“Sorry,” I said.
Arch reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you’re trying to help. Gosh, Mom, don’t.”
It wasn’t until then that I realized tears were streaming down my cheeks. Later, after we’d done the dishes, Marla had departed, and Gus and Arch had unrolled sleeping bags, I thought of Drew.
Arch was right: these memories were not all great.
Wednesday morning arrived very early, or rather the sunlight associated with the coming solstice did. Once again, Tom was up first, moving silently around the bedroom so as not to disturb me.
“How’s your leg, Miss G.?” he whispered.
“Throbbing. But not as bad as the past few days.”
“I made your iced coffee last night,” he said. “Didn’t want to wake up Arch and Gus with the espresso maker. I thought they were going to sleep i
