to them both.
Ophélie was having a mass said at Saint Dominic's, and other than that, they had nothing planned. There had been no remains after the plane exploded and burned, and Ophélie had purposely not put up headstones in a cemetery over empty graves. She didn't want to have a place to go or mourn. As far as she was concerned, she had explained to Pip the year before, they carried them in their hearts. All that had been left in the rubble were Chad's belt buckle, and Ted's wedding ring, both twisted almost beyond recognition, but she had saved both.
So all they had to do that day was go to mass. They were planning to spend the rest of the day quietly at the house, thinking about the loved ones they had lost. Which was exactly what Pip was worried about. And as the day drew closer, so was Ophélie. She was anticipating the anniversary of their death with dread.
18
AS IT TURNED OUT, THE DAY OF THE ANNIVERSARY dawned sunny and beautiful. The sun was streaming through Ophélie's bedroom windows when she and Pip woke up in her bed. Pip had been there almost every night since the beginning of September. It had afforded Ophélie great comfort, and she was still grateful to Matt for the suggestion. But they were both silent when they woke up that day.
Ophélie thought instantly, as did Pip, of the day of the funeral, which had been equally sunny, and agonizing for all concerned. All of Ted's colleagues and associates over the years, and their friends, had come, as well as all of Chad's friends, and his entire class. Mercifully, Ophélie scarcely remembered it, she had been in such a daze. All she remembered was the sea of flowers, and Pip holding her hand so tightly it hurt. And then from somewhere, like a choir from Heaven, the Ave Maria, which had never sounded as beautiful or as mesmerizing as it had that day. It was a memory she knew she would never get out of her head.
They went to mass together, and sat silently next to each other. At her request, Ted's and Chad's names were read off during the special intentions, and it brought tears to Ophélie's eyes, and once again she and Pip held hands. And after that, they went home, after stopping for a moment to thank the priest. They each lit a candle, Ophélie's for her husband, and Pip's for Chad, and then they drove home in silence. You could have heard a pin drop all day in the silent house. And it reminded them both of the day of Ted's and Chad's deaths. Neither of them ate, neither of them spoke, and when the doorbell rang that afternoon, they both jumped. It was flowers from Matt, he had sent a small bouquet to each of them. And Ophélie and Pip were equally touched. The cards said simply, “Thinking of you today. Love, Matt.”
“I love him,” Pip said simply as she read the card. Things were so simple at her age. So much simpler than they would ever be again.
“He's a nice man, and a good friend,” Ophélie said, and Pip nodded in answer, and took the flowers upstairs to her room. Even Mousse was quiet, and seemed to sense that neither of his owners was having a good day. Andrea had sent them flowers too, which had arrived the previous afternoon. She was not religious or she'd have gone to mass with them, but they knew that she would be thinking about them both, as was Matt.
By nightfall, they were both anxious to go to bed. Pip turned the television on in her mother's room, and Ophélie asked her to turn it off, or go watch it somewhere else. But Pip didn't want to be alone, so she stayed in the silent room with her mother, and it was a mercy when they both finally went to sleep in each other's arms. Ophélie hadn't told her, but Pip knew that her mother had spent several hours that day crying in Chad's room. It had been an utterly awful day for them in every way. There was nothing good about the anniversary, no obvious blessing, no compensation for what they'd gone through. It was a day, like most of the last year, that was entirely about loss.
And in the morning, when the phone rang, they were both at the kitchen table, where Ophélie was silently reading the paper, while