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  It was still dark outside, but the faint touch of light gray indicated dawn wasn’t too far off. The rain had stopped, and it felt surprisingly balmy. The wind normally chapped your face here on the coast, but this felt like a summer breeze. Something about that felt out of place.

  Harry looked out toward the parking lot. “I talked to Officers Jones and Havera. They were both on the scene. It looks as if Amanda suddenly veered hard and flipped the car over the side rail and down an embankment, out on Seven Devils Road.”

  Why would Amanda be out there so late at night? Yes, it was on the peninsula where they lived, but that road was on the opposite side, over by the bay. And Amanda lived all the way up past Coos Bay, in North Bend.

  There wouldn’t be any ice on a warm night like this, warm for Oregon anyway. It had been pouring down rain, but Coos Bay got sixty inches of rain a year, so everyone knew how to drive on wet roads. There were certainly deer, raccoons, and other animals prowling around that caused the occasional accident. But more often than not, the animal got the worse end of the deal, and the driver usually drove off.

  “Was there another car involved?”

  Harry shook his head.

  “Skid marks?”

  Another shake. So Amanda didn’t hit the brakes. She just veered sharply around something and lost control. They stood silently for a minute until Harry said, “She just lost her husband. Is it possible she was suicidal?”

  It was a sensitive question, but they were accustomed to issues like this.

  “She’s pregnant,” Trey said. Or was pregnant.

  “The funeral might have been too much. People aren’t rational when they lose someone.”

  They shouldn’t have left her alone last night. He shouldn’t have.

  Trey raked his hands through his hair. “I just can’t imagine her doing something like that, not with her baby on the way. That’s Ricky’s child. She wouldn’t.” He sounded more confident than he felt, even to his own ears.

  Harry nodded, agreeing, it seemed. “All right. I’m taking you back off the schedule, Trey. Stay home with your family.”

  That sounded like an order.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rosette stretched, paced, and sat back down again. She desperately wanted to call Angel but couldn’t bring herself to believe this was real. Calling anyone would make it real. Plus, she had no idea what had happened, what was going on…what she would tell anyone.

  Trey came back in, his face serious with thought. The mental wheels were turning. That meant it wasn’t a cut-and-dry case on what had caused the accident.

  Trey wasn’t alone, Rosette realized with a start. Summer walked into the room behind him, her eyes red. She must have heard some of the details already.

  “The hospital called you too?” Rosette asked, shocked that she hadn’t thought of it herself. This was Amanda’s little sister after all.

  “No, Alex called.”

  Rosette looked at Trey. That couldn’t be good. She went to Summer, put an arm around her, and guided her to a loveseat. It felt nice to hang onto someone else. Summer broke down and tried to dampen the noise with the end of her sleeve. “I called her just a few hours ago to check in…”

  The door opened again. Dr. Rosenberg looked grim as she entered the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair…” She paused, looking at Summer.

  “This is Summer McNelly, Amanda’s sister.”

  The doctor’s eyes seemed to say what Rosette had already thought: Summer was young, way too young, to deal with his.

  “Is my sister okay?” Summer asked.

  Rosette met Trey’s eyes. They could have told Summer what was going on already. They both looked away. Guilt maybe?

  Dr. Rosenberg bent slightly forward, almost over them, and spoke quietly. “There was no way to save Amanda. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Amanda was gone?

  She had been holding out hope without realizing it. Wouldn’t they have felt something if Amanda had died? Sensed it somehow? Rosette pulled Summer closer to her—but she was so stiff it was like comforting a totem pole. Summer’s face was blank, her eyes staring straight ahead like she wasn’t in the room at all.

  A minute later, the doctor quietly said, “We were able to get the baby in time. It’s a girl.” The doctor didn’t announce the usual, “It’s a girl!” Everything felt so wrong.

  Rosette met Trey’s gaze for a second and saw the pure terror before she had to look away.

  Horror at what happened?

  Horror at this new complication, escalating everything? What would they do now? Maybe she was throwing her emotions onto him.

