“I don’t want to be covered up with dirt. Why did they cover Grandma with dirt?”

“Because Grandma died,” Sarah said gently.

“And so she went to heaven to be with God and Jesus and Mary and all the saints and angels,” Meg added, entering the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe.

“Is Grandma with angels now?” Ella asked, looking into her mother’s eyes.

Sarah nodded. “Yes, and they’re going to keep Grandma company and make sure she won’t be lonely.”

Ella reached up to touch Sarah’s face, her small hand gentle on her mother’s cheek. “Can we go see her?”

“Someday.” Sarah kissed Ella. “But not now, because Daddy would miss us, and Grandpa needs us. Maybe we should go see Grandpa now?”

“And then we can go home?”

“Not to our house. But maybe to Aunt Meg and Uncle Jack’s. We’re staying with Aunt Meg and Uncle Jack for a few nights, remember?”

“Without Daddy?”

“Daddy had to go back to Tampa, but we’ll see him in a few days.”

“I want to go home now.”

“I think you’re tired, sweetheart. I know I’m tired. It’s been a really long day.” Sarah glanced at Meg, and then Jack. “Do you think we could leave soon?”

Meg glanced at Jack, and he nodded.

“I’ll round up the kids,” Meg said. “Let Dad know we’re leaving.”

“Great.” Sarah kissed Ella’s cheek, snuggling her closer, needing her sweet girl’s warmth tonight. “I’ll get Brennan and we’ll say our good-byes.”

Two

An hour and a half later, Sarah was in her pajamas in bed in the guest room on the second floor of Meg and Jack’s big shingled house in Santa Rosa. Ella slept next to her, and eight-year-old Brennan was on the floor in his sleeping bag, wearing headphones and watching a movie on his laptop.

“Need anything?” Meg asked, hovering in the doorway. “Water, tea, something to eat?”

Sarah shook her head and pushed heavy honey-blond hair from her face, wishing she’d pulled it back in a loose ponytail for bed. “I’m good, Meg.”

“You’re sure? I can go make you something—”

“I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry so much.”

Meg’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I just want you comfortable.”

“And I am.” Sarah glanced down at Ella where she slept curled on her side, facing Sarah, her thumb popped into her mouth. Ella only did that when she was stressed and it made Sarah’s chest ache. “What a strange, long day.”

“And a strange, long year,” Meg agreed, her voice husky. “This time last year we thought everything was wonderful. Mom was healthy. We were all good, and then just weeks later at our Girls’ Getaway, we found out the cancer was back and there was nothing to be done.” Suddenly she crossed the room, adjusted the heavy pale green velvet drapes, which had been drawn for the night, making sure there was no crack between fabric panels. “It was brutal . . . all those months waiting for Mom to die.”

“Praying for a miracle,” Sarah added.

“She deserved one,” Meg said, exhaling hard as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Sarah reached out to her. “Come, sit,” she insisted, waiting for Meg to take her hand and then take a seat on the edge of the bed next to her. “You okay?”

Meg blinked away tears. “No. You?”

Sarah’s throat and eyes burned as she shook her head.