about extensive shrapnel damage to the mandible and teeth and destruction of the eye orbit and the zygomatic arch. She didn’t seem to have any tears left, now. She and Jordan both stood in the parlor dry and stiff as pillars of salt.
“At least your dear father didn’t suffer,” some well-meaning twit said.
“No,” Jordan said through gritted teeth.
“How did it happen, dear?”
“A hunting accident, no one’s fault,” Jordan repeated, all the while wanting to scream Of course he suffered! He hung on for two weeks after the accident, you think he didn’t suffer? The party of hunters who had found her father just after the accident might have saved him from bleeding out in the woods, but they hadn’t saved him from suffering. The doctors had kept saying in jocular tones, “Your dad’s a tough one!” as if that helped to see him lying in the hospital bed, looking more and more shrunken as the infection set in.
“At least his family was with him at the end.”
“Yes.” All those hours they sat stroking his hands, Anneliese on one side and Jordan on the other. Can he hear us? Jordan had asked the doctors, and they said something about blast injuries to the eardrum, which seemed to be their way of saying they weren’t sure. He seemed to pass in and out of consciousness—he couldn’t speak, not with the broken jaw and mangled tongue, but sometimes he tried to move. “He threw my hand away,” Anneliese had cried once, and Jordan had climbed into the bed and put her arms around her father until he quieted. “I can’t stand to see him in pain,” Anneliese said, white as frost on a window. “Keep him asleep. As much sedation as he needs.”
Only two weeks’ worth, as it turned out.
The doorbell rang. Jordan went down, greeted more well-wishers, took another casserole into the kitchen. Every surface was already overflowing with casseroles and potato salad. Go away, all of you, and take your food with you. But these people were here for her father, she reminded herself. Rare book dealers and auction house owners; neighbors and church acquaintances; a cluster of fellow antiques dealers come from New York with hearty booms of “Fine fellow, Dan McBride. A thing like this happening, such a careful man . . .”
Garrett’s voice in her ear as he wrapped her in a hug. “How are you?” I don’t want to be hugged, Jordan wanted to cry, I don’t want to be asked how I’m feeling. I want to be left alone—but that wasn’t fair. She made herself hug him back, trying not to feel smothered.
“You poor dears,” a neighbor clucked. “Jordan, you poor child, not having your father to give you away at your wedding—”
Jordan’s hand stole up to the Lalique pearls at her ears. Given for a wedding, worn for a funeral. Garrett, seeing she wasn’t going to speak up, said, “The wedding’s been postponed till next spring.”
A sudden explosion of tears at the other end of the parlor. Ruth’s voice, so unexpected because Ruth never had tantrums. “—she wants to come in!” Pink-faced and tearful, wrenching at the door to the back bedroom where Taro whined and scratched, locked up for the afternoon. “I want my dog—” Her voice scaling up to a wail, as Anneliese cut swiftly through the crowd and took her by the wrist.
“It’s time you went to your room, Ruth.”
“Not without my dog,” Ruth shrieked, yanking away.
Jordan shook off Garrett’s arm and moved to scoop up her sister. “I’ll put her to bed, Anna.”
“Thank you,” Anneliese said in a heartfelt murmur, heading off an incoming batch of neighbors as Jordan carried Ruth upstairs. Ruth was sobbing, flushed from heat and emotion.
“It’s all right to cry, cricket. Just take off this heavy dress and climb in bed.”
“C-can I have Taro?”
“You can have anything you want, Ruthie-pie.”
Ruth and Taro were soon snuggled up together, Ruth’s swollen lids drifting shut despite herself. “Hund,” she whispered as Taro nuzzled her elbow. “Hübscher Hund . . .” Jordan paused as she pulled the bedroom curtains, disquieted. Ruth hadn’t lapsed into German for years.
“Thank you,” Anneliese said wearily as Jordan came back into the parlor. “I couldn’t think what to do if she started screaming.”
“She’ll sleep now.” Jordan rubbed at her eyes. “Ruth’s the lucky one, getting some peace and quiet. How much longer do you think this will last?”
“Hours.” Anneliese massaged her forehead. “Why don’t you sneak out for a while? Walk around the block, have Garrett