  She glanced at Summer, who was in shock. Trey wasn’t doing much better.

  After losing his brother, this would be too much for him. She had to be the strong one tonight. She looked at the doctor, hoping she’d find the words but couldn’t for a full minute. When her throat loosened, she simply asked, “The baby?”

  “She’s healthy and perfect … Would you like to meet her?”

  Chapter Four

  His niece. His responsibility.

  Trey, Rosette, and Summer gazed down at the tiny girl, wrapped in a pink blanket. She had just a hint of hair on her head, enough to tell it was blond, maybe even strawberry blond. She had the newborn, barely-there eyebrows and a tiny rosy mouth. Faint red blotches speckled her face. A tiny square paper in the corner of the hospital bassinet said “Baby Sinclair,” 6 lbs, 2 oz; 21 inches

  Trey got the urge to put his arm around Rosette. It seemed like the natural thing to do, even with all their troubles. The nurses coming and going might even think it strange if he didn’t. But he just couldn’t. What would she think if he did? Rosette was holding on to Summer anyway. The three of them just stood there stiffly, looking at the baby.

  The other babies in the room were preemies or had problems. The healthy babies usually stayed in the room with their mom, Trey remembered from their two times here.

  It seemed that he should feel something for this tiny baby. He should feel something in general, shouldn’t he? It didn’t seem possible that this numbness was related to his PTSD, but that possibility scared him more any anything. That he’d just be numb or scared for the rest of his life. That’s all he ever felt anymore.

  Rosette leaned over, gently touching the sleeping baby’s cheek.

  The doctor walked in quietly behind them. “You can hold her,” Dr. Rosenberg said.

  Rosette straightened, her face panicked. “No—I can’t yet. I’m too shaky.”

  The doctor tried for a reassuring smile. “She’s doing great. That’s a very healthy birth weight, and she made it through the wreck without any trauma that we have detected. A pregnancy is considered full term at this stage, so she won’t have any health issues over the early delivery.”

  Delivery seemed such an odd word for this case.

  “We typically keep all newborns overnight, as you know, but in this case, it might be two or three days.” She said some other things that drifted over both of them. Apparently aware that they were still dealing with their shock, she gave Rosette’s arm a squeeze on her way out.

  Trey looked up at the clock. It was almost six in the morning and, he thought, getting light outside. Alex was waiting for news, and Trey still hadn’t asked Rosette what she’d told him earlier. Trey looked at Rosette and could tell she was thinking the same thing. Glancing down at the baby, she said, “Let’s talk in the hallway.”

  Summer barely looked up as they left. They stepped into the hall and walked far enough away that Summer wouldn’t hear.

  Trey knew this baby was their legal responsibility. Six months ago, Ricky had told him he was adding a guardian clause to his will—he was obviously taking his upcoming fatherhood seriously—and he’d asked Trey to be the guardian in case the unthinkable ever happened. Even without the legal paperwork, there wasn’t anyone else. Amanda’s mother lived in an assisted living facility in Nebraska. As far as he knew, she wasn’t even coherent all the time. A
manda’s father had abruptly taken off when she was ten, with no sign of him since.

  “We just could tell them,” Rosette said, “That we can’t do this, can’t take the baby in.”

  Trey couldn’t tell if she was saying that because she didn’t think they should, or because she wanted to play the devil’s advocate, thus pushing him to argue in favor of keeping the baby. Who else was there? Summer was a messed-up teenager. Well, okay, she was twenty or twenty-one, but she acted like a fifteen year old. And she had a record.

  “I’m not sure how we can do that,” he said, with the strange feeling she was abandoning ship.

  “But can we—” she broke off and lowered her voice, “take a baby home and then, then what?”

  He sighed and rolled his head back and around and finally just gave up and stared up at the ceiling. No heavenly answers floated down.

  “Trey.” Rosette waited until he looked at her. “How’s this going to end up? Are you planning to leave me with Candice and Jake, and take Alex and this baby? Or are you thinking I’ll take care of the baby? I don’t think Summer can handle it.”

