direction of his daughter, and while I knew he couldn't see her, I also knew he imagined that he could.
“Oh, baby girl,” he whispered tearfully. “You are not the reason my life was ruined. That's all on me. I did that. You hear me? You had absolutely nothin' to do with that.”
He glanced at me and asked, “She can hear me, right?”
Swallowing at my watery laugh, I bobbed my head. “She can. She's listening and she's,” I exhaled against a sob, “she's so happy. She's so happy you're finally here.”
He turned back to where Jamie stood. “You could've come to me, baby girl. I've always been out there.”
Jamie shook her head and I interpreted, “She didn't know where to go or how to get there. So, she's just ... been here.”
Moe's eyes slid reluctantly from the blank spot in front of him to look at me. Realization spread across his face, as his lips parted and his eyes grew wide.
“And you've been with her.”
I nodded, dropping my gaze to the porch floor. “Yeah ...”
“You've been her friend.”
The best.
“Yeah.”
He exhaled, cocking his head and loosening his shoulders. “She wasn't alone, because of you.”
I didn't know what to do, or what to say. I could only shrug and swallow again, in an act of desperation to keep from losing it, as I knew this was it. She would never be there again, waiting for my return, or listening to my troubles, or helping me decide on an outfit. She would be gone soon, no longer hanging on, and I would be truly alone.
I began to cry.
“She's my best friend,” I told him, needing him to know that I wasn't only there for her but her for me as well. “She's been my best friend since I was six years old.” I looked at her, my oldest and closest friend, wondering how I had any heart left to break, and added, “She was my only friend.”
Moe blew out a breath. “She'll leave now, won't she?”
My eyes closed, searing her smile against my brain. “Yes.”
The wind blew harsh against my skin, and then I felt the warmth of his arms, enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort and mutual sadness. I settled against his chest, and sighed to the peaceful thrumming of his heart, and together, we wept on the porch of the house where his daughter had died and become my friend.
“Thank you, Andy,” he whispered into my hair. “Thank you. You've made me happier than you can ever know. I dunno what's in the cards for you and my boy, but you're so special, baby, and you deserve to be happy, too.”
I could only nod, as I pulled away from his comforting embrace. And when I finally opened my eyes, Jamie was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ANDREA
Mom had insisted I invite Moe in for dinner, and to my surprise, he'd accepted.
“We never met the owners when we bought the house,” Dad explained, passing the potatoes.
My friend nodded, helping himself to a heaping spoonful. “My wife walked away from the place after the accident.”
“What about you?” Mer asked, popping a piece of pot roast into her mouth. “What did you do?”
“I became addicted to drugs and bounced from couch to couch, until I found my home on the streets,” Moe replied, so matter-of-factly my mother's chewing slowed and Willa dropped her fork. Moe chuckled at their shock. “My daughter's death made my wife angry and hateful, and it made me stupid.”
“Understandable, though,” Dad commented, nodding somberly. “On both accounts. Everybody copes with grief differently.”
Willa shook her head and pursed her lips. “I don't think there's any excuse. I mean, I'm sorry, but a coping mechanism or not, drugs are never okay.”
I opened my mouth to speak, in defense of myself and my friend, when Moe spoke first.
“You're absolutely right,” he said, nodding. “I'm not proud of what I've done, and I thank God every single day of my life that I have the Marinos. If it weren't for them, I'd still be out there, sleepin' in the gutter and bummin' cigarettes.”
His smile turned nostalgic as he said, “Those guys, Zach and Vinnie ... they always took care of me. Made sure I was fed, and eventually, they got me a job.”
Mom's eyes flitted quickly toward mine before saying, “They're good friends.”
“They are,” Moe agreed. “They're great guys.”
My sisters exchanged a pointed look. I could only imagine what they were thinking and I knew I was better off not knowing. Their judgment didn't shock me, but it