not a single cloud. And it’s not even hot.”
“We couldn’t have asked for better weather!” said one of the volunteers, scurrying past with a box.
“Linda, look at this.” Her father grabbed her mother’s arm in his enthusiasm. “Linda? Yoo-hoo?”
“Yes,” her mother said quietly, from behind her sunglasses.
“Look at the people who gave their time to make this happen. Not just our friends, but people from the development.” Allie’s father gestured to the volunteers. “Lin, it’s a tribute to Jill, it truly is. I hope you see it that way. With everybody working together, we can cure this awful disease, and no other kid will have to go through what Jill did. No other family will have to go through what we did.”
Her mother pursed her lips harder.
Allie put her arm around her. “Mom, it’s okay,” she said quietly, and some of the volunteers looked over.
“Linda, this 5K is a great thing.” Allie’s father touched her mother’s arm again. “This is our silver lining. We can make sure that Jill didn’t die in vain. We can give meaning to what happened to her, to all of us.”
“No,” her mother whispered. “No, we can’t, Mark.”
“Honey, don’t be that way.”
“Don’t tell me how to be. Don’t tell me how to mourn my daughter.”
“Honey, this isn’t the time or the place.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to come. You made me. You’re sick.”
“Mom.” Allie recoiled, shocked. Volunteers were sneaking glances at them, and suddenly Sasha Barrow was running toward them. Her blond ponytail swung, and she had on a blue Jog For Jill T-shirt, which made Allie want to barf.
“Dr. Garvey?” Sasha called out, reaching them. “I’m Sasha Barrow, Daphne’s daughter. She’s out of the country and sent me over to help. I’m going to run, too.”
“Terrific.” Allie’s father recovered with a smile. “This is my wife, Linda, and daughter Allie.”
“Hi, Mrs. Garvey, and I know Allie. Hi, Allie.” Sasha grinned in a way that was convincing, to everyone but Allie.
“Hi, Sasha.” Kill any squirrels today?
Allie’s father rubbed his hands together. “Well, Sasha, I’m sure we can put you to work. Allie, why don’t you get Mom some water, and you guys can sit at the registration table. Fran’s coming at the end, they’re driving in from New York.”
“Okay, Dad.” Allie led her mother through the volunteers, found her a folding chair to sit on, and got her a bottle of water, which she opened for her. “Here we go.”
“This is not a silver lining,” her mother said under her breath.
“Dad didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Allie sat down next to her mother and put her arm around her back.
“It’s a terrible day. It’s too sunny.” Her mother turned to Allie, her lips still pursed. “I’m not myself. I don’t feel like myself. I’m sorry, honey. For everything. I’ll be better soon. I’m trying.”
“It’s okay.” Allie felt her throat thicken.
“You know I love you.”
“Yes, I love you, too.” Allie felt tears come to her eyes, but blinked them away. God forbid Sasha saw.
“When is Fran coming, again?”
“At the end.”
“He’s the sick one, not me!” Her mother raised her voice, and Allie’s gut tensed.
“Mom, please.”
“Okay,” her mother said, turning away, and Allie let it go. Allie’s father, the volunteers, and Sasha hustled back and forth, and in time, the runners and spectators arrived, registered at the table, and went to the starting line, milling around.
Allie noticed there weren’t very many runners, certainly not the two or three hundred that her father had been predicting, and it never got better. She counted only forty-eight, including Sasha. Two police cruisers departed, leaving only one and the ambulance. Boxes of T-shirts, caps, flyers, and waivers remained unopened. Stacked pallets of bottled water were untouched. It was an obvious failure, and Allie felt terrible for her father. She would have gone over to comfort him, but didn’t want to leave her mother. She felt torn between two unhappy parents.
At race time, her father made a speech that Allie couldn’t hear, gesturing to Allie and her mother, but wisely not calling them over. The tiny crowd of spectators clapped, her father fired a starting pistol, and the runners took off, sprinting down Thoroughbred Road, rounding the corner, and disappearing from sight.
Her mother touched Allie’s arm. “Go tell Dad I want to go home.”
“Mom, really?” Allie asked, nervous. “He can’t leave now. It just started.”
“Tell him. I can’t do this.”
“Okay. Stay here.” Allie got up and went over to her father.
“Hey, honey, having fun?”
“Yes.” Allie felt terrible for him, knowing