there at the window, like you are nowâ¦â
Donât go there, Mom. The thought blared in his mind, but he didnât dare open his mouth to speak. He couldnât take any more memories.
ââ¦with shoulders so broad and strong, I felt as if he could handle anything. That nothing would ever hurt me as long as he was there.â Momâs words resounded with true love, like a candlelight hymn, but they bore wounds in his heart as surely as if theyâd been bullets blasting into his flesh.
He turned away, thinking of last nightâs blizzard and how it had shrouded him from the rest of the world. He made himself like that, steeling the walls of his heart.
Mom kept talking, but he wouldnât listen. He just couldnât let her in. He was like a drowning man going down for the last time. Feeling the icy waters welling up from within, he prayed for relief.
As if the angels heard and took pity on him, his cell chirped. His E.R. doc buddy Timâs number flashed on the phoneâs small screen. Youâd better have good news, man, Ryan thought. Because right now he couldnât take any more bad news.
Chapter Six
K ristin entered the post-Thanksgiving dinner calm of the unoccupied dining room, slid the Monopoly box onto the table and sank into a cushioned chair. Yawning from too much turkey, she could put her feet up and sneak in a napâyeah, as if her sisters were going to let her get away with that.
She could hear their voices throughout the house. Karen and Kirby in the kitchen talking about the familyâs beloved pony, Honeybear, which theyâd all learned to ride on and now was teaching a second generation of McKaslin girls. Their laughter rose higher and fell below the hum of the dishwasher and the clink of pots as they put the last of the hand-washed dishes away.
Kendra, who kept the pony at her riding stable, chimed in with a comment Kristin couldnât quite make out as the roar of the football game in the living room rose into a frenzied crescendo. It wouldnât feel like a holiday without Dad glued to the big-screen TV heâd splurged on and his muttering commentary on the refereeâs call was a sound sheâd heard every game day since she was little.
It was good to know some things would never change. Thatâs what got her through the sadness of sitting at this table where Gramma occupied Allisonâs chair, which had remained empty for years. With the leaves in the center, the table stretched to nearly fill the entire room. There were so many of them with the additions to their familyâher sistersâ husbands and kids. It was a good thing sheâd decided not to ever get married. Because there would be no room for another man at the table!
Oh, itâs good to be home. Kristin breathed deep, and the warm scents of this day soothed her. The spicy goodness of Grammaâs pumpkin pie warming in the oven. The vanilla candles sheâd gotten Mom last Christmas burning with a cheery brightness in the corner by the window. The steady comfort of brewing coffee seasoning the air.
She rubbed at the tension in the back of her neck. Wow, her muscles were knotted up good. It was always this way. Allisonâs loss was like a layer of ice over a cold pond of grief. No matter how many layers of snow covered it, no matter how hard her family tried to reach for that contented wholeness that used to exist, the ice was there. The loss. There was no solid place to stand on.
Youngest sister, Michelle, glowing in the second trimester of pregnancy, padded out from the kitchen with a bowl of rippled potato chips and stacked coveredbowls of different flavors of homemade dip. She unloaded them on the table. âThereâs no place like home, is there?â
âNope. Itâs good to be back.â
âThis house used to be so lonely. You knowâ¦after Allison.â Michelle peeled back the plastic wrap from the first bowl of dip. âBut