One September Morning. Rosalind Noonan

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СКАЧАТЬ Coast humidity for the dry air, even if it meant skies were gray for much of the year. They had met back east while John was at Rutgers and Abby attended Wagner College on Staten Island. Geographically challenged from the start, the logistics of their relationship only got worse as John signed on to play football with the Seattle Seahawks while Abby remained in the dorms on Grymes Hill to finish her senior year at Wagner. New York to Seattle, tough commute.

      Abby presses her palms to the familiar kitchen table. This place became her home in the past year. Their home. Although she stopped making three-egg omelets and buying green salads that wilted in the refrigerator, she still considers herself part of a couple, half of a whole.

      And now the other half is gone.

      The sergeant holds up two pamphlets and then places them on the kitchen table. “I’ll leave these here for you to go through when things quiet down. They’ve got everything you’ll need to know about benefits, burial, and setting up the funeral.”

      A funeral. She’s supposed to bury her husband. It all seems incongruous. “I’m having trouble processing at the moment,” Abby says flatly.

      “And that’s no surprise.” Suz places a fresh mug of coffee in front of her, tips some cream from a small pitcher into it, stirs for her.

      Abby wonders who had the presence of mind to bring cream. She and John are strictly one percent milk people.

      John was. Would she ever get used to saying that?

      “We can handle all the arrangements for you, Abby,” he is saying. “As much as you like.”

      As her CAO, Sgt. Palumbo has already explained many of these things for Abby, but although she has been sitting politely and trying to listen, she feels as if she’s playing a role, pretending to be herself in her own home while friends and strangers pass through the kitchen extending regrets and condolences. Now that the initial shock has worn thin, she’s operating on autopilot, going through all the motions of talking and breathing though her mind is a million miles away fighting the information that John is gone. She cannot believe it. It seems ludicrous that such information could simply be passed to Sgt. Palumbo to pass on to her. Maybe the information is wrong. “Can I ask you…” She lifts her face to the sergeant. “Has the army ever made a mistake in something like this? I mean, maybe they’ve got the wrong guy.”

      He sighs. “I’ve never heard of it happening. At least, not in our lifetime. When John’s remains arrive at Dover Air Force Base, they’ll run tests to verify his identity.”

      “Oh.” She would like to hang her hopes on the delusion that a huge mistake was made, and she would if she could just get rid of this sick feeling in her stomach.

      “Have you thought about a final resting place?” the sergeant asked.

      A grave. Abby shakes her head. “John wanted to be cremated,” she said. “We both do.” At least they had discussed that much at the funeral of one of John’s college teammates who had died in an accident. The kid’s parents had made the unfortunate choice to have the casket open, and the body laid out in a bed of satin looked nothing like the vibrant defensive end who had helped the Scarlet Knights to victory. “No open coffin,” John said. “That’s just creepy. And burn what’s left of me. Ashes to ashes.”

      “Cremation is a viable option,” Sgt. Palumbo says, “but you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it. Discuss the possibilities with family if you like, and I’ll be here to assist you when the time comes.”

      “And you know I’ll help, too.” Suz reaches across the table and squeezes Abby’s wrist. “I’ve been through it before.” The tip of Suz’s nose turns bright red and tears shine in her eyes.

      Abby places a hand over Suz’s and nods. The wounds are still fresh from Scott’s death and now Suz is here to suffer again. It’s so wrong.

      Sgt. Palumbo excuses himself to talk to someone in the living room, and Abby takes a deep breath.

      “This is surreal. These people in my house. All the food and conversation. It seems festive, and maybe that’s not wrong. John would hate for anyone to wax morose over him.”

      “At least you’ve got Sharice. She’s quite the diplomat,” Suz says, and they both glance out toward the living room. Although Abby cannot see her mother-in-law she can hear her remarking on how she’s going to extract the secret recipe for someone’s sour cream noodle casserole.

      “Sharice is so good with things like this,” Abby says. She had long admired her mother-in-law’s ability to hostess with charm and grace.

      “And she’s all-army. She really knows the culture. She and Madison were a tremendous help when we lost Scott.”

      Over on the rocking chair, John’s teenage sister Madison holds Sofia in her lap, reading The Very Noisy Morning for the umpteenth time. How good of Madison to entertain Sofia when she herself is hurting. She and John were close.

      “Yes, Noah will be home just as soon as they can get him the flights back,” Sharice is saying. “Certainly in time for the funeral. It will be good to see him.”

      Abby’s mouth puckers involuntarily. “Thank God Noah didn’t get taken out, too. At least he’ll have some answers when he gets here, some specifics of what happened to John.”

      “I’m sure he will, sweetie,” Suz says.

      “As if that matters. I mean, if he’s really gone, knowing the details isn’t going to bring him back. I’m sorry, my mind isn’t working properly anymore.”

      “No need to apologize. You’re not supposed to be sweet and rational right now. You’re supposed to throw up your arms and holler and blubber. Let it go like an elephant trumpeting over the savannah.” Her arms flailing, Suz lets out a wild, bestial howl.

      Silence falls over the house. A moment later two women peek into the kitchen. “Everything okay in here?” a woman with short-cropped black hair asks cautiously.

      “We’re just mad as hell,” Suz answers. “But all things considered…” She shrugs. “Whatcha gonna do?”

      “It’s a difficult time,” says the woman with black hair.

      “I am so sorry for your loss,” the other woman says, crossing to Abby. Her startlingly blue eyes shine with compassion, and Abby realizes it’s Peri Corbett, from across the way. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

      “I will,” Abby promises, warmed by the genuine sincerity of the people who’ve dropped everything to come to her house this afternoon.

      “I got a fresh pot of coffee here,” Suz says. “Can I get you a cup, Peri?”

      As normal chatter resumes, Suz serves up two mugs, then heads out to the living room with the coffeepot in hand. She passes Sharice under the arch, offering a refill.

      “No, thanks.” Sharice shakes her head briskly. “Any more coffee and I’ll be bouncing from wall to wall.” She places her mug in the sink and then turns to Abby, who can sense her mother-in-law gearing up for an important question.

      Abby glances up at her, encouragingly.

      “I want you to know,” СКАЧАТЬ