Page 33

Four Years Before

Missy had not been allowed to see Amber’s body. She was so broken from the accident, she wasn’t even herself anymore, Mom had said. They’d had her cremated.

But when Dina Weston died, there was a body, a viewing. decided to go and suggested her mother come, too. Perhaps it would help.

“I’m not sure I’m welcome,”

her mother had said, crying nonstop, as she had been since she’d heard about Dina. Someone from church had told them Dina had died of anaphylactic shock and this had set her mother off. But as it turned out, Dina had not died of an allergic reaction she’d spent her life guarding against but of an aortic aneurysm that no one had seen coming.

“I can’t face her,”

her mother said. “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,”

Missy replied. “She came to Amber’s funeral. They both did.”

So many people came to pay their respects, but it was Dina who most remembered. She hadn’t seen her in years, not since she and Amber abruptly stopped being friends. knew the reason why, but she hadn’t told anyone. In spite of what Amber thought of her, she’d always been good at keeping secrets.

Amber’s friends had been very dramatic at the funeral. Lots of wailing and Ohmygods. Missy knew the feelings were sincere but also like a performance. Dina’s distress, on the other hand, had felt all too real. She’d sobbed quietly through the service and then at the reception at their home afterward, she seemed to be struggling. Missy overheard her asking her mother if Amber’s clothes were still in the closet, if her toothbrush was still in the bathroom, and Detective Weston kept hushing her, saying, “This is not the appropriate place to have this conversation.”

But Missy had immediately understood what Dina was asking: How could a person be gone when they still felt so present?

“Do you want to come to her room?”

Missy had asked her at the reception.

“Could I?”

Dina asked.

“Sure,”

she’d replied.

They went down the hall and into Amber’s room. The bed was unmade. Brochures for a zip-lining excursion in Mexico Aunt Pauline wanted to take her on were on the nightstand, along with the picture of Amber and Calvin from junior prom. Calvin had not come to the funeral, which had surprised her, but Dina had, which also had surprised her.

“Her stuff is still in the closet?”

Dina asked, touching the ruffled hem of the prom dress Amber would never wear. She inhaled. “It still smells like her. Almost like she’s still here.”

Missy watched. From her years of spying, she had developed a sense of who you could tell things to and who you could not. Amber had not been a confidante before but now was. Dina’s mother was someone you could talk to, and so, Missy thought, was Dina.

“