Thesemoments never failed to amaze me. The ease in believing. The willingness. Moeturned to look in the direction of his daughter, and while I knew he couldn'tsee her, I also knew he imagined that he could.
“Oh,baby girl,” he whispered tearfully. “You are not the reason my life was ruined.That's all on me. I did that. You hear me? You had absolutely nothin' to dowith that.”
Heglanced at me and asked, “She can hear me, right?”
Swallowingat my watery laugh, I bobbed my head. “She can. She's listening and she's,” Iexhaled against a sob, “she's so happy. She's so happy you're finally here.”
Heturned back to where Jamie stood. “You could've come to me, baby girl. I'vealways been out there.”
Jamieshook her head and I interpreted, “She didn't know where to go or how to getthere. So, she's just ... been here.”
Moe'seyes slid reluctantly from the blank spot in front of him to look at me.Realization spread across his face, as his lips parted and his eyes grew wide.
“Andyou've been with her.”
Inodded, dropping my gaze to the porch floor. “Yeah ...”
“You'vebeen her friend.”
Thebest.
“Yeah.”
Heexhaled, cocking his head and loosening his shoulders. “She wasn't alone,because of you.”
Ididn't know what to do, or what to say. I could only shrug and swallow again,in an act of desperation to keep from losing it, as I knew this was it. Shewould never be there again, waiting for my return, or listening to my troubles,or helping me decide on an outfit. She would be gone soon, no longer hangingon, and I would be truly alone.
Ibegan to cry.
“She'smy best friend,” I told him, needing him to know that I wasn't only there forher but her for me as well. “She's been my best friend since I was six yearsold.” I looked at her, my oldest and closest friend, wondering how I had anyheart left to break, and added, “She was my only friend.”
Moeblew out a breath. “She'll leave now, won't she?”
Myeyes closed, searing her smile against my brain. “Yes.”
Thewind blew harsh against my skin, and then I felt the warmth of his arms,enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort and mutual sadness. I settled against hischest, and sighed to the peaceful thrumming of his heart, and together, we wepton the porch of the house where his daughter had died and become my friend.
“Thankyou, Andy,” he whispered into my hair. “Thank you. You've made me happier thanyou can ever know. I dunno what's in the cards for you and my boy, but you'reso special, baby, and you deserve to be happy, too.”
Icould only nod, as I pulled away from his comforting embrace. And when Ifinally opened my eyes, Jamie was gone.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
ANDREA
Momhad insisted I invite Moe in for dinner, and to my surprise, he'd accepted.
“Wenever met the owners when we bought the house,” Dad explained, passing thepotatoes.
Myfriend nodded, helping himself to a heaping spoonful. “My wife walked away fromthe place after the accident.”
“Whatabout you?” Mer asked, popping a piece of pot roast into her mouth. “What didyou do?”
“Ibecame addicted to drugs and bounced from couch to couch, until I found my homeon the streets,” Moe replied, so matter-of-factly my mother's chewing slowedand Willa dropped her fork. Moe chuckled at their shock. “My daughter's deathmade my wife angry and hateful, and it made me stupid.”
“Understandable,though,” Dad commented, nodding somberly. “On both accounts. Everybody copeswith grief differently.”
Willashook her head and pursed her lips. “I don't think there's any excuse. I mean,I'm sorry, but a coping mechanism or not, drugs are never okay.”
