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  Trey had asked Alex how things were going several times, but he hadn’t received more than the classic “fine.” But what are you supposed to say? I’m falling apart actually.

  “I’ll take him to breakfast and talk to him. We haven’t done that in forever.” He sat up in bed. “Sound good?”

  “Yeah.”

  He hopped in the shower, washed, toweled, and dressed; then he went to Alex’s door and knocked. After a muffled reply, Trey opened the door and went in. “Hey, how ’bout we go to the Pancake Mill for breakfast?”

  A giant hairball poked out of the covers. “Just us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “’kay. Let me get ready.” Alex leaned up on his elbows and rubbed his hand up and down his face. Their dad had done that. Trey realized he might do it too.

  Alex didn’t take long getting ready—he must have been hungry. Trey was starving too. Thinking about a big omelet and waffle had his mouth watering. His stomach growled as they drove out onto the road. They passed through Charleston where early morning was traffic picking up. Halfway over the bridge, Trey realized they hadn’t talked at all, which had been the point of this trip. Alex had his head back against the headrest, and it looked like his eyes were closed.

  “You awake?” Trey asked with a hint of laughter. Maybe he shouldn’t have pulled Alex out of bed so early.

  “Yeah. I’ll have to get used to getting up early again next week.”

  It was Thursday already, and Trey hadn’t even thought to check on Alex’s school work. Time had been creeping by, slowly moving toward Amanda’s funeral on Saturday, but in other ways the days had gone quickly. It was like life was moving fast on the outside, but slow inside his head. “Did you talk to your teachers about your make-up work?”

  “Uh-huh. I got all my homework. Most of it’s done. I just need to finish writing a local history report.”

  “Fishing or logging?” Those were the choices around here.

  “Exploding whale, actually.”

  “Wha—Oh, yeah, I remember that.” Trey chuckled and asked, “Your teacher is letting you write a report on it?” If he remembered correctly, the highway patrol had been tasked with getting a dead whale off the beach and decided the best method was to blow it up. It had happened about ten years before Trey was born, so he just knew about it from his father’s stories.

  “It’s local and it’s history,” Alex said. “And how many times do you think people have exploded a rotting whale all over the beach?

  “Hold up. It wasn’t in Coos Bay.”

  “Nope, up the coast in Florence, but Mr. Forester said I could write about it. Guess that’s local enough. The engineer didn’t know how much dynamite they needed, so he decided half a ton should do it when they only needed six sticks. They blew whale pieces all over the place and a big chunk of blubber even flattened a car. Then the scavenger birds didn’t eat the remains like they’d thought.”

  Trey turned off the highway and headed across Coos Bay, listening to the rest of the story. Alex got worked up over the details and told the story with gusto. Too bad it wasn’t an oral presentation.

  He parked at the Pancake Mill and, as they got out, questioned if he and Rosette had anything to worry about when it came to Alex. They were the ones not dealing well with everything. Somehow Alex seemed to have his life under control.

  They were greeted by breakfast smells of pancakes, sizzling bacon, omelets, and coffee. It was their hands-down favorite breakfast place for the cozy atmosphere, friendly people, and fantastic food. They looked at the cakes and cookies in the glass cases up front while waiting to be seated, and Trey pondered what to say.

  “Right this way!” The hostess—Tori if he remembered correctly—recognized them and smiled as she led them back to a table for two, a coffee pot in one hand. She filled a cup for Trey as they sat down. “I’ll get your order in just a minute.”

  Trey settled in and picked up a menu but then paused for a minute. It felt a bit like sitting down to Grandma’s table for breakfast. It wasn’t that the Pancake Mill looked like his Grandma’s kitchen, which was his kitchen now, but life here had that same warm, homey feeling.

