Don't Cry Now by Joy Fielding Page B

straining to catch part of their conversation, but their voices suddenly stilled, as if aware of her interest.
    Joan had no living relatives outside of her children, no sisters or brothers to mourn her. An only child. Lucky her, Bonnie thought, warily glancing over her shoulder, half prepared to see her brother waltz through the door, something he would do if only for the perverse pleasure of seeing the shock on her face. She wondered absently whether the police had contacted him, then pushed him rudely from her mind, concentrating on those present. She smiled at her friend Diana, there to lend moral support, nodded at Marla Brenzelle, sitting in the row behind Diana, dressed in a hot pink number that made her look more like a mother of the bride than a mourner at a funeral. But Marla was staring just past her, looking dramatically solemn for the several photographers who hovered nearby. Was everything a photo opportunity to this woman? Bonnie wondered, catching her breath as Josh Freeman entered her line of vision. Why hadn’t she noticed him before?
    He looked exactly the way he did at school, she thought, handsome in a careless sort of way, as if his good looks were something of an inconvenience, a fact of lifehe’d learned to accept but never really felt comfortable with. His first appearance in the staff room at Weston Secondary had created an immediate buzz among the female staff, everyone wanting to know more about the soft-spoken widower from New York. But Josh Freeman had proved as inaccessible as he was attractive, sticking mostly to himself and rarely socializing with the other teachers, although he was unfailingly pleasant and polite whenever Bonnie had approached him. What was he doing here? she wondered now. How well had he known Joan?
    â€œMr. Freeman’s here,” she whispered across Rod to Sam, who glanced back at his art teacher and waved, as casually as if he’d just spotted a friend at a baseball game.
    A woman gingerly approached, her steps halting, her eyes swollen with tears. “Lauren,” she began, taking the girl’s hands inside her own. It was hard to determine who was trembling more. “Sam,” she acknowledged, trying to smile, but her lips began quivering uncontrollably, and she had to clamp the palm of her hand over them to still them. “Lyle and I are so sorry about your mother,” she managed to whisper. “We just can’t believe this has happened.”
    Bonnie became aware of a short, heavyset man standing behind the tall, blond woman, a protective hand on her shoulder. “She was such a wonderful person,” the woman continued. “I know I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for your mother, and everything she did for me. I just can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t believe anyone could have hurt her. She was a great lady. She really was.” A loud sob escaped the woman’s lips. Her husband’s grip tightened on her shoulder, creasing the delicate silk of her navy dress.
    A great lady? A wonderful person? Who on earth was this woman talking about? Bonnie looked toward Rod, who was staring at the woman with bemused detachment.
    Lauren stood up, drew the woman into a close embrace.
    â€œI’m the one who should be comforting you,” thewoman told her, pulling back, wiping stubborn tears from her eyes.
    â€œI’ll be all right,” Lauren assured her.
    The woman’s hand reached out and gently caressed Lauren’s cheek. “I know you will.” Again she tried to smile, this time with marginally more success. “Your mother loved you so much, you know. She talked about you all the time. Lauren this and Lauren that. My Lauren, she would say, my beautiful Lauren. She was so proud of you…of both of you,” the woman added in Sam’s direction, belatedly seeking to include him.
    Sam nodded, quickly looked away.
    â€œAnyway, if there’s anything we can