“I'll manage.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
Liz shook her head. She'd just have to take care of her mother if she stayed, and she needed all her energy now for her children. “I'll call if I need you. I promise.” The two women held hands across the kitchen table, and then went up to bed. Victoria called her late that night to see how she was, and she said she was fine, but neither of them believed it, and Liz lay in bed, wide awake, and crying most of the night, until six o'clock the next morning.
Her mother left on schedule, and then she and the children were alone, roaming aimlessly around the house. Carole took everyone bowling that afternoon, and even Peter went, for once without his girlfriend. Liz stayed home to go through some of Jack's papers, and everything was meticulously organized. She found his will easily, the insurance policy, everything was in order in his desk. There was no chaos to comb through, no bad surprises, nothing to worry her, except for the fact that he was gone and she was alone for the rest of her life. And as she thought of it, she felt the now familiar wave of panic wash over her, and she missed him more than she thought humanly possible. She cried all afternoon, and by the time the kids came home, she looked exhausted.
Carole cooked dinner for them that night, hamburgers and french fries. They had thrown the turkey out, untouched, on Christmas night. No one wanted to look at it, let alone eat it. And by nine o'clock, the children were in their rooms, the girls watched a video, and later that night, Jamie woke up and climbed into bed with her, and it was comforting to have him there, warm and cozy beside her. Life stretched ahead of her like an endless empty strip of road now, with nothing but responsibilities and burdens, and things she would have to do alone.
The next week crawled by, the kids were still home from school for the Christmas holiday. On Sunday they went to church. He had been gone for ten days by then. Ten days. Days, only hours and moments. It still felt like a nightmare. And on Monday morning, she got up and cooked them breakfast. Peter drove himself to school, and she took the girls to their school nearby, and then drove Jamie to his special school, but he hesitated for a long time before he got out of the car. And at last, he turned and looked up at his mother, as he clutched his lunch box. It was a new one that Rachel had given him for Christmas with Star Wars figures on it.
“Do I have to tell them at school that Daddy died?” he asked, looking somber.
“The teachers know. I called to tell them, and I think everybody read it in the newspaper, sweetheart. Just say you don't want to talk about it, if you don't want to.”
“Do they know a bad man shot him?”
“I think so.” She had told the woman who ran the school that if he got upset and wanted to come home, they should call Carole, or Liz herself at the office. But like the other children, he seemed to be doing better than she'd expected. “If you need to call me at the office to talk to me, just tell your teacher, she'll let you.”
“Can I come home if I want to?” He looked worried.
“Sure. But you might get pretty lonely. It might be more fun at school, with your friends. See how you feel after a while.” He nodded then, and opened the car door, hesitated for an instant and then turned to look back at her.
“What if someone shoots you at the office, Mom?” His eyes were full of tears as he asked her, and she shook her head with tears in her own eyes.
“That won't happen, I promise.” She reached out and touched him gently as she said it. But how could she promise him that? How could she promise him that any of them would ever be safe again? How could she know? If something so terrible could happen to Jack, terrible things could happen to any of them, and now they all knew it, even Jamie. There were no guarantees anymore for long life or safety. “I'm going to be fine. And so will you. I'll see you tonight, sweetheart.” He nodded and got out of the car, and walked forlornly into school as she watched him with a bowling ball on her heart. She couldn't help wondering if they would all feel like this forever, or for a very long time at least. It was hard to imagine feeling good again, or laughing, or making noise, or being loud, or feeling their hearts light. This seemed like a burden they would carry with them forever, or at least she knew she would. They would get over it, or at least adjust to it. But they would never have another father, and she would never have Jack. Their loss was irreparable, even if their hearts repaired eventually, there would always be a hole there. And as she drove to the office, she was so blinded by tears and so worried about all of them, that she drove through two red lights and got pulled over by a policeman.
“Did you see that light?” he barked at her as she rolled the window down, and she apologized through her tears. He looked at her long and hard as he took her driver's license from her, started to walk away and then turned back. He had recognized the name, and had read about it in the papers. He looked at her with concern, as he gave her back her license. “You shouldn't be driving. Where are you going?”
“To work.” He nodded and met her eyes.
“I'm sorry about your husband. Why don't you follow me? What's the address?” She gave it to him, and he got back in his car, turned on the flashing lights and pulled ahead of her, and escorted her all the way to their office, as she cried.
It was almost worse when people were nice. But he had been incredibly decent to her. He got out as she parked the car, and then shook her hand. “Try not to drive for a while, or as little as possible. You could get in an accident, hurt someone, or yourself. Give it a little time.” He patted her arm, and she was still crying when she thanked him, and walked into her office, carrying Jack's briefcase.
She hadn't been at the office since Jack died, and she was dreading the sight of it, but she knew Jean had been busy the week before. As usual, she had worked miracles. The bloodstained carpet had been replaced, the wall where Phillip Parker had shot himself had been repainted. There was no sign of the carnage that had taken place, and Jean smiled up at her as she walked in, and offered her a cup of coffee.
“Was that a black and white I saw outside a minute ago?” Jean looked concerned, as Liz blew her nose and smiled at her. She wanted to thank her for all she'd done to clean things up, but she just couldn't bring herself to say it. Jean understood without hearing the words, and handed her a steaming mug of black coffee.
“I ran two red lights on the way here. He was very nice, and gave me an escort right to the door. He told me to stay off the roads.”
“Not a bad idea,” Jean said, looking worried.
“What do you suggest I do? Hire a limo? I've got to come to work.”
“Take a cab,” Jean said sensibly.
“That's silly.”
“Not as silly as killing yourself or someone else. Now, that's silly.”
“I'm okay,” Liz reassured her, but convinced no one.
Jean had cancelled all the court appearances she could, save two which couldn't be postponed, but they weren't until later that week. Liz needed the time to go through all their files, and figure out what she was going to do about their clients. She dictated a letter to Jean that afternoon, explaining the circumstances of Jack's death to all their active clients, although it was hard to believe anyone didn't know. It had been all over the news during the Christmas weekend. But some might have been away, or missed it somehow. She explained that she'd be working as a sole practitioner now, and understood if people wanted to hire other attorneys to replace them. If not, she would be continuing with their work, and doing the best possible job for them. And to those who had sent her letters and flowers, she thanked them for their expressions of sympathy. The letter was direct and to the point, and both she and Jean suspected that most of their clients would stick with her. But that vote of confidence in itself was going to be an enormous burden to her. Despite what she had said to her mother the week before, she was beginning to wonder if she could do it. It was going to be hell doing it all alone. Overnight, it had more than doubled her workload. Not only did she have to handle his work as well as her own, but she had lost the moral support and the spark and the energy that he brought to her.