  Glossy wood tables dotted the room, and country touches ranged from the red cotton curtains to colorful oil paintings of barns and fields. The walls were a mix of warm brown wood and green wallpaper with lacy flowers. Rosette had actually looked for that wallpaper for their office before deciding on light green paint instead. There were also copper windmills on display, and for sale, all around the restaurant, playing into the establishment’s name.

  “I feel bad coming without Candice,” Alex said as he scanned his menu. He probably had it memorized, to tell the truth.

  “Me too,” Trey agreed. “But I’ll bring her sometime soon.” The Pancake Mill had gluten-free pancakes, muffins, and a few other things. Rosette loved bringing everyone here for breakfast so they could all have pancakes without her making two different kinds, like she did at home.

  A waitress came for their orders and refilled Trey’s coffee. Maybe he should have waited for food before drinking caffeine—he eyed the jelly packets as his stomach growled yet again. Several quiet minutes passed. It wasn’t a big deal to talk to Alex, but somehow he was making it into one.

  “So…” Alex had hot chocolate and swirled his spoon through the whipped cream. Trey laced his fingers together and gave his full attention. “You’ve been off work a while now.”

  Trey waited a minute and said, “Yes, almost two weeks. I know what you meant, about having to get up early again.” That did not sound fun at all, not after he’d been waking up so much with Hope. Rosette tended to wake up instantly at the slightest baby sound, so Trey had been training himself to sleep lighter and get up first when Hope cried during the night.

  “So you’re going back?”

  Alex sounded so surprised that Trey didn’t know what to say at first. What else would he do? “It’s my job.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” Alex set his spoon down, but he didn’t pick up his cup. Instead he stared at Trey, like he was waiting for Trey to get it.

  “So what have you been thinking?” He’d take the curious route before over-thinking this.

  Alex shrugged, but it apparently was important. “There are a ton of other things you could do. Remember when you were talking about getting back on the horse and all, you know, not letting life get you down. That helped me with taking my driver’s test, but I’ve been thinking…”

  Trey rubbed his chin and drank more coffee. He was starting to see where this train was headed, and the weird thing was, it seemed like Rosette should have been the one telling him. She hadn’t been though. She’d just been telling him for some time that he had checked out mentally since leaving the Navy. She knew it stemmed from his PTSD, and she’d been patient. Maybe everyone had been waiting on him.

  But he felt like he’d made progress. Sure, they were having problems. They’d lost people. But he’d been off work for two weeks, helping out any way he could, trying to connect more with Rosette and Alex.

  “Well, tell me the rest,” he urged, intentionally keeping his voice light.

  “You don’t have to get back up on every horse. Lots of people change jobs. It’s not giving up.”

  Their food came. Trey dug into his omelet while shaking drops of Tabasco sauce all over his plate with his other hand. After swallowing a couple bites, he said, “I’m listening. I’m just about to fall over from hunger.”

  Alex poured berry syrup over his waffles and picked up his fork. “Guess that was all of it.”

  Trey waited several more bites and then forced himself to set his fork on his plate. After a long drink of coffee, he said, “You know, it just never occurred me to try something else. I know a few guys that changed careers. Mitch got an itch to get out of air conditioning and went back to college. You know Jason Dumont from down the highway? He got money for school after the mill closed. I just never felt the need.” That last sentence m
ade him stop and think. Alex obviously saw a need.

  “Seems like it’s hard on you, dealing with accident victims. That’s all.”

  “You might be right,” Trey said, and hoped they were done discussing this. He didn’t like being in the hot seat. This little outing was about connecting with Alex and checking on him. Somehow it’d gotten turned around, and now he’d have to explain it to Rosette.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alex couldn’t believe it. He had driven home and was just pulling into their street when he spotted that girl. There were other houses on their road, but it was a private road. And since it was right off the highway, people didn’t pick this street to take their walk unless they lived here. He knew she didn’t.

  He pulled into the garage and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He turned off the car and dropped the keys in Trey’s hand. “I’m going for a walk down the street. I think I saw someone I know.” He’d seen her walking by a bunch of times…that was kinda like knowing.

