“I know, neither can I. We’ll just both have to be careful.” He drove an old Volvo station wagon that Jack had bought for him that year because it was safe and solid, and she was glad for it now. She drove a newer model of the same car, and Carole had her own car, an old Ford that she’d had for ten years and kept in mint condition. It got her where she wanted to go, and she picked the children up from school in it. There was Jack’s car now too, a new Lexus he had splurged on that year, but Liz didn’t have the heart to drive it herself or sell it. Maybe they’d just keep it. She couldn’t bear the thought of disposing of his things. She’d already spent several nights holding his clothes close to her, and smelling the familiar aftershave on them, as she stood in his closet. She couldn’t bear to part with any of his belongings, and had no intention of giving away anything. She still needed to keep his things near her. Several people had told her to get rid of everything as soon as possible, and she had thanked them for their concern, and had every intention of ignoring what they told her.
The girls came downstairs for dinner shortly after that, and they were a somber group as they sat at the kitchen table. And for at least half the meal, no one said a word. They looked and felt like survivors of the Titanic. Just getting through the days now was gruelling, particularly now that they were back at school and she was back in the office.
“Do I dare ask how everyone’s first day back at school was?” she finally asked them, as she looked at the uneaten food on everyone’s plates. Only Peter had made a vague effort to eat anything, and even he wasn’t up to his usual standards. He usually had seconds of everything, and ice cream on whatever was served for dessert, regardless of what it was. But no one could eat, and they looked relieved when their mother asked them how their day was.
“It sucked,” Rachel volunteered first, and Annie seconded the opinion.
“Everyone kept asking how it happened, if I saw him afterwards, if we cried at the funeral. It was sick,” Megan said, as the others heaved a sigh of agreement.
“They mean well, probably,” Liz gave them the benefit of the doubt, “they’re just curious and they don’t know what to say to us. We just have to keep trucking and get through it.”
“I don’t want to go back to school,” Jamie said firmly, and Liz was about to tell him he had to, when she decided he didn’t. If he needed some time at home to heal, what difference did it make, particularly for Jamie.
“Maybe you can keep Carole company for a few days,” Liz said quietly, and Rachel immediately looked at her with a question.
“Can I stay home too?”
“Can I?” Annie echoed.
“I think you guys need to try and work through it. Maybe Jamie can give it another try next week.” Peter didn’t tell anyone at the table he had cut his last two classes and sat in the gym alone, but he just couldn’t face more of what his sisters had been describing. The coach had found him there, and they had talked for a long time. He had lost his father when he was the same age as Peter, and they had talked about what it felt like. It helped to hear his coach but it couldn’t take away the pain.
“No one said this was going to be easy,” Liz said with a sigh. “But this is what life dished out to us for right now. We have to try and make the best of it. Maybe if we just do it for Daddy, he would have wanted us to be okay. And one day, we will be again.”
“When?” Annie asked miserably. “How long will we feel like this? The rest of our lives?”
“It feels like that right now. I don’t know,” Liz said honestly. “How long does anything hurt? A long time sometimes, but not forever.” She wished she believed that herself as they all went back upstairs again. The house had never been as quiet. They were all in their rooms with their doors closed, there was no sound of music blaring from within, and the phone hardly rang. Liz kissed them all good night when they went to bed, even Peter, and they hugged each other for a long time without words. There was nothing left to say. All they could do now was survive it. And Jamie slept in her bed again that night. She didn’t encourage him to go back to his own bed, because it was so nice having him there so she didn’t have to sleep alone. But all she could think of as she turned off the light and lay next to her sleeping child was how much she missed Jack, and ask herself, and him, if he could see her from where he was, how she was ever going to get through this. There were no answers yet. There was no joy left in their life. Only the unbearable agony of losing him, and the gaping hole he had left, which was only filled with the pain of missing him. It was still a physical ache for all of them, and especially for her, as she lay awake again all night, crying for him, and holding on to Jamie. She felt as though she were drowning as she clung to her youngest child.
The House On Hope Street
Chapter 4
By Valentine’s Day, Jack had been gone for seven weeks, and the kids were starting to feel better. Liz had talked to the girls’ school psychologist, who had given her the mixed blessing of telling her that somewhere around six to eight weeks, the kids would turn the corner, and start to be happier again. They would adjust, but by then, Liz would feel worse for a while, as the full reality of it hit her.
And as she walked into the office on Valentine’s Day, Liz finally believed her. Jack had always made a big deal out of holidays. He bought roses for her on Valentine’s Day, and he always got her a present. But everything about this year was different. She had to appear in court for clients twice that day, and she was finding it harder and harder to do that. Her clients’ animosity toward the spouses they were divorcing seemed unnecessarily venomous to her, and the cruel tricks they pulled on each other and wanted her to pull on their behalf seemed so pointless. She was beginning to hate their law practice, and wondered why she had let Jack talk her into family law in the first place.
She had said as much to Victoria when she last talked to her. Her boys kept her busy as they were still in nursery school, and she and Liz had had trouble getting together, but they still had time for long conversations on the phone late at night.
“What other kind of law would you rather do?” Victoria had asked sensibly. “You always told me you hated personal injury when I was doing it, and I can’t see you doing criminal.”
“There are other specialties. I don’t know, maybe something to do with kids. All my clients are so busy trying to screw each other over, they forget about their children.” Children’s advocacy had always appealed to her, but Jack had always been quick to remind her there was no money in it. He wasn’t greedy, but he was practical, and they had five kids to support. They made a good living in family law, and it was difficult to ignore that.
