Rapid Falls(71)

The tears that caught in my throat as I answered were honest, even if the words were not. “I’m . . . not okay. Not at all. She jumped right in front of me, Rick.”

“Oh my God.” His sigh pushed through the phone. “This is awful. I thought . . . I thought she was getting better. She seemed okay in rehab. Like she wanted to move forward.”

“I should have known, Rick. I should have seen the signs. Last time she tried to kill herself . . .” I paused. It was important that I shift his thinking about Anna’s recent behavior. “The psychiatrist at the hospital told me that sometimes people seem to get better right before they finally succeed, like they want to leave everyone around them with the best possible memories of them. As we drove up to the falls, she kept talking about how much she loved us both. I should have figured out she was trying to . . . be forgiven. It’s all my fault.”

Even over the phone, I could hear the ferocity in my husband’s words. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, Cara. You did everything you could for her. Everything.”

I let his words hang in the air to allow them their full meaning.

“Thanks, Rick. I’m just so tired. Maybe I’m still in shock.”

“We are on our way, Cara. I just need to pack a few things. We’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Within hours, he had arrived with my mother and Maggie in tow. Immediately he began planning the service, working with the local minister to put it together as quickly and quietly as possible. He really is an incredible husband. I don’t deserve him.

As we drive to the church, I let Rick handle the endless toddler patter from Maggie about the birds flying by and the color of the river. I can’t let myself be distracted. Rick, my mother, and I have told everyone how despondent and destructive Anna had been in the last few months. We have spent hours talking to the friends and neighbors who have streamed into my dad’s house over the past three days. This incident has inspired a lot more visitors than the last Piper family tragedy.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” I heard my mom admit to Sheila Black the day before, as I walked into the living room with fresh coffee for both of them. Her eyes were full of faraway sadness. “She was never the same . . . after the accident.” I walked over to my mom and took her hand as Sheila nodded, her eyes full of sympathy and satisfaction, cataloguing every word for retelling.

I smiled sadly at Sheila. “Anna struggled for years. I don’t think she ever really accepted what happened that night.” People needed to know how troubled Anna was. I was sure Sheila Black would help spread the word.

Rick joined us, taking the warm cup of coffee I offered to him. “This wasn’t her first attempt, you know. I guess it was just a matter of time.”

I looked at him gratefully. He could not be a better partner.

Sheila nodded, right on cue. “You have all been through so much.”

My mom reached over to hold my hand. “Cara carried the heaviest load. She tried so hard with her sister. I think she’s the reason that Anna lasted as long as she did.”

Rick laid his hand on my leg as he murmured agreement. I closed my eyes, as if overcome with grief. Really I could barely contain the joy I felt at finally being recognized for who I really was: the perfect daughter, wife, and mother. The one who no one would ever leave behind.

My dad is different. The afternoon that Anna died, I returned to his house with two police officers. I asked the older officer to be the one to deliver the news to him. I told them I was too shaken up. My dad nodded unemotionally as the officer spoke. It was clear he was drunk, and I wondered if he was fully comprehending what they were telling him. After they left, he didn’t say a word to me, just turned his back and walked up to his bedroom. Once Rick and the others arrived, we tried to get him to join us for meals, but he refused. My mom began bringing plates up to his room, which he left untouched.

Rick offered my dad a ride to the funeral, but he refused that too, saying he’d drive himself.

Rick turns to me and speaks softly so Maggie can’t hear. “I hope your dad is okay to drive. Anna’s death seems to be hitting him so hard.”

“Yes,” I agree. “He’s taking it very badly.” I’m struck by the number of cars in the church parking lot. We are forced to drive past and angle into a spot on the road about three hundred feet from the church. After all these years, there can be only a handful of people in attendance who actually knew Anna. The rest are here for the show.

“Can you walk?” I say to Maggie.

“Walk, balk, talk, gawk,” Maggie replies.

Rick smiles in spite of himself. “Let’s take that as a yes.”

I smile back, but it disappears quickly as I walk to the back seat to release Maggie from her seat belt. I clasp Maggie’s hand in one of mine and reach for my husband’s with the other. I need to be physically connected to them right now. Maggie pulls hard at my arm like a puppy fighting against its leash as we make our way to the church.

“You ready?” Rick says quietly as we approach the steps.

“No,” I say.

“Me neither.”

There are no pallbearers holding the door this time. My mom, Rick, and I agreed that we didn’t want a complicated service. We need to bury her and move on. As soon as we get inside, a big man walks toward me with arms open. It’s Wade, a grayer and doughier version than the one I remember, and he sweeps me into his arms. His kindness nearly undoes me, but I fight my tears as he releases me. Wade shakes hands with Rick just before Maggie sprints away, forcing Rick to weave through the crowd to follow.