the town, and managed to get sideswiped by a tractor-trailer on their way home. The story had made the late local news. Daisy had been drinking a glass of wine and stopped short when she saw the accident scene, the crushed car, the yellow drape. She hardly noticed spilling a bit of wine down the front of her shirt. Her mixed emotions.
Daisy had taken an instant dislike to Marie Trenton, who always managed to make her feel like an incompetent harpy. Marie was a fixture on the Montessori’s PTA, perpetually in charge. Always put together. Always gentle in her rebukes.
She was sorry for their deaths; of course she was. But something in her couldn’t help but feel like Marie Trenton had gotten exactly what she deserved. But she couldn’t say that to Josh.
“They had an accident. I know you must be scared, sweetie. But nothing is going to happen to your daddy or me. I promise.”
“I know that. But why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Josh was going through an adult stage where he felt everything needed to be shared with him. He was right this time, though. She should have told him. He liked playing with the little Trenton girl, and the school was so small. Surely they were all talking about it today.
She’d had a flash of anger toward Linda Pierce, Josh’s teacher. She should have called to warn Daisy she was going to share this momentous news with Daisy’s son.
But how do you explain a sudden death to a child?
Why hadn’t Daisy told him herself? Perhaps because Josh had lived through Ed, though he didn’t, couldn’t, remember, and she wanted to shelter him from more pain.
“Sweetie, sometimes things that happen to grown-ups aren’t good for children to hear.”
That answer wasn’t going to be good enough; she saw his mind begin to churn. He bit his lip and leaned in to her. She enveloped her son in a hug, and he whispered in her ear.
“But Aubrey has no one. Where will she go?”
This was more than a rhetorical, philosophical question. After the weekend, after fate had dealt this cruel blow, Aubrey indeed had no family. The Trentons, having left a lifetime of longing for their own child behind them, were older when they adopted Aubrey from some crack-addled teen mother who subsequently overdosed. The school had actually used their family as a model to help other young families struggling with infertility make the decision to adopt. But as only children themselves, with parents long dead, the Trentons were alone in the world. There was no one on record to take in small, orphaned Aubrey.
Who would take Josh if I died? Dear God, not Ed. Please not Ed.
She’d made a mental note to thank Tom again for adopting Josh, for his protection of her son and her sanity, forced aside the glum thoughts, gave Josh a quick squeeze.
“Aubrey is going to be just fine. There is a system. They will take care of her, and give her a new family.”
“No!” It was somewhere between a proclamation and wail.
“Josh, honey. You’re going to have to trust me. This is hard for you to understand, but you’re my big man now. Sometimes grown-ups make decisions we don’t agree with, but they are the right decisions. Aubrey will go live with a foster family.”
“Strangers. They’ll kill her.”
“Of course they won’t kill her.”
“It happens. I’ve seen it.”
Seen it on television, some damn cop show she’d caught him watching in the middle of the night about a year back.
“I told you, Josh. That was make-believe.”
She could feel him vibrating in her arms, didn’t know if it was tears or fury. Josh didn’t like being told he was wrong. Even at ten, he got his back up.
“But why can’t she come live here? With us? We could be her family.”
He pulled back, staring at her, pleading with his eyes.
“Oh, Josh. That wouldn’t be . . . I mean, we couldn’t . . . We’re not equipped.”
For the briefest moment, panic filled her. Me, raise Marie Trenton’s daughter? Like hell I will. And then . . . He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
“But, Mama . . .”