Chapter 4

I woke up in a hospital.

The doctor handed me my chart.

"You're still young. You can have other children."

For a moment I couldn't move, and then the tears just came.

My phone rang. It was someone from the cemetery.

"Ms. Sullivan, we've had a lot of rain lately, and the hillside near the cemetery has had serious landslides. Your mother's grave may need to be relocated."

My heart felt like a big hand had closed around it.

I couldn't give my mother an easy life while she was alive, and now I couldn't even give her peace in death.

I made it out of the room on shaky legs, and there they were, a pair of figures I knew too well.

John stood there with a few boxes of medicine in his hands, murmuring gently to Lois.

"Don't worry. I'll keep you and the baby safe."

Something in my chest lurched, and my legs gave out under me.

On the day I lost my child, Lois was pregnant.

The cramping came back low in my belly, like countless needles driving in.

John turned, saw me, and froze.

"Kayla, what's wrong?"

He rushed over and pulled me up off the floor.

I clenched my teeth and shook my head.

"I want to go see my mom."

When my mother was alive, John visited her regularly, always coaxing a smile onto her face.

After she died, he went with me every year to pay respects, swearing at her headstone that he would take care of me for the rest of my life.

John went still, then slowly remembered that today was the anniversary of her death.

Guilt spread across his face.

"I'll come with you."

We'd barely gotten into the car when Lois squeezed in after us.

"I'm coming too. Might as well meet this guy's future mother-in-law."

I wanted to send her away.

But the miscarriage had left me too weak to get the words out.

John opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally just stepped on the gas in silence.

We reached the cemetery and watched the workers dig the grave open.

I held the urn against my chest and couldn't hold back the sobs.

John rested my head on his shoulder.

"Your mother wouldn't want you this upset."

Lois laughed under her breath.

"Don't rush. You'll be down there keeping her company soon enough. You can cry all you want then. Save your tears for now."

"That's enough!"

John snapped it out. Lois pursed her lips.

"Fine, fine, my mistake. Let me hold the urn for you, so the two of you can cry in each other's arms."

She yanked the urn out of my hands, and then her foot slipped and she pitched over backward.

Crack.

The urn hit the ground and split apart.

A gust of wind swept through and carried the gray-white powder up into the sky.

My eyes went red in an instant. I threw myself at Lois and clamped both hands around her throat.

"You did that on purpose!"

Pain tore through my body.

John flipped me off her and checked her over, frantic.

Then he looked at me, his eyes full of fury.

"Lois didn't mean it. You could've just picked it up!"

He saw the cuts the broken stone had left on me, and his eyes tightened.

Lois got to her feet and ground the ashes into the dirt under her shoe.

She scoffed.

"She's dead. Hanging on to ashes is just feeling sorry for yourself."

She kicked the ashes and dirt together into a rough heap.

"I broke your mom's urn, so I'll give her a grave to make up for it."

John looked at me, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Lois had better have your apology within three days, or you deal with the consequences."

He took Lois by the hand and walked off without looking back.

And I knelt there, shaking, gathering up what little ash was left.

I cried until I had no voice.

A week later, at the wedding, John stood at the end of the aisle in a custom-tailored suit.

The doors of the hall swung open, but it wasn't the bride who walked in. It was a delivery courier.

"I have a package from Ms. Kayla Sullivan to give to you. It needs a signature in person."

When he saw what was inside, John froze where he stood.