  Trey looked at him then, curious, but he just nodded and went inside. Alex tore out the garage and down the street, running right past the girl, pivoting, and stepping in front of her.

  She jumped about a mile.

  “I just want to talk to you!” He stretched out his arms, trying to convince her. She glanced around at the houses. “I want to know what’s going on so I can help you.”

  “Help me?” She stared at him with big moonlike eyes, too shocked too run, he guessed.

  Her reaction startled him since he hadn’t planned this far. “Um, do you want to talk?” She looked around, jamming her hands into her pockets and then pulling them out to cross her arms. “Can I just walk with you? We can walk down to the end and back.”

  She didn’t answer but started walking slowly. He fell into step beside her. “I’ve seen you out here a lot. There must be something wrong for you to watch my house like you do all the time. Did you know Amanda?”

  “No.”

  “No? Then why have you been watching us since she died?”

  “It’s not about you,” she said quickly. Then, “Well, not exactly about you. It’s about your family. About Amanda Sinclair.”

  Somehow that both surprised him and seemed obvious. He’d first spoken to encourage her to talk and explain. Now he couldn’t think of anything to add.

  “Something happened.” She stared down at the sidewalk right in front of them.

  “I don’t understand.” But, as he said the words, it all clicked into place. “Were you there when the accident happened?”

  She started crying again. Shaking. “I caused the accident.”

  He stopped walking, unable to control his feet and put one in front of the other. She hugged herself, crying, and refused to look up at him.

  “What’s your name?” he finally asked. They’d forgotten that step. She’d probably meant to.

  “Sarah.” She wiped at her nose and her face. “Please don’t hate me.”

  Shouldn’t he? So many emotions battled inside him that he couldn’t define any one of them. So Alex tried to be analytical and think about the facts. “Tell me what happened.”

  Her breath swooshed out. “It’s so stupid. I go running out there with a friend, and then that evening I realized I must have dropped my cell phone someplace along the road. I mean, why did I even take it in the first place? My friend was supposed to go help me look, but her stupid boyfriend called. I should have just waited.” She looked down at the street while she walked. “So I was out there in the dark with just a little flashlight, desperate to find my phone. There was something out in the middle of the road. At first I thought that was it. But as I got closer, I realized it was slowly moving. It was one of those cute pond turtles…and I thought I should move it. The poor thing would get run over.”

  They reached the end and turned around. There was a spot between a couple houses where they could look out at the ocean. He walked to that spot simply so they wouldn’t be in front of a house.

  “I could see down the road. It was clear. I ran out to pick it up. Then suddenly lights were on me. I guess her car came around the corner from the other direction. I don’t know why I didn’t see the headlights coming. I didn’t hear the car. The wind I guess. Then it went crazy. The car. It jerked one way and then tilted the other.”

  He still couldn’t say anything. Alex pictured Amanda’s face in the car, in black and white from the dash lights, as her eyes went wide and she yanked the steering wheel. Maybe it happened too fast for her to realize what was happening. He hoped she didn’t see it coming, that she just hit her head and was gone. The images wouldn’t stop and he gagged.

  “Are you going to turn me in?”

  He stepped back, pulling in a breath. Trying to think. It felt like his lungs had collapsed and couldn’t function. Turn her in? That made sense. Sort of. Why did she come to him if she wasn’t confessing? If she wasn’t going to turn herself in?

  “Don’t you think someone will find your phone out there?”

  “I found it in my car later.” Sarah watched him with a white face. “What are you going to do?”

  Alex wasn’t sure how he could do that to someone—to turn someone in, to turn her in. He knew if he told Trey and Rosette, then they would have to go to the police. He shook his head and held up his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” If only he could just forget he had ever talked to her. “I should get back home.”

  He walked away quickly, panic rising in him like stomach acid. Maybe it was puke running up his throat. He ran inside and up to his room, not sure or even caring if anyone saw him.

