“It’s not terrible. You had no idea this would happen. Your mom was in great shape. No reason to think—”
“I should’ve come home more.” There were tears in his voice now.
I leaned forward and grabbed one of his hands. “Hey, how long we been friends?”
“Forever.”
“Right. So if you can trust anyone to tell you whether you’re a good son, it’s me. Robert, you’re a good son.”
“Was. Was a good son,” he said, and broke down completely. I sat next to him while he cried. Put an arm around him. I cried too. Mary had been more than the kind face at every Sunday-morning and Wednesday-night Mass. She’d been my mom’s best friend. My dad’s too. She’d been my godmother, the person who had defended me when my own mother wouldn’t after I’d broken the church’s stained glass window. She’d been a woman with something more than insight and empathy. She’d had grace.
We talked for a bit longer about her. Good memories this time: her infallible faith, how she’d been in great health and spirits right up to the last minute. Robert told me what the plans were for her service. I said I was there for him, whatever he needed.
On the way out of the drive, I couldn’t help looking at the stable. Mary had trained all of us kids to ride. Kel still rode every so often out here and had told me several times she couldn’t wait to get her girls on the horses when they were old enough.
I still recalled that first lesson when I was only six. The sharp scents of manure and oats. How the horse’s eyes had been dark and knowing as I walked up to pet him. The soft mane under my fingers.
And prior to letting the animal out of its stall, Mary turning to me and bending down so her face was only inches from mine, saying, The very most important thing about riding is safety, and safety comes from being aware, Andrew. Always be aware of where you are and where the horse is.
And don’t ever, ever walk up to a horse from behind.
“Don’t turn this into one of your plots, Andy,” Kel said.
We were sitting in the shade of Dad’s backyard. Sweet smoke rolled from beneath the grill’s lid, and the beer in my hand was so cold, it stung. Kel’s girls, Alicia and Emmy, were trying to tackle Dad by holding on to his legs. He was dragging them along in slow Frankenstein steps.
“It’s sad enough as it is,” she said, taking a long sip from her beer. Kel had cut her hair the week before and was trying new blonde highlights that made her look younger than her thirty-one years, even though she didn’t need it. I used to tease her about having a baby face; now I was starting to envy her.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t exploit this by making it into something it isn’t.”
“You ever see her walk up to a horse from behind? Ever?”
“No. But I didn’t live with her either. Everyone gets careless and makes mistakes.”
I looked up two houses into Rachel’s backyard. It was quiet. Empty. My eyes shifted to Mr. Allen Crane’s residence. I missed what Kel said next.
“What?”
“I said it’s a tragedy—don’t make it worse.”
“I’m just sitting here with a beer in the shade talking with my sister. That’s all.”
“Then let’s talk about something else or I’ll start crying again.”
“You know much about that Crane guy down the street?”
“The one who moved in last summer? No. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Haven’t seen him since . . . the get-together over at the Barrens’ last year.”
My stomach clenched at that. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him since then either. Wasn’t sure if I’d seen him that day disappearing around the corner of the house after Rachel kissed me. Wasn’t sure at all about Mr. Allen Crane from down the street.
“Steaks are burning,” Kel said.
I leaped up from the chair and tended them. They weren’t burning; Kel didn’t know the first thing about grilling. I informed her of that by pouring a dollop of cold beer down the back of her shirt. She called me something that would’ve made our mother’s head spin around in a circle and tried hitting me in the crotch. Sibling love.
The girls came bounding up and stood rocking from foot to foot, both asking the same thing but out of sync with one another. “Can we go inside and watch TV till dinner?”
“What did Grampa say?” Kel asked.
“That he’s tired,” Alicia said. We laughed as Dad dropped into a chair beside us with a groan.