Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,13

You’ll get through this, Maggie, I promise you. You just have to take it one day at a time, one hour at a time, or five minutes. I’m really sorry.” Maggie nodded as tears filled her eyes.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. If I survived, why couldn’t he? He was bigger and stronger than I am, and such a good person.”

“The mysteries of life,” Helen said quietly. “Why did my sister get meningitis, and I didn’t? Things just happen. And Aden will be okay too. You have each other.” Maggie nodded, wanting to believe her, for Aden’s sake if nothing else.

“My father died when I was nine, and my mother never really recovered. And then my brother died nineteen years later. I think that finished her.” Helen nodded. By then, Helen had made the beds, picked up the towels and laundry, and headed downstairs, as Maggie went with her, seeming a little more alive. The house was already looking better.

“Why don’t you put some clothes on and we’ll go for a walk, just down the street, and then I’ll pick up some groceries. You two can’t live on week-old turkey casserole and shriveled lemons.” She smiled and Maggie smiled back at her.

“I think Aden has been living on cornflakes and frozen pizza. I haven’t been cooking.” She went upstairs to dress then and came back ten minutes later in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair properly brushed for the first time since the funeral. She suddenly realized how she must look to Aden, and felt guilty about that too. She didn’t want to turn into her mother, shattered forever, broken by what had happened. She had to show him that they could survive, even without his father.

They went for a short walk, as Helen had suggested, and drove to the grocery store. Maggie didn’t want to see anyone, but she didn’t want to starve Aden. She herself had barely eaten since the plane crash and had lost weight. They filled the basket with simple, easy-to-prepare food, and went back to the house.

“Thank you, Helen. I just couldn’t get it together.”

“I know. That’s why I came over.” She was a pretty, petite blonde. She had three sons, Aden’s teammate was the oldest, the youngest was six, and her husband was the head of an advertising agency in Chicago. They went to all their son’s hockey games, just as she and Brad did. “Do you need me to make any calls for you?” she offered. Maggie shook her head.

“I haven’t checked my messages in weeks. There’s no one I want to talk to.”

“It might be a good idea to check,” she suggested gently.

When Maggie looked at her phone, she saw that she had thirty-nine messages. The thought of listening to them was exhausting. “I’ll do it later,” she said. Helen left shortly after, and Maggie sat down in the kitchen to listen to the messages. She had nine from Brad’s office manager, Phil Abrams, at least a dozen from the parents of Aden’s friends, four from their insurance company, and six from the airline. The others were from friends of Brad’s and some people she didn’t even remember, or want to talk to. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she called Brad’s office manager first, and apologized for not calling him back sooner. He had worked for the firm for twenty years, and she knew how much Brad respected him.

“Can I come to see you, Maggie?”

“I’m not seeing anyone just now,” she said in a soft voice. He could hear how shattered she was.

“I don’t want to intrude on you, but it’s about the business.” She realized then that she owed it to Brad to meet with Phil, no matter how hard it was for her. She couldn’t just bury herself alive as her mother had done. And even her mother had gone out and worked. She hadn’t hidden at home, she’d had her children to take care of. And Maggie had Aden, and Brad’s business. She agreed to meet with Phil the next day, and said she’d come to the office. Then she asked him to call the insurance company for her.

“They don’t want to talk to me. They need to speak to you. They’ve called here about fifteen times too. They’re very eager to connect with you.” She sighed and promised to call them. “The airline has been calling here too. I think you have to speak to them, Maggie. No matter how painful it