After a short prayer from a pastor her father had found, she waited while everyone placed a single white rosebud on the coffin lid. Since there were no human remains, they were burying a single object—the blackened baseball cap. Slowly, the small white coffin with its white satin lining that only Sadie had seen was lowered into a muddy pit in the Cherished Children section of Hope Haven Cemetery. She watched it disappear into the gaping hole and her heart sank with it.
Tears streamed down her face, and she shuffled closer. As she hovered at the edge, she yearned for someone to push her in. She wouldn’t even fight them if they did.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the soft scent of a white rose.
Then she tossed it into the pit.
“Sleep, little man,” she said in a trembling voice. “Snug as—”
She broke down, sobbing hysterically.
“Come on, honey,” her mother said, gently taking her arm.
“I’m so sorry,” Sadie wailed. “Forgive me, Sam!”
“Let him go, Sadie.”
“How do I do that, Mom? How do I say goodbye to my baby?”
“I don’t know, honey,” her mother said, batting away a tear. . No mother should ever have to bury her child.”
They shuffled toward the car, each engulfed in misery.
That evening, Sadie couldn’t take it anymore. The constant bodies and mundane conversations in every room irritated her. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and she told her mother so. Finally, Philip’s family went back to their hotel, and her friends went back to their own homes, their own lives.
She curled up on the sofa and rested her head in her mother’s lap. “I’ve lost everything, Mom. Everything.”
Her mother stroked her hair. “I know it feels that way, Sadie, but it will get better. I promise. It’ll hurt less, with time.”
“Time. That’s all I’ve got left.”
“Time is a gift, honey. Use it wisely. Do something for Sam, something to remember him.”
But Sadie wasn’t listening. Another voice spoke to her, and it was far more compelling.
“Mommy, where are you? I can’t find you.”
As soon as her parents went to bed, she armed herself with another bottle of Philip’s Cabernet and barricaded herself in the bedroom. Within an hour, she had polished off the entire bottle and had staggered downstairs to dispose of the evidence.
Back in her room, she passed out in the chair.
The next morning, she walked unsteadily into the kitchen. Disheveled, reeking of stale wine and suffering from the most god-awful hangover she’d ever had, she almost didn’t see her parents seated at the kitchen table. They were waiting for her, and the look of disapproval on her mother’s face told her that something was up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her mother frowned. “You look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
An empty wine bottle was dangled in front of her nose.
“I found this,” her father said. “In the garbage can out back.”
“What on earth are you doing, Sadie?” her mother asked.
Sadie massaged her pounding head, then moved to the window and crossed her arms. “I’m forgetting.”
What else could she say? They didn’t understand.
“You need help,” her mother said firmly. “Counseling, AA, whatever you need, do it. We’ll stay with you for a while. Until you’re better.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Mom.”
“No, but you do need help.” Her mother moved toward her, hands outstretched, pleading. “Let us help you. You’ve been down this path before, Sadie. It doesn’t lead anywhere good. You know that.”
“Don’t tell me what I know! I know my son is dead! I know it’s my fault. I know that drinking makes me numb. And I like that.”
“You’re saying that because you’re grieving,” her mother cried. “We’re all grieving. You lost your son. We lost our grandson. We don’t want to lose you too.”
“Just go home, Mom. I’ll be—”
“We’re not leaving,” her father interrupted. “Not until you agree to see a psychologist and go to AA.”
Sadie clenched her teeth. “You’re giving me an ultimatum, Dad? I’m not a child. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. Right or wrong, I have to do this my way. If that means I drink to forget, then I drink. Right now I just want to be left alone.”
She flinched at the hurt she saw in her mother’s eyes.
“Give me some space, Mom. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“You promise?” Her mother was weeping.
“Go back to the States. There’s nothing more you can do.”
Her parents left the next morning, depressed and defeated.
Sadie spent the day wading through paperwork. Then she called the realtor that Philip had found.
“Any news on the house?”
“We’ve got a buyer,” the man said. “The deal’s been finalized and the money’ll be in the bank by tomorrow. How much time do you need?”
“I’ll be out of here in a few days.”
Jay called later that day.
“That bastard has us by the balls,” he vented. “The balloon, the note, the bombs—they’re all dead ends. But we’re still hoping something will come up.”
Sensing his frustration, Sadie thanked him and hung up. She’d watched enough Missing and Without a Trace to know that with each passing day there was less possibility that The Fog would ever be caught.
The following day, she stood in front of Sam’s door. Holding her breath, she opened it and a rush of emotion bombarded her. This was the last place she had seen Sam alive, where she had watched a murderer take him away. She should have fought harder. Done something more. Remorse ate at her, broiling in her stomach and threatening to spew forth.
She shifted in a slow circle, taking in Sam’s fuzzy slippers, the autographed baseball bat, his clothes… the empty bed. She sat down on it. Then she lay back and stared up at the same ceiling her son had looked at for six years. With her finger, she drew an invisible infinity symbol in the air. Again and again.
“I miss you, Sam.”
She turned on her side, gripped his favorite blanket and cried until she was drained of everything, until an idea that had been brewing since the day Sam had died became the only thing she could focus on. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—live without Sam, and there was only one way to be with him.
With a heavy heart, she began the daunting task of packing away his room. Every object seemed to be haunted by another memory, each one cutting her heart even deeper than the last. It took hours of battling emotions, memories and tears before she was done.
Then she wandered through the house. The house they had brought Sam home to when things had been happy. Memories of him were everywhere. Like ghostly dust bunnies, they haunted every nook and cranny. She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn’t. His first steps, his first tumble down the stairs, his first birthday party.
His last.
“Everything’s different now,” she whispered.
Sam was gone. Philip was gone. Her life as she knew it was gone. Everything had dissolved around her.
Anger bubbled rebelliously to the surface, like a tablet of antacid in water. Plop, plop. Fizz, fizz…
But there was no relief in sight. Except in one thing.
Don’t do it, Sadie!
But she couldn’t resist fate.
16
She grabbed another bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet from Philip’s secret stash. That left three in the drawer. She considered taking them too, but then changed her mind.