Come to Me Quietly(125)

And Aly could feel her mom’s heartbreak, could feel it quivering in her touch. But in that moment, Aly was numb with disbelief. It seemed impossible.

“Is Jared okay?” she finally managed to whisper.

Her mother shrank, her lip blanching as she bit it hard. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.” The words bled from her mouth, slow and unsure, filled with sympathy, but sharp with grief. “He’s in bad shape, Aly. Neil just called… He’s at the hospital. Your dad and I need to go.”



“I’m coming with you.”



Her dad stepped in. “I want you to stay here with Christopher. He was supposed to spend the night at a friend’s. I just called him and told him what happened. He’s on his way home.”



“No, Dad, I want to come.”



“I think it’s best if you stay here. I’ll call you once we get there to let you know what’s happening.”



“Dad, please.”



He hugged her, smoothing his hand over the back of her head, his tone pleading. “Just stay here, okay, sweetheart? For me? We need to be there to help Neil with Courtney… and Jared… We just don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”



He left her standing there, stunned, unable to absorb the blow. It tumbled through her like a storm.

She loved Helene. So much. Family… that’s what she’d been. It didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood. Helene had been there in every memory that counted.

But it was the thought of Jared being taken from her life that pushed Aly’s back up against the wall, her chest heaving when the grief finally struck.

“No,” she whispered. “Please, no.”



“Today we gather to celebrate the life of Helene Rose Holt.”



A deep, mournful sob broke in the row directly in front of Aly as the minister began to speak. Jared’s father, Neil, sat hunched over as he wept, and Neil’s father placed a hand on his slumped back. The older man’s words were indistinct as he whispered something in his son’s ear. Neil Holt shook harder and wept more.

Aly sucked in a breath, unable to hold back the tears falling from her eyes. Her throat felt so tight and her chest so empty. She’d been crying for days, and she didn’t know if she was ever going to stop.

Beside her, her mother squeezed her hand so tightly it hurt, as if the pain emanating from Neil Holt was her own burden, too.

Aly squeezed her back. None of this felt real to her. How could it be? It seemed impossible that someone could so suddenly be ripped away without warning. It seemed savage and cruel.

A gust of cold air stirred the surface of the ground and rustled through the barren trees. Branches creaked as they bowed, whining, as if they felt the void, too.

In front of her to the right, Courtney blinked down on Aly with her bright blue eyes. Her grandmother held her on her lap, Courtney’s arms wrapped around the old woman’s neck as she peered back at the gathered crowd, the nine-year-old little girl looking more stunned and confused than anything else.

On the other side of Aly, Christopher sat with his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in his hands. Most of the week he’d remained stoic, outwardly unaffected by the horror that had befallen their families. But Aly heard him crying at night, as if he couldn’t hold his own misery in anymore. He just wasn’t capable of showing anyone the way he really felt. Seeing him like that had scared her.