  He stepped back. Rosette must feel like I’m putting this decision on her. Isn’t that what he did? Ran off, and left her with the tough choices? He wasn’t always like this. He didn’t want to be like this now. “I didn’t think that far ahead, and no, I didn’t think about which way we’ll exactly split our family up.”

  Our family hung in the air, softening the otherwise sharp words.

  She was playing hardball here, and he wondered if he had finally pushed her too far with his episodes, his distance, and now all of this. Yes, he had said the word divorce first. Maybe to protect himself, or to push her, or maybe just to get it over with. If he didn’t know what he wanted, perhaps that meant they shouldn’t act yet. She remained silent; so did he.

  Finally, Trey held up his palms and said, “We could just keep up this charade for a while longer.”

  She slanted another glance at him with light blue eyes rimmed with a darker blue. It always seemed to him that her eyes looked even lighter when she was mad. Icy. That’s how they looked now, which matched her stiff composure and silent treatment. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked.

  “Than just holding off again?” She exhaled, her shoulders sagging with the departing air. Her anger left as well. “I can’t handle this much stress, every single minute, everything hanging.” Her voice trembled.

  He stepped closer and only caught himself at the last second before he reached out to her. Some people develop ulcers under stress. Rosette responded with her entire body, getting sick to her stomach, losing sleep, and feeling too mentally foggy to get anything done. She’d be in that limbo now, and somehow he hadn’t thought about that.

  “Ricky and I promised each other,” he said, firmly this time, the memory floating into his mind with a strange vividness. “Promised we’d be there to take care of things if it ever needed done.” A fine moment of clarity hit: “Rosette, we’re going to put our personal issues aside for now, so we can focus on the kids, Alex, and this little girl. We have bigger responsibilities.”

  He had almost mentioned Summer in that list of people. His grandfather and father had both taught him that family is family. And for his family, that term meant more than bloodlines. They had never turned anyone away. He’d grown up with a large family, including any relative that needed a place to stay, or even strangers who had wandered into their lives. Trey missed it now that so many were gone.

  Rosette looked down, her brows drawing together. Her family hadn’t been the foundation she’d needed, and she’d wholeheartedly taken on his family identity. Rosette knew his thoughts; she might even understand his feelings more deeply than he did.

  A minute passed. “Okay.”

  ~ ~ ~

  It was just before seven when Trey called home. He and Rosette were sitting in the family waiting room. Summer was with the baby. Rosette leaned forward in her chair, impatient to know how Alex and the kids were doing, so thankful Alex could handle things at home right now.

  “Hey, Alex,” Trey greeted, then listened. “No, don’t worry about school today for Candice and Jake… It’s a bit complicated.”

  She could hear Alex after that. “But they’re okay?”

  Trey paused too long. Finally, he chose his words carefully and said, “We’ll be home as quickly as we can to talk. Just hang tight for a bit.”

  He hung up and looked at her. “We have to go tell them.”

  “Together.” Her tentative word sounded like a statement and question at the same time. “I’ll talk to Summer, and then we can leave.”

  Trey stood as she did. They’d been sitting close enough that when they stood, they were standing right next to each other. Somehow old habits prevailed, and his arms slipped around her; hers wrapped around his neck. Rosette wasn’t sure who had embraced the other, or how it happened, but she held onto him as tightly as he held her. His heart beat with hers, under his shaky breathing.

  He was close to tears.

  That shook her more than anything had that day.

  She closed her eyes. Make it all go away.

  This was Trey, her rock and center. She breathed in his scent and remembered a thousand little details about the life they had built together. Their anniversary trips. Their home. Their children.

  He cleared his throat and pulled away. She nodded and turned, leaving without looking back at him.

  Maybe, she thought as she walked down the hallway, it had been a lapse from everything. Even if they separated, it wasn’t wrong to offer each other support and comfort for a few seconds. Any human would give that to another.

