“Yes they are, sweetie,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “And they’ll always be watching over you.”
“Is that true, Aunt Hadley?” Annalise asked, looking up at me while she gripped my hand.
“It is. Heaven is a place with no more hurts or sadness, and your mom and dad will be able to watch over you from there, always.”
“Can’t they come back, though? I miss them.”
Miss Carrie gave me a sympathetic look.
“I miss them too, love,” I told Annalise, willing myself not to cry. “But no, they can’t come back.”
Her sweet round face fell with sadness. Miss Carrie asked her if she’d like a hug and she said yes. I used the momentary break to take a deep breath and remind myself that I could do this.
The past five days had been a living hell. I’d hardly slept since getting an early-morning phone call that my best friend of eleven years had been killed in a car accident along with her husband.
How? That was the question I kept asking myself. How do the lives of a beautiful, young, happy couple with a three-year-old daughter and a six-month-old son just end without warning? It was unthinkable.
When I got to their St. Louis home later that day, though, and found it filled with Ben’s teammates and other friends of Ben and Lauren, I went into the bathroom and fell to my knees, sobbing.
Life as I knew it was over. Even though I lived in New York City and Lauren lived in St. Louis, we talked several times a day, and we visited each other often. I was Annalise and Benny’s godmother.
Seeing Annalise cry for her mother had been the hardest part. I’d been sleeping with her every night in Ben and Lauren’s bed, telling her to cry as much as she needed to. She was so young, though. Even though she’d be four in a couple months, she couldn’t really comprehend what was going on.
And little Benny would never know his parents. Ben’s mom and dad, Patrick and Susan Whitmer, had traveled to their house from their home in Malibu immediately, and Susan had completely taken over care of Benny. She was rocking him in her arms in the receiving line, her eyes swollen and red.
Her baby boy was gone forever, and having his baby boy in her arms seemed to console her. Lauren’s parents had come for the services, but her mom struggled with MS and her dad was her caregiver. They couldn’t take on full-time care of the kids. Patrick and Susan would do it, though. I dreaded the moment I saw Annalise and Benny for the last time before they left for Malibu. They were my link to Lauren.
I wiped the corners of my eyes, my head bowed, and Annalise took my hand again.
I can do this. For Ben and Lauren, I can hold it together and be there for Annalise. I’ll break down later, when I’m alone.
“Hey, Hadley,” a familiar, deep male voice said.
I looked up and met the clear blue eyes of Wes Kirby. It had been disgust at first sight when we’d met seven years ago, and we’d had nothing but snippy encounters in all the times we’d seen each other since.
Christmases. Baby showers. Christenings. Weekend getaways. Annalise’s birthday parties. Wes was Ben’s best friend and the kids’ godfather. I joked with Lauren in private that Wes was like chronic diarrhea—unpleasant and impossible to escape.
I’d seen Wes at Ben and Lauren’s house in passing the last few days, but neither of us had spoken to each other. But in this moment, as he looked at me with dark circles under his eyes, his tie loosened a little like he’d been tugging on it, I felt like Wes might be the only one who truly knew what I was going through.
“Hey,” I said, practically launching myself at him in a hug.
He froze for a second, probably in shock, but then his long, strong arms closed around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my face to his chest.
“Why them?” I whispered, so softly that only he could hear me. “They were the best people I knew.”
Wes rested his cheek on the top of my head. “I know. I’d take his place if I could, in a second.”
I pulled away and straightened myself, taking another deep breath.
“Patrick and Susan wanted me to stand in the receiving line with the family,” Wes said. “I thought I’d stand here so I can help with Anna peas if you need a break.”
Annalise laughed and said, “Uncle Wes, I’m Annalise.”
“Anna freeze?” he asked her, expression serious.
She smiled wider than I’d seen her smile since I got here five days ago.
“No, it’s Annalise, Uncle Wes.”
“Ah, Anna bees. I’ve got it now.”
He reached down and picked her up, setting her on his hip and joining the receiving line. Annalise put her head on his shoulder as we greeted people coming through the line. There were hundreds. The visitation had been scheduled for four hours, but we were already two hours into it and there were hundreds of people waiting.