for me, and Hank, who just looked bewildered. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve their kindness. I think they were the kind of people who just gave it out for free.
“Thank you for this,” I said. “I owe you more than I can repay.”
What was left to say? I’m sorry? Good luck? Take care? I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Greeley, and I silently promised them that nothing would happen to their son.
And then I shut the door.
I stood on the sidewalk and looked in the lighted window of the apartment. The shades were up. Muddie passed by the window in a navy dress. I could glimpse Jamie sitting on the couch. I couldn’t hear the radio, but I knew it was on. They’d probably already had the turkey and the dressing and the pie.
I walked up the stairs and pushed open the door. Muddie turned, startled.
“You came!” She rushed forward to hug me.
The hug lasted a long time. Usually, in our family, we gave quick, fierce hugs that resembled strangulation.
Over her shoulder, I met Jamie’s eyes. He dropped his gaze as he got up to greet me. “So you came after all.”
Da heard the commotion and hurried into the room. Muddie finally let me go and Da hugged me quickly. “You’re where you belong,” he said.
I wasn’t sure where I belonged anymore. But I was where I wanted to be.
I noticed that Da was wearing a suit, the only one he owned. “Where are you off to?” I asked him.
“The wake, of course.”
“You’re going?”
“Yes, I’m going,” he said. “I’ve got to pay my respects. We’re all going. You should come, too. You were his girl.”
“I can’t go. Everyone thinks —”
“What difference does it make that the paper prints a lie about you? You are what you are.”
“I’m afraid of Nate,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m mixed up in everything, and he knows it. I’m afraid he might do something.”
“He’s not going to do anything,” Da said. His voice was firm. “The Corrigans and the Benedicts are family friends.”
“I’ve got something to tell you all first,” I said. “I found Delia.”
The news seemed to freeze them in a tableau, as if they were on a stage and had hit their marks and they were waiting for the director to tell them where to move. Over a storm of questions from Muddie, I spilled the story of finding out that Delia had lived in my apartment, about her romance with Nate. I had to tell the story between a chorus of “No!” and “I don’t believe it!” from Muddie.
The words tumbled out, about her house, and the way she looked, and how bitter I’d felt when I left. I looked at Da. “You knew about Delia and Nate, didn’t you?”
He pulled at his tie. “I didn’t know anything for sure,” he said. “I suspected plenty. But it was her life to live.”
“Delia and Nate Benedict,” Muddie breathed. She sat down abruptly on the couch. “Cross of Christ about us. I don’t believe it.”
Jamie shook his head. “Well, that explains all those weekends away.”
“Do you still think it’s a good idea to go to the wake?” I asked Da. “Considering?”
“It was five years ago, and it’s got nothing to do with us,” Da said firmly. “Nobody knew, did they, until now?”
“Angela knew,” I said.
“Well, that’s between Nate and his wife,” Da said. “Anyway, I’ve heard Angela won’t leave her bedroom, so we won’t see her at all. I’ve known the man for twenty years. I’m going, and whoever comes along, that’s fine with me.”
In the end I went because I couldn’t stay away. You did this for people you loved, you went to honor them at wakes and funerals. That had been embedded in me since childhood. I would go, and I would kneel and say a prayer, and then Billy would be put to rest, and I would have a part in the grieving. Nate and I were in our proper places now, both of us mourners. Both of us dead inside.
The house on Broadway was glowing with light. Cars packed the street, and we saw a steady stream of people going in and out. The temperature had dropped, and the wind was cold, the kind that cut through your clothes. A wet, thick snow had begun to fall. We hesitated in our little clot of nervousness and gravity until Da took a breath and climbed the porch steps.
We passed through the front hall into the living room. Folding