Page 41 of Through the Dark Night
“Of course. So nice to hear from you.”
“It’s good to hear your voice too. Although unfortunately, I’m not calling just to chat. I have something I need to tell you.”
“Okay?” She felt her stomach drop. Was this going to be more newsabout her husband? Someone else he had cheated with? She steeled herself to hear.
“I just wanted to let you know that there’s been someone walking around town asking about you. And not just you, but the accident with Yolanda. Specific questions. I just thought it was odd.”
Shannon froze. Her deepest, darkest fear after losing her daughter. It was the idea that she was responsible. That the authorities just hadn’t picked up on the idea that she was to blame. After all, she’d allowed the girls to go out on the lake. And the girls had not been wearing life vests. They should have been. And was it her fault that they hadn’t been? She thought she had trained them to do so. She had made them do so anytime she was out on the lake with them, which wasn’t that often. She enjoyed looking at it, but being out on it really wasn’t her cup of tea.
“I see. What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t answer any question that I didn’t have to. Any facts that I didn’t know I just flat-out told him, any speculation I shut down. But I did think it was important that you knew that something was going on.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They talked a little bit more and caught up a bit, but Julianne had to go, and they hung up shortly after.
Shannon felt cold and completely unmoored. Her first instinct was to run. To pack everything up and get out of there. Just disappear somewhere. But she looked around the office—she actually had an office now—and thought about the progress that had been made. About the drywall that had been going up, the electricity that Lance was working on, even as she sat down here. About the crew on the roof—she could hear the hammering in the distance. And the chainsaws that ran in the front yard. By the end of the day, the tree that fell down would be totally cleaned up. By the end of the week, everything that had been broken in the storm would be fixed, plus other strides would be made on the inn. The porch would be finished, and in just a little over a month, she hoped to have the first guest staying.
Did she really want to leave all this? Run away from it?
She already felt like she’d run away twice, from Raspberry Ridgeafter the accident and then from Detroit after her marriage and family fell apart.
Now, of course, staying in Detroit wasn’t appealing at all, but the fact of the matter was, she had run.
She was tired of that. Tired of not facing things. But she really didn’t know what to do. She pushed back away from her desk, stumbling a little as she got to her feet.
“Are you okay?” It felt like Marina’s voice came from a distance as she stood in the doorway, watching her.
“I’m fine,” she said, knowing that was a total and complete lie but wanting Marina to believe her anyway. She didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t fine, that she needed time, that she needed to think, that she had to figure out what to do. The authorities could be coming after her and charging her with…what? Negligence? Homicide? After all, it was her fault her daughter died. All hers.
“I need to leave for a bit,” she said to Marina as she stumbled past her, knowing that she was acting oddly but unable to stop herself. She needed to get out of the inn, needed to do something.
She got in her car and started driving with no destination in mind. She ended up driving past the Blueberry Beach high school—she didn’t even know how she got there, but she remembered days filled with sun and laughter, snow, and winter games. Snuggling up with hot cocoa around a bonfire, Lance beside her, and her future, endless and exciting in front of them.
She drove past several lake accesses where she had gone boating and swimming with friends, and almost always Lance was part of that. She drove down the road, remembering bringing each of their babies home from the hospital down south where she’d had them before the Blueberry Beach Hospital had been built.. Lance had been a part of everything before James had come into the picture. He had been a part of her life since high school. And she thought he was going to be her future.
She felt like she was in a daze and somehow found herself pulling into the old church, the white one on top of the hill, that her family had gone to faithfully—at least she had, until the day of the accident. It was where Yolanda’s funeral had been held and where she was buried.
She parked in the old lot and got out, walking to the familiar spot in the graveyard where Yolanda’s grave was. There were flowers there—someone was taking care of it. Probably Claire or Grace or Lauren. It should have been her. If she were a good mother, she would be taking care of her daughter’s grave. Maybe the investigator had seen that she hadn’t been at the grave, ever, and had realized that it was probably her fault that Yolanda had died.
She stood at the headstone that read, “Beloved daughter and friend, taken too soon.”
Shannon fell to her knees, sobbing, as she remembered Yolanda as a baby, the first baby she’d brought home—she’d been scared to death and amazed that the hospital had placed this tiny little human being in her arms and sent her out the doors like somehow she was responsible enough to keep it alive. The struggle to breastfeed, the fear every time Yolanda made a tiny little noise that didn’t sound normal. Yolanda’s first steps, her first day of kindergarten, her excitement over welcoming a sister and a brother into their home. Yolanda as the big sister, as the responsible one, so many memories. Her beautiful smile, her huge heart, and yes, even her slight rebellion where she insisted that she was big enough to go out with her friends, that her mom shouldn’t worry, that she would be fine.
Her desire to be independent, to start stretching her wings. And Shannon’s maternal instinct to keep her grounded.
She sobbed, heart-wrenching sobs that came up from her very soul, all the grief that she’d lived with day by day by day, waiting until she was strong enough to feel it or until time had healed enough that she could face the grief.
Even as she cried, she was amazed that it didn’t hurt quite as much as what she thought it would. The memories were bittersweet, true, and slightly painful, but not devastatingly sharp like they had been. In fact, she took a little bit of pleasure in thinking about them, even as she cried.
She felt an arm come around her and looked up to see Lance, caring and concern and questions on his face, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask any questions, and when she leaned into him, his arms came around her, and he held her while she cried.
Sixteen
Shannon fingered the tissue in her hand. After Lance had held her for at least thirty minutes, maybe more like an hour, he’d gently suggested that they go to his house. Katie was visiting a friend, and she had agreed.
The only thing they talked about on the way there was when Shannon had asked him how he found her.