  He didn’t know what to do with this. He had to tell someone, right? Had to do the right thing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  This had seemed like a much better idea back at her own house. And why had she picked the day before the funeral to come over to Amanda’s place?

  Rosette closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a minute. She stood just inside the front door of Amanda’s duplex. Several empty boxes lay at her feet. She’d dropped them to the floor as soon as she came in. Now she opened her eyes and picked one up, wondering what to box up first. Then she remembered the camera in her purse. She set down the box, dug out the camera, and slowly walked through the home, taking pictures of the rooms: the living room with ocean photos and floral prints on the walls, the nursery that Amanda had decorated with posters of baby animals and cartoon characters, and the bedroom with a framed picture of Ricky in uniform on the nightstand. To some, it might have seemed like a strange thing to do, but someday Hope would be curious about how her parents had lived. Rosette documented the entire home, even the outside, before dropping the camera back in her purse and thinking about her next task.

  What would Amanda and Ricky want to pass down to their daughter?

  What would Hope want, later on, when she asked about her parents and tried to figure out who they were?

  Rosette took down the pictures and put them all in one large box; she also added the photos on the fridge and anything that looked like a letter. There was a list on the fridge that contained baby items in Amanda’s handwriting. Rosette even saved that. She packed the laptop as well so she could save any pictures on it. Summer might want the computer, she realized.

  She had actually asked Summer if she wanted to do this, or come along, but Summer was dead set against ever coming here again.

  It didn’t take as long as Rosette had expected. And there was an even bigger surprise—she didn’t cry the entire time. She actually smiled over a few pictures. She packed some of Amanda’s necklaces and favorite shirts. Part of her worried she would pack away too much and it would overwhelm Hope, but…this would be all she had of her parents. She filled four boxes with things from both Ricky and Amanda and then sat on the sofa, looking around. Trey would take the furniture to Goodwill later today. Soon the duplex would be bare.

  All the facts seem to say Amanda had wanted to
end her life. For some reason, maybe because she was stubborn, Rosette just couldn’t believe it. She’d been doubting and hoping, but sitting here where Amanda had lived, she knew. Amanda loved life and making other people laugh. She had wanted her baby more than anything. Even with Ricky gone, she had been eagerly anticipating about her child’s life.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rosette whispered, hoping somehow, somewhere, Amanda knew.

  ~ ~ ~

  Trey bumped his foot on the floor, keeping the rocking chair in slow motion—back and forth, back and forth, back and forth—and watched Hope drift off to sleep. Her empty bottle sat on the end table beside him. Afternoon light slanted in the windows, filtering through the light rain falling outside. There must have been a raincloud right above them. A rainbow danced on the air over the ocean. He could see dark spots underneath clouds hovering across the vast expanse, yet sunshine pierced through as well.

  He still debated if he should have insisted on going with Rosette to Amanda and Ricky’s place. He wanted to there for her. He wanted them to be there for each other again. They’d been busy so he hadn’t told her everything about his breakfast with Alex, just that the two of them had talked quite a bit.

  Yesterday after breakfast, he had thought things had gone really well with Alex, but then Alex had shut himself in his room most of the day. He’d said he was working on that history paper, but it wasn’t like Alex to hide out. Trey went over their conversation and wondered again if he had missed something.

  Spinning his wheels. That’s how he felt all the time lately. He pulled a long breath in through his nose and exhaled. At least he had some quiet in the house for a while, with Rosette out, Jake taking a rare nap, and Candice engrossed in a toy parade in her room. He had stopped in the doorway and watched for a few minutes as she set up. All her stuffed animals were lined along the bed and walls. The smaller toys were gathered by the door. Candice started a parade, moving each toy forward a step, working her way down the line of toys. It usually took her an hour or more to circle the room that way. No one knew where she’d gotten the idea, but it was one of her favorite pastimes in her room.