  Rosette found Summer holding the baby and singing to her in a beautiful, heavenly voice. The sweet voice stopped Rosette. Summer sounded like that famous singer Beyoncé. This didn’t match up at all with Rosette’s idea of Summer. Suddenly she wondered if Summer could take the baby. The scene threw Rosette for a loop so far her head spun.

  Summer looked over. “The nurses are calling her Baby Jane.”

  They’d named her? Who were they to pick out a name? Then it hit her. They were calling her Jane Doe.

  Rosette didn’t like it at all and wanted to say a few choice words to them, until she realized “Jane” might be better than “the baby,” or even worse, “it.”

  Putting that aside for the time being, she told Summer, “We need to go home and talk to the kids. Are you planning to stay awhile?”

  Summer’s head jerked up. Rosette was taken aback by the fear in her eyes. She turned away, rocking the baby, maybe rocking herself, mumbling what sounded like, “I can’t believe all this.”

  Rosette laid a hand on her arm. “Summer? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think I can go back to Amanda’s place. Not without her.” She looked at Rosette, her face crumpled and ready to cry. She was looking at Rosette like she’d fix everything.

  “You don’t have to go back there,” Rosette said, and suddenly remembered her promise to Amanda to help with anything she needed. “We’re going home to talk to Alex. Do you want to come with us?”

  “No… I don’t want her to be alone.”

  Rosette squeezed Summer’s shoulders. “Okay. Call me if you need anything. And don’t worry. You can come over to our house when you’re ready.” It was hard to look away—to walk away—from the look in Summer’s eyes. They nodded at each other as Rosette went out the door. None of this would be easy.

  She left to find Trey, feeling like she was walking through a dense fog. Halfway home, Rosette realized that neither of them had said a word. She’d been thinking about how and when to tell the kids. Candice might be old enough to understand that Aunt Amanda wouldn’t come over anymore, and that she had gone to heaven.

  When they were close to the house, Rosette glanced at Trey and said, “I told Summer she’s welcome at the house whenever she’s ready to come. She doesn’t want to go back to Amanda’s.”

  Trey nodded wi
thout glancing over. They arrived home, and he pulled into the garage and turned off the car. Rosette felt cold and stiff, and found it hard to move. Only then did she remember that she’d been up all night. She was tired, emotionally drained, and feeling all the pain and loss physically—she hurt all over as if she’d been beat up.

  She looked at Trey, who wasn’t moving either. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, one hand massaging his forehead. As much as she dreaded the thought of talking through all this, they would need to decide a few things together.

  The door from the garage into the house flew open. Trey came back to life, sitting forward and opening his car door. “Alex,” he said as he stood. Rosette stepped out of the car and saw Alex’s anxious face.

  Trey walked closer to him and set a hand on his shoulder. Instead of saying anything, he shook his head. They all stood in silence. Finally, Trey said, “There was an accident out on the highway last night. Her car rolled down an embankment. The doctors were able to save the baby.”

  Alex nodded and turned abruptly, rushing back into the house. Trey stared after him for a few seconds before he moved.

  Inside, it was quiet. Rosette hung up her sweater and walked through the kitchen. The kids had eaten and had left cereal bowls in the sink. She listened and heard their muffled voices. It sounded like they were playing in Jake’s room.

  She didn’t see Trey but went up to Alex’s door and knocked. There was a noise so she opened the door. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, bent over so she couldn’t see his face. She sat down and rested a hand on his back, wondering if there was anything she could say. There wasn’t. Not right now. Instead she sat with him, watching the minutes go by on his alarm clock, until she heard Candice and Jake running down the hall, calling for her.

  “I’ll need to talk to them too.”

  She knew she was operating in a sleep-deprived haze but there was no way around it. Rosette had done this many times after staying up with Candice. They’d been through lung infections, ear infections, and sinus infections many times in her seven years. She’d been hospitalized three times. Then Rosette began researching two years ago and started trying a gluten-free diet. To their amazement, it helped decrease Candice’s asthma symptoms and lessened the severity of her colds. Still, it made Rosette nervous to think she might be dealing with both a sick daughter and a newborn baby shortly. Spring was the worst season for allergies and asthma.