Night, Forgotten

Original Edition - Chapter 24: Then

Diana didn't speak on the short drive from the funeral home to her condominium. Echoes of that empty refrain, "I'm sorry for your loss," seemed to blast intrusively through the heating vents with the stale air. The inside of Owen's Subaru felt suffocating, as if we'd all been shut inside a coffin together.

After a few excruciating, silent minutes, we pulled into the driveway of the modest ranch where Diana had lived since Owen went to college. Once she'd downsized her obligations to consist of volunteer work at St. Catherine's and its adjoining crisis pregnancy center, it made sense for her to move within a few blocks of the church.

Sadie's babysitter, another volunteer caregiver from the congregation, was waiting for us at the kitchen table when we walked in the back door. Before she left, she informed us that Sadie had just gone down for her afternoon nap. I was disappointed that we wouldn't have the chance to spend time with the little girl, especially when she was going through something so awful.

But a part of me that I wasn't proud of hoped this meant that Owen and I would be able to hit the road without having to stay and visit with Diana.

Apparently, Owen had similar thoughts. "Well, Mom, it's going to take us a while to get back, with traffic and everything," he said. We stood in the middle of the linoleum floor as she unpacked her purse at the counter. "Are you going to be okay here with Sadie for the night?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'll be okay here with Sadie." Diana was busy removing a loaf of bread from its foil wrapping. "This is Cindy's banana nut bread from the bake sale last Sunday," she said, arranging it on a ceramic plate. "I can't eat the whole thing myself." She gestured toward the kitchen table. "Sit. Have a slice before you get on the road."

Owen's face lit up and he started to remove his coat. "Thanks, Mom." He settled into one of the ladder-back chairs around the table. "That looks delicious. Julie, do you want some?"

I leaned against the kitchen island, most of my weight on my elbow. Ever since we'd arrived at the funeral home earlier that afternoon, I'd felt nauseated. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling in the first trimester of my pregnancy. But that banana nut loaf smelled rancid to my hormonal senses, and I didn't want to end up vomiting all over Diana's linoleum floor.

"No thanks," I said as politely as I could. "Sadie can have my slice when she wakes up from her nap."

Diana shook her head. "She doesn't like the nuts." "What's going to happen with Sadie, now?" Owen asked. Diana picked at the slice of bread in front of her.

"I'm going to raise her."

Owen sat upright on the edge of his chair. "On your own?"

"Of course not," she said. "Father Eagan and I put together a whole roster of folks who are going to be helping out, every day." She straightened up defensively. "But yes, she will be living here and I'll be her primary caregiver."

"That's a big deal, Mom." Owen's eyes darted between me and his mother, as if he expected me to weigh in with an opinion. "When was the last time she lived here, with you?"

"Well, it's been a few months. It seemed like Paula had gotten back on her feet recently, so Sadie had been living with her." Diana broke off a piece of her bread and nibbled at it. "It's going to be hard for Sadie. It already has been."

"It's going to be tough on you, too, Mom," Owen said. Diana nodded benevolently. "But really, it's the least I can do for her mother."

The least she could do.

Listening to the two of them discuss Sadie's future, the vague, uncomfortable feelings I'd noticed whirling around at the funeral home started clicking into place.