“Claire and I were out for a walk and saw your light on.”
Maura looked down the steps and saw her. Claire had never hated the limitations of her injuries as much as she did right at that moment, when she longed to climb those stairs and embrace her friend. Without her crutches or at least a cane, she didn’t dare attempt it. To her relief, Maura made the move toward her, walking down the steps in her bare feet. Claire gripped the armrests of the chair and forced herself to stand, balancing on her good leg and the tip of her cast. She hugged Maura tightly with both arms, even the casted one, ignoring the pain. Sometimes the only comfort a person could give was a quiet embrace. She had been the recipient of that same comfort many times and just stood for a moment now, wishing she could absorb Maura’s pain into herself.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to stop by before now.”
“Don’t be. You’ve had your own stuff.”
“That’s no excuse. Not really.”
After a moment, Maura moved away and Claire sank back to the wheelchair. She watched as the other woman reached down to pet Chester. The dog looked a little baffled at being the recipient of only a perfunctory pat instead of the ebullient love Maura usually gave him.
“Mom told me about this benefit you’re cooking up.”
Claire searched her features in the glow from the porch light, but she couldn’t read anything in her expression. “It’s not much, but at least it’s something.”
“You can’t fix this, Claire.”
Maura’s low words echoed just what she had already heard from Riley. She shifted her gaze to him and found him watching her steadily, though without a trace of an I-told-you-so in his eyes.
Claire sighed. “I know, honey. Nothing can fix it. But we all want to remember her, too. This is a small thing, but if it helps bring a little more peace and maybe makes the town a little better, don’t you think it’s worth it?”
“I won’t come. Don’t ask me to.”
“Do you want us to forget the whole thing? We can put everything on hold, Maur. It’s early days in the planning process.”
Maura was silent for a long moment, her fingers working a fraying edge of her T-shirt. Riley was watching his sister, his jaw tight. Finally she shook her head. “No, it’s a loving gesture. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But right now, I just... I can’t.”
Claire reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. The benefit and day of service wouldn’t make things right, but maybe they could make things better.
“Looks like your front door’s coming off the hinges.”
Riley had a too-casual tone she found grating. Only when she looked hard at his features in the moonlight did she see the vast pain in his eyes.
Maura gazed at the door as if she hadn’t noticed. “I’ve had a few visitors lately. I guess it’s been overworked.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow after my shift to fix it.”
Maura opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again and simply nodded.
He embraced his sister, and Maura, usually so competent and together, seemed as fragile as antique handblown beads. “Try to get some sleep,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Thanks, Ri. Claire, thank you for stopping by.”
He waited until Maura returned to the house before he turned and pushed Claire back down the sidewalk toward the road. Both of them were silent as they traveled the remaining distance to her house. Even Chester seemed subdued, although when they turned onto Blackberry Lane he picked up a little more energy, apparently eager to be home.
As they passed Mrs. Redmond’s house on the corner, Claire spied the elderly woman, dressed in her favorite pink housedress, wrestling her big garbage can out to the street.
The garbage can probably weighed more than Mrs. Redmond’s eighty pounds. She shifted, guilty suddenly at her thoughtlessness. She hated to ask him for something again, but she couldn’t ignore a neighbor in need.
“Riley, wait. Can you go help Mrs. Redmond with her garbage can? I usually do it, but I haven’t given it much thought lately. I forgot tomorrow was garbage pickup day.”
He suddenly tensed, she could see it in the set of his jaw. “Of course,” he said after a slight pause. He set the brake of her stupid wheelchair and then approached the elderly woman. “Let me help you with that, Mrs. Redmond.”
“Who’s there?” She squinted into the darkness.
“It’s Claire, Mrs. Redmond,” she called quickly to allay the woman’s suspicions. “Claire Bradford, along with the police chief. Why don’t you let him roll your can out to the street for you?”
“The police chief? That McKnight boy?” Scorn dripped from her voice. “I don’t think so. I’ll get it myself.”