Beyond the Point(114)
“The first time I met Tim . . .”
“God has a plan for all of this . . .”
“You’re so strong . . .”
Hannah nodded, smiled when she could, and continually said the same words over and over again. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”
Eventually, Dani made her way to a round table toward the middle of the reception hall. All of the tables were covered with white tablecloths and had a small flower arrangement at the center. Lilies and eucalyptus. One of the many choices Dani had made out of Captain Huerta’s binders, when Hannah had lost the ability to make any more decisions. In the foyer, Dani could see Avery collecting coats from guests filing through the entrance. Dressed in a black coat and gray dress, Amanda Coleman had just arrived. It surprised Dani to see her; Locke had told her in an e-mail that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to the funeral, because his unit was leaving for a two-week training in the field that he couldn’t miss.
Spotting Dani across the room, Amanda waved. After handing her coat to Avery, she found her way to Dani’s side. Her dark brunette hair fell in a single braid down her shoulder, and she hugged Dani tight.
“I only met him that one time, at your house,” she said. “But still. I . . . I just can’t believe it. You’re such a good friend. To come here, all the way from England.”
“What else was I going to do?” Dani said.
Amanda pursed her lips together and nodded in understanding.
For a moment, the two women stood in awkward silence. Then they sat down at the table beside them.
“Locke said they had a great time over there, last spring,” she said. “That you have a great flat. Notting Hill, right?”
Dani nodded, feeling no desire for small talk.
Amanda looked around the room, then sighed, her eyes falling on Hannah. “How is she doing?”
Dani shook her head, angry that Amanda would ask such an obvious question. How did Amanda think she was doing? “She’s devastated.”
Amanda seemed to let Dani’s harsh response sink in before gathering the courage to try again.
“I don’t keep up with any of my friends from college anymore,” she said. “When I see the way y’all are with each other, it makes me wonder if I had friendships or just . . . proximity.”
Dani looked at her, surprised by the insight in her comment.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. She chuckled. “Push-ups aren’t exactly my forte. But seeing you guys together makes me wonder if I could have done something like West Point. It kind of makes me wish I’d tried.” She took a sip of water. “Locke tells so many stories about you. ‘Did I tell you about that time Dani and I did this? Or the time that Dani did that?’ If I’m honest, sometimes I’m jealous of all those memories you guys have together. I feel like I’ll never catch up.”
Dani felt a sudden surge of compassion. She’d never considered how it must feel to Amanda to constantly be on the outside. “You will. It’ll take time, but you will.”
“I guess I should get in line,” Amanda said, looking over her shoulder at the long queue of people, waiting to speak to Hannah. She looked back at Dani and squeezed her hand again. “Hannah is really lucky to have a friend like you. So is Locke. And so am I.”
AFTER AMANDA LEFT, Dani pulled the BlackBerry out of her pocket and clicked on the small envelope icon. It felt rude, but with the spare moment she had alone, she scanned through the subject lines of 112 unread e-mails. Most of them were junk, but several dozen were work-related. All had gone unread. Unanswered. Near the top of her most recent e-mails, a message from Laura Klein had been marked urgent by its sender. It had a little exclamation point at the end of the subject line. She opened it.
From: Laura Klein <[email protected]>
Date: December 5, 2006 06:39 AM GMT
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]>
CC: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]
Subject: Re: URGENT: Bereavement Leave (!)
Ms. McNalley,
I’ve been in touch with Jim Webb, Sandra in HR, as well as our team of E & G lawyers, all cc’d here.
At this time you have overspent your allotted leave by six days. You no longer have any sick days, personal days, or bereavement leave available. However, as stated in my previous e-mail dated November 21, and confirmed by an e-mail sent to you from Sandra dated November 26, bereavement leave is a benefit to be reserved for immediate family only, with the presentation of a death certificate, for which, per your e-mail November 20, this current trip does not qualify. Your salary has been reduced for the missed workdays. Someone from Accounting will be in touch with the details.
Please respond immediately with your explanation of this extended absence, and your intended date of return. Please keep all parties above included on the correspondence.
Respectfully,
Laura Klein
Dani felt sick to her stomach. Of all people, Jim Webb would understand why she’d missed so much work. It would take one e-mail to explain to him why she’d left London in such a hurry and why she hadn’t been in a rush to get back. Laura’s e-mail was a thinly veiled threat and cc’ing Jim was only going to backfire on Laura—not Dani. Plus, in the days since she’d arrived at Fort Bragg, Dani had realized that all that pressure she’d put on herself with work was an illusion. Nothing was that urgent. Most things in life could get postponed, delayed, pushed back.