stepped inside. Give them a chance to catch their breath.”
Joanna looked at her father- and mother-in-law with a combination of appreciation and amazement. That afternoon she had lost a husband and Jenny a father, but these two wonderful old people had lost a son-their only son. And yet, here they were only a few hours later, bustling around, pitching in, and taking care of everybody else. It was astounding and yet so like them. Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady were the exact antithesis of her own mother. That was one of the things Joanna liked about them.
“Well,” Eva Lou said, ignoring her husband’s caution. “Are you hungry?”
“I am,” Jenny declared.
Joanna shook her head. “Not me. I’m more dirty than hungry. I want to take a shower.”
With her suitcase in hand and still carrying the precious plastic bag holding only pitiful reminders of the man who had owned its con-tents, Joanna made her way through the kitchen and dining room and on into the bed-room. Just walking into that now too-familiar room took her breath away. Everything there reminded her of Andy, from the rolltop desk with its broken, patched-together chair, to the frayed cowboy hat that he wore around home, to their bed. Especially the bed. She couldn’t face it. She dropped the plastic bag on the desk, then, gulping for air, she grabbed her robe and retreated into the bathroom.
There she clambered into the old-fashioned, claw-footed tub with its make-do shower and turned on the water full blast. She stood under the water for a long, long time, letting the steamy spray mingle with the tears on her face while the roar in the pipes muffled the sound of her sobs. Usually, Joanna was conscientious about taking three-minute showers. This time, she came to her senses only when all the hot water was gone. By then she was no longer crying. It was as though the well of tears in-side her had finally run dry.
She toweled herself off and felt a surprising rush of gratitude that she was doing so in the familiar surroundings of her own bathroom in her own home. At least that part of her life was the same, and it would continue to be so. In Tucson, at the hospital, she had focused to-tally on dealing with the immediate problem of paying the hospital bill, but now she realized that through the insurance she owned, life insurance on both of them which Milo Davis had encouraged them to buy and helped them keep, she and Jenny would be able to stay in their own home for as long as they wanted. In fact, she could probably pay Eva Lou and Jim Bob off completely if she wanted to. But if the choice lay between having the house paid for and having Andy back…
Hastily pushing that thought aside, she tied the belt on her robe and emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her wet hair. In her absence, both Eleanor Lathrop and Marianne Maculyea had appeared. They, along with Jenny and the Bradys, were seated at the dining room table. For a few moments, Joanna stood silently in the hallway door with-out anyone noticing her.
Hollow-eyed, Jenny sat listening while her Grandmother Lathrop recounted her version of her son-in-law’s death while the Bradys, too, heard the story for the first time. Eleanor, reveling in the attention of her audience, warmed to the telling.
“So when the doctor came back out,” she was saying, “I left Margaret sitting there watching television and went over to ask him how Andy was. I mean, Joanna had been gone for some time by then, and none of the rest of us had been allowed in to visit. The doctor said that everything was just fine, that we shouldn’t worry about a thing, but then, a few minutes later, some kind of alarm went off. After that there were all kinds of people rushing in and out of the room. I’ve never seen anything like it, but by then it was too late. They just couldn’t bring him back.”
Jim Bob Brady nodded solemnly and patted his wife’s hand while she wept quietly into a hanky. Jennifer pushed back her chair and hurried to Eva Lou’s side where she clung to the old woman’s neck and helplessly patted her shoulder. By then Jenny was crying, too.
“Sounds like everybody did just about everything they could do,” Jim Bob observed. “Some things can’t be helped, now can they.”
Looking from one face to the other, he happened to glance up and see Joanna hovering dry-eyed but grim-faced in the background. “Are you all right, Joanna?” he asked.
She wasn’t all right. In fact, she was furious. She hadn’t wanted Jenny to be subjected to her Grandmother Lathrop’s version of things, but it was too late now. The damage, if any, was already done.
“I’m okay,” Joanna answered. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
The old man hurriedly started to rise to his feet. “We can get out of your way and head on into town right now if you like,” he said.
“No. Don’t rush off. We need to talk, all of us.” She glanced at Marianne. “What are you doing here, Mari?” Joanna asked, not unkindly. “Jeff told me you had a board meeting.”
“I skipped out,” Marianne answered. “When I told them I was coming here, every-one understood.”
Joanna took a seat at the head of the table, effectively shutting down Eleanor’s story before she could embellish it any further. “As long as Marianne’s here, we could just as well start making plans for the funeral. I understand Norm Higgins is waiting to hear from us in the morning so he can move forward on the arrangements. How soon can you schedule it, Marianne? What about Saturday?”
Reverend Maculyea shook her head dubiously. “That may be too soon, what with the autopsy and…”
“Autopsy?” Eva Lou echoed in dismay. “Do you mean to tell me that they’re doing an autopsy on my boy? Why on earth would they need one of those?”
“They’re routine, Mrs. Brady,” Marianne explained. “When someone dies within twenty-four hours of being admitted to a hospital, an autopsy is pretty much standard procedure. They call them coroner’s cases.”
Eva Lou Brady remained unconvinced. “I don’t care what they call them,” she insisted. “From what I’ve heard, everybody knows Andy died of a gunshot wound. I don’t see any good reason for them to go cutting him up that way, no reason at all.”
“Can we do it Saturday at the church?” Joanna put in, wanting desperately to steer the discussion away from the subject of autopsies. “I’d really like to have the funeral as soon as possible. I want to get it over with.”
Marianne made a note in her calendar. “I’ll check on it in the morning.”
“Will I be able to come?” Jennifer asked. “I’ve never been to a funeral before.”
“You’ll be there,” Joanna told her. “You and I will be there together.”
For the next two hours or so, the five adults huddled over the dining room table, choosing music and scripture passages, selecting people to give eulogies and to serve as pallbearers. It was a painful but necessary process. With every small decision, Joanna felt the reality of it inevitably settling into her soul. Andy really was dead.
By nine, suffering from emotional overload, Jennifer put herself to bed. Jim Bob and Eva Lou left for home in town around eleven, and Eleanor Lathrop followed suit a few minutes later. When Joanna went into the bedroom to check on Jenny, she emerged in time to find Marianne setting two ice-filled glasses and an unopened fifth of Jack Daniels on the dining room table.
“Where’d that come from?” Joanna asked, staring at the bottle while Marianne Maculyea twisted open the top.
“I’m not naming any names,” the pastor returned, “but one of my most faithful parishioners gives Jeff and me one of these every Christmas whether we need it or not. And don’t think I’m not grateful. I could never afford to buy this stuff on my salary. We save it for special occasions, and this seems special to me. I figure if anyone ever needed a drink, you do tonight. Here.”
Marianne Maculyea handed Joanna a glass filled with amber liquid, took hers, and held it up in a toast. “To Andy,” she said.
Joanna nodded. “To Andy,” she repeated, Bind took a long sip, feeling the whiskey warm her throat and chest as she swallowed. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she sank into the nearest chair.
“How do I go on?” she asked. “How do people do it?”
Marianne sat down next to her and put a hand on Joanna’s. “They do it one day at a time,” she answered softly. “Or one minute at a time when the going’s really tough. They do it with the love and help of people who care about them, and with love and guidance from the Big Guy upstairs.”
Joanna stared down into the depths of her glass. “I couldn’t talk to Jim Bob and Eva Lou about all the rumors,” she said brokenly. “They have a right to know about them, I guess, that they’re claiming it’s suicide, the supposed illegal dealings with Lefty…”
“And the gun,” Marianne added.
Joanna’s head came up. “Gun? What gun?”
“You mean no one’s told you about that?”
