insufficient now. Yes, a promotion was a big deal, especially in Angela’s world. After Wes died, she’d transitioned from homeschooling her children to working forty-five hours during the week as a realty office receptionist and fifteen hours at a local spa’s front desk on the weekend. But as her military father had always said, punctuality was tantamount to godliness—one of the only lessons he’d intentionally taught her before shipping her off to live with her aunt in California.
“It’s fine. My husband is taking the boys to a Friday night movie, so I’d planned to catch up on work anyway. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Oh yes. More than.” Angela moved toward Zach, who hadn’t yet acknowledged her. “Hey, bud.” She squatted down to his level and placed a hand over his book.
He glanced up, his already big blue eyes made larger by the lenses in his glasses. “Oh, hi, Mom.”
“How was your time at group?” That’s what they called the two hours they spent here every Friday afternoon. Group.
Whatever they called it, this place was a godsend. When her sweet Lilly had gotten into a fight, Zach had received his first F, and Kylee had stopped communicating with her beyond complaints and eye rolls, Angela had been at a loss. Punishment hadn’t seemed quite right, even though their behaviors warranted that. The school counselor had suggested Philip’s Place, which hosted weekly grief support for the whole family. They split up into different age groups and used storytelling, art, music, play, and talking to process their grief together.
All three of the kids had fallen in love with their time here, and they were usually enthusiastic when she asked how their day had gone.
Zach rubbed his fingers along the edge of the comic book’s glossy pages. “It was fine.”
It was clear that was all she was going to get from him, at least for now. “Awesome.” She forced cheer into her voice. “Kylee’s waiting in the car if you want to join her. I’ll grab Lil and meet you there.”
“Cool.” He snagged his backpack and book, his chicken legs lumbering out of the office.
“Sorry for the trouble. It won’t happen again.” Angela moved to pick up Lilly, but Juliet’s hand shot out to touch Angela’s arm.
“Angela, would you mind sitting for a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”
Oh no. Here it came. Was the counseling center finally going to begin charging for the group sessions? For the five or so months the kids had been attending, group had been free. But what if the gravy train was about to come to a grinding halt? How would she ever manage to pay for it? Her new promotion came with a raise, but she’d hoped—
“Angela?” Juliet lowered her voice.
“Sorry.” She perched on the edge of the brown seat Zach had vacated. “What is it?”
“First, we really miss you around here.”
“Oh. Thank you.” How could Juliet miss her? She didn’t even know Angela, who’d only attended two group sessions months ago. “I wish I could make it more often, but you know. Work.”
No, that wasn’t the only reason, but she wasn’t admitting the other to a therapist. Because only one emotion had overtaken Angela when she’d listened to the other members go on about how much they missed their spouses.
Rage.
Rage at the senselessness of Wes’s death. At his choices leading up to it. At him.
But what good did all of that anger do? Wes was gone, and sitting around talking about it wouldn’t change that. Not for her, at least. Besides, she was too busy making sure her kids had the things they needed, since it was now all on her shoulders. Yes, Eva and Sherry had offered to lend her money, but Angela had to show her children how to survive when tragedy hit.
That strength was the only thing holding them together fifteen months later.
“I understand.” Juliet’s fingers stilled in their steady movement across Lilly’s head. “Have you ever explained to your kids why you aren’t here?” Her words gentled, as if she sensed that giving Angela one more thing to manage would break her.
“They know I have to work.” Angela hesitated. “Why do you ask?”
“During our full-group sharing time today, your children expressed concern that you are distant and don’t seem to care about your husband’s death.”
Angela shot out of her chair. “That’s not true at all.” Oops. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Lilly didn’t stir.
“Angela, I’m not accusing you.” Juliet talked as if she were addressing a wounded animal