Page 77 of Spindrift

Severaldusty, tear-filled hours later, the remainder of the attic’s population hadfound its way into the trash or the back of their cars to be donated, andEmilia stood in the doorway of her father’s room with Anna Maria at her side.She’d left this room for last. Some of the boxes of things she’d decided tokeep cluttered one corner, but the bed remained made in the same sheets, andthe dresser and closet were still filled with her father’s clothes.

“Ican’t do it,” she said.

“Youdon’t have to. You’ve got me. Have you thought about what you want to keep?”

Quitea few shirts and sweaters already mingled with her own clothes, but she’d grownaccustomed to pulling out a piece of his clothing whenever her grief grew toohard to contain.

“Allof it?”

“Youcan if you want to. But that’s a lot of mismatched socks. Come sit.” Anna Mariasteered her to the bed, where she sat with her knees tucked under her chin whileher sister opened drawers and rifled through the closet, taking inventory ofthe contents under her breath. She turned to Emilia when she finished. “I havea plan.”

Emilianodded to indicate her willingness to listen.

“Ifthis were my dad, I’d want to keep things I could wear, right? Like this.” Sheheld up a faded flannel shirt. “So we leave anything like that for later andstart with things you’re less attached to, like boxers, socks, undershirts,pants, and shoes.”

Emilianodded again.

“Andwhen we’re done, I’ll pour you a big glass of wine, feed you, and we’ll call ita day, okay?”

“Okay.”She wiped a rivulet of tears from her cheeks.

“Now.Let’s start with these. Ooh, trout-patterned boxers? He was a man of taste.”

• • •

“Do youever think about what it would be like to end a day not smelling like anabscess?” Stevie asked as they pulled out of the Stevenson’s barnyard, themingling odors of pus and manure joining them in the cab of the truck. Krakensat up and sniffed the air with interest.

“Honestly?No,” said Morgan. “I’ve got to swing by my parents’ house and check on a horsefor my mom. Want to come?”

Steviebrightened. “Yes. I haven’t seen your mom in ages.”

Morgan’smother was in the barn feeding hay to her motley assortment of animals. She wavedto them and dusted her hands off on her coveralls.

“Hey,Ma, how’s the gang?”

Severalsheep, a blind llama, and a spotted donkey raised their heads at her voicebefore they resumed nibbling on their forage. Her mother’s horse, an oldgelding named Bill, scratched his rear on the paddock gate at the end of thesmall barn. Horse hair flew into the air in clouds.

“Aliveand well.” She kissed Morgan’s cheek. Shannon Donovan’s short curly hair waslighter than her daughter’s, but they shared the same slate-blue eyes andstraight nose. She also stood nearly as tall as her daughter, which left Steviecraning her neck more often than not in their company. Shannon extended herarms to Stevie. “And how’s my favorite?”

“I’mright here, Mom,” said Morgan.

“You’reher daughter,” said Stevie. “She has to love you. I’m special.”

“Sayhi to your father before you go. He’s got some new lures he wants to show you.”

“Hey,Ma, do you remember Ray Russo’s daughter?”

“Iremember seeing Francesca with a baby girl. Cute little thing. Looked just likeRay.”

“She’sin town for a bit to deal with his estate.”

“Poorgirl. Have you seen her?”

Steviepulled a suggestive face behind Shannon’s back.

“We’refriends. She’s got Ray’s boat back in the water.”

“Youtell her she’s welcome here anytime. I remember losing your grandfather when Iwas your age. No one’s ever prepared for that. Be nice to the girl.”

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