tell you is to watch him today, and then make up your own mind about whether you want him to stay with us or not.”
In the end, it was Hildie’s decision not to pressure her to keep Josh at the Academy that impressed Brenda the most. By the time Hildie took her into her own small apartment on the ground floor of the mansion so she could freshen up and change her clothes for Adam’s funeral, Brenda was already half convinced that despite what had happened, she would not be taking Josh home with her that afternoon.
But still, she would watch Josh carefully through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon.
And only then, if she were satisfied that he truly was as happy as Hildie Kramer claimed he was, would she make up her mind.
12
Jeanette Aldrich sat in front of the mirror on her vanity table, staring at the image reflected in the glass. Could it really be her? Those puffy eyes, red from lack of sleep, and surrounded by dark circles of fatigue?
The gray strands that seemed to have salted her curly mass of chestnut hair virtually overnight? Could they really be hers?
Was it really only three days since she had not only looked, but felt, ten years younger?
It seemed more like a year, for every minute since she had gazed at Adam’s distorted face on Saturday morning had dragged by like an hour of pure torture. Always, that image hung in her mind.
Not the Adam she had known, not the beautiful, quiet boy with large dark eyes and thick curly hair that matched her own. That image, the image that smiled enigmatically at her from a framed photograph on the vanity, was gone. Gone forever, to be replaced by the grotesquely smashed face she’d seen on the gurney on Saturday morning.
All his features twisted out of position, his skin torn and smeared with blood, his hair matted, his scalp nearly torn away.
Would she ever forget that image, ever be able to replace it with her memories of the living child? Or would it always be there, superimposing itself on every memory she had of Adam?
She shouldn’t have done it—shouldn’t have insisted on seeing his body, shouldn’t have irrationally refused to accept the truth of his death until she’d seen the corpse for herself.
She shuddered at the word.
Corpse. Such an ugly word to describe what was left of her beautiful child.
But it was too late—too late to go back and choose to remember Adam the way he had been. For the rest of her life that battered visage would haunt her.
Her fingers feeling nearly as numb as her mind, she began putting on her makeup, doing her best to repair the ravages of her grief, but knowing even as she worked that it would do no good. No matter what kind of mask she put on her face, there was no way to cover the bleeding wound inside her, no way to still the pain raging within her soul.
Twelve years old!
He was only twelve! It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he have come home that night and let her take care of him? Why had he turned away from her?
Now she would never know, never have another chance to soothe him, to assure him that nothing was wrong with him, that he was a perfect child.
“Honey?”
Jeanette’s eyes shifted to the reflection of her husband. Chet was standing at the open door to the bedroom, his voice, filled with concern, interrupting her reverie. “It’s getting late. The car will be here in a few minutes.”
Jeanette nodded once, but made no move to go on with her makeup. Her eyes remained fixed on Chet. He still looked as he always had. Husky, handsome, and seeming several years younger than he was. Did he feel nothing for the loss of his son? Didn’t he even care that Adam was gone forever?
That’s not fair, she told herself, forcing her hands to return to their task. He just handles it differently, that’s all. The difference between men and women. We wear our hearts on our sleeves, and they don’t. It doesn’t mean he isn’t hurting just as much as I am.
Steadying her trembling hands, she finished her makeup, then put on the navy-blue dress she’d chosen for the funeral. As she heard a car door slam outside, and the doorbell ring a few seconds later, she started down the stairs, her eyes carefully avoiding the closed door to Adam’s room. So far, she