She broke off, gasping at the sudden, vicious cramp.
“No! No, please!”
The second doubled her over in the chair, dropped her onto her knees as the cup fell out of her hand, spilling dandelion tea on the old braided rug.
She felt it leave her, that life, felt it flood out of her in blood and pain.
God punished the wicked, she thought, and lay on the rug, wishing for her own death.
— Present Day —
Bodine managed to get home just before dark—and before another hit of February snow. As she stripped off her winter gear, she caught the scents of cooking from the kitchen.
“God, that smells good! We’re in for another couple feet they’re saying, Clementine. You might want to—” Spotting the sturdy, stoic cook wiping hastily at tears, Bodine broke off, rushed forward. “What’s the matter? What happened? Is somebody hurt? Mom—”
Sniffling, trying to shoo Bodine aside, Clementine shook her head. “She and your dad are out on a date. It’s nothing. I got something in my eye.”
“Don’t hand me that bull. You could have a splinter the size of my thumb in your eye and you’d pluck it out without shedding a tear. You sit down.”
“Can’t you see I’ve got this chicken to finish?”
With a flick, Bodine turned off the burner. “It’ll keep. I said you sit down, and I mean it. Right now.”
“I’d like to know when you started giving orders around here.”
“I’m giving this one. Or do you want me to call Mom?”
“Don’t you dare do any such thing!” Face set, cheeks still damp, Clementine sat. “There. Satisfied?”
Though she wanted to snap back, Bodine held her tongue. She thought to make tea, decided it would take too long and she might lose the advantage. She pulled out a bottle of whisky instead, poured two fingers.
After slapping it down in front of Clementine, Bodine sat. “Now, you tell me what’s wrong. How many times have I told you when I got hurt or upset or just mad enough to cry?”
“It’s nothing to do with you.”
“You’re everything to do with me.”
Defeated by that, Clementine lifted the glass, downed half the whisky. “I don’t know what came over me. I just heard … A friend of mine in my quilting club—you know Sarah Howard.”
“Sure. I went to school with her younger son, Harry. I— Oh, Clem, did something happen to Mrs. Howard?”
“No, no, she’s fine. I’m just—” Holding up a hand, Clementine composed herself. “Sarah’s friends with Denise McNee—that’s that poor child Karyn Allison’s ma. She took her name back after the divorce some years back. Sarah’s cousin Marjean married Denise’s brother, and Sarah and Denise got friendly over the years.”
“All right.”
“We were meeting up tonight, the quilting club, at my house. Eight to ten. Sarah just called, said how she couldn’t come—she was bringing her coffee cake.”
The rambling road wasn’t hard to follow. “What happened to Denise McNee, Clem?”
“She took a bunch of pills, Bodine. Just swallowed a bunch of pills the doctor gave her to help her get through this terrible time. I don’t know what kind of damn pills.”
“Oh, Clem.”
“It was Sarah who found her, went over to take her a casserole, give her some company for a while. It was Sarah who found her and called an ambulance.”
“She killed herself.”
“Tried to. Might have done it yet. She’s in the hospital, and Sarah said they just don’t know yet. She was sobbing over the phone, Sarah was. Just beside herself. And I just started thinking how that poor woman wanted to die, how she lost her child in such an awful way, and it’s the same as losing her heart.”
“I’m so sorry, Clem. I’m just so sorry.”
“She ain’t never going to be the same, that mother.” Chin quivering, Clementine used the hem of her apron to wipe at her red-rimmed eyes. “If she goes on living, she’ll never be the same as she was. People look at me and think I’ve never had children, but that’s not the truth.”
“No, it’s not.” Tone gentle, grip firm, Bodine took Clementine’s hand. “You’ve got me and Chase and Rory. I guess Callen, too, really.”
“It just came over me so hard.” Steadier, Clementine dashed away tears with her free hand. “A good friend of mine crying over the phone for a friend of hers. That poor girl dead for reasons we just don’t know. And Cora, bearing up all these years, not knowing if a child of hers is dead or alive. It just came over me so hard, and had me thinking how would I bear up, how would I live through if something happened to one of mine?”
She rocked herself a little, sipped at the whisky. “There’s just no love like the love of a mother for a child, no matter how that child comes into their life, and no loss or grief to match it.”
“We’re going to take care of ourselves, and look out for each other, I promise you. Don’t I let Callen tag along with me half the time going to work, or Rory? So I can keep an eye out for them?”
Clementine smiled. “You’re a good girl most of the time, Bodine.”
“I am. Now, I want you to do what I know you’re fretting about, and what you’d tell me to do in your place. You go, be with your friend at the hospital. She needs you.”
“I haven’t finished dinner.”
“I can figure it out. You go now. We’ve got snow coming, so you drive careful, and I want you to text me when you get home tonight. So I won’t worry,” Bodine said quickly.
“I’ve been driving in Montana snow since before you were born. I would feel better being there for Sarah.”
“Then you go.”
“I will.” She rose. “Now, you put that chicken on a medium heat, let it simmer for another twenty minutes. Don’t go running off and leaving it to burn.”
“No, ma’am.”
“I got carrots and potatoes roasting in the oven.”
Bodine listened to the detailed—and repeated—instructions as Clementine bundled up.
On her own, she turned the burner on again, checked the oven, lifted the cloth on the bread dough Clementine said needed another fifteen minutes to rise.
She poured her glass of wine, and thought about a mother’s despair, about a mother bearing up. One hadn’t been able to handle the loss. The other pushed through it.
But both needed shoulders to lean on, friends around them. Family to fill the voids, friends who were the same as family.
She looked out the window, saw the lights on in the shack.
And going with impulse, texted Callen.
You had dinner yet?
It took a minute for his answer. Nope.
Come on over and eat with us. I’ll even buy you a beer.
This time the answer came in seconds. Pop the top and grab me a plate.
Done.
She went back, poked at the chicken, and thought all Clementine’s chicks would eat together in the roost tonight.
*