“She was good with the children?”
“Oh, yes, she was wonderful. Very involved. She loved to play with them. Really play, not just make the motions. I’m not good at that kind of thing.” She sighs. “Which is probably why God didn’t want me to be a mother. I mean, I play with them, but it doesn’t come as naturally to me. I’m talking about myself again. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Ruth.”
“Rachel was a wonderful mother. I pray she will be again, for Eden’s sake. Eden needs her, now more than ever. I’m just not capable of filling Rachel’s shoes. I mean, I’m doing everything I can for all of them. I’m basically running the household, doing the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do it.”
“The Davenports are very lucky to have you.”
“Oh, no, I’m not looking for praise. Anyone would do what I’m doing. Especially after what happened. Especially after what I . . .” She stops talking, and I watch her closely as she pulls a tissue from her purse and dabs at her eyes and nose. I wait for her to speak again. When she does, her voice is soft.
“Rachel wasn’t trying to kill herself. It’s important that you understand that.”
“Okay.”
“My sister would never do that.”
Except that she knowingly took a handful of prescription drugs. In my experience, that means she was definitely trying to end her life.
“And it’s my fault. I should never have left the pills with Sam. I shouldn’t have left at all, except that I had to go home. I needed my medication. You see, I suffer from fibromyalgia. But I left very strict instructions that Sam was not to give the bottle to her.”
“Because you were worried that she would take too many?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe. But not on purpose. I just knew she wasn’t thinking clearly. Earlier that day, Rachel thought she . . .”
“Go on, Ruth.”
“My sister isn’t crazy, Dr. Meyers.”
“No one is saying Rachel is crazy.”
Ruth stares at me for a long moment. “She told me she saw Jonah, earlier that day. She said he was sitting on her bed. Obviously, she was hallucinating, but she swears it was real.”
I recall Dr. Lahey mentioning as much. I make a note on my clipboard, and Ruth gives me a nervous look.
“What are you writing? Am I allowed to ask?”
“Something I want to discuss with your sister. About seeing Jonah.”
Ruth is suddenly distressed. “She’ll be angry with me. That I told you.”
“She might be, yes,” I say. “But her well-being is more important than her anger toward you, wouldn’t you agree?”
She looks at her hands. “Of course. I just . . . I’m the only one she trusts right now.”
“She doesn’t trust Sam?”
She gives a bark of laughter, not a pleasant sound. “She can’t stand to be near him. Barely speaks to him, doesn’t look at him, won’t let him touch her. He sleeps on the couch downstairs, for goodness’ sake.”
Sam didn’t mention this to me. I make another note, but this time Ruth doesn’t question me about it, only nods with apparent satisfaction.
“I think she blames him for Jonah’s death,” she says then quickly adds, “not that it was his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” When she says this last, her eyes shimmer, and she dabs at them, soaking up the tears before they fall.
“Bad things happen. They just do.” She says it like a mantra, as though she is trying to convince herself.
“Yes, Ruth, they do.”
She doesn’t look at me, just gazes at the tissue she clutches. “They just do.”
TWENTY-NINE
EDEN DAVENPORT
“I wish Shadow was here.”
“Who’s Shadow?” I ask.
“My dog. He makes me feel safe.”
“You don’t feel safe here, Eden?”
She avoids the question. “Do you have a dog?”
I shake my head and smile. “I have a cat.”
She frowns. “You don’t like dogs?”
“No, I love dogs,” I tell her. “But I’m gone so much it wouldn’t be fair to have a dog. Cats are easier. They don’t require much attention. They pretty much do what they want.”
“What’s your cat’s name?”
“Cleopatra.”
“Queen of the Nile.”
“That’s right. She’s definitely the queen of the house.”
Eden is sitting on the couch with her knees tucked into her chest, a protective position.
“If you would like to bring Shadow with you next time, that’s okay with me.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
“Is he potty trained?”
“Oh, yeah, for sure. He only pees and poops outside on the grass.”
“That’s good. Then he’s welcome.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “So, what color is your room at home?”
She scrunches up her nose in thought. “Well, two of the walls are yellow, and one of the walls has pink wallpaper with yellow and light-purple flowers on it, and the fourth wall isn’t really a wall, it’s my closet, and the doors are white.”
“That sounds like a lovely room.”
“It used to be, like, all white, but then when I turned nine, my mom said I could decorate it however I wanted. I got to pick the paint colors and the wallpaper. And my mom painted it and put up the wallpaper all by herself.”
“All by herself?”
“Well, I helped a little, but mostly she did it herself. She did Jonah’s room, too. He was only three, so he couldn’t pick out his own colors or anything, but Mom got blue paint and used some of the yellow paint from my room and put up this really cool border that has LEGO Star Wars pictures on it.”
“Wow. She sounds like a really cool mom, huh?”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “She was.”
“She was?” I repeat. Eden purses her lips but says nothing. “She’s not cool anymore?”
The girl remains silent. Such a pretty thing, with freckles on her cheeks and nose and bright-blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair just like her mother’s.
“Eden?”
She lets out a breath. “If you can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all.”
“You know, that’s true. But in here, it’s a little different. In here, we get to say whatever we want to say, even if it doesn’t sound nice. And the things you say won’t hurt anyone, because you’re only saying them to me, and maybe what you tell me can help me help your family to get better. Does that make sense?”
She nods. “I want my family to get better. I want my mom to get better. I want her to be like she was before. But I know she never will be.”
“Why is that?”
“Because!” She kicks her feet out angrily. I’m glad for it. Up until this moment, Eden has been too calm and composed. She needs to unlock her emotions if she is to work through her grief. “Nothing will ever be the same without Jonah! Duh!”
“You’re right. It won’t be the same. But do you think it’s possible that it could be good again? Different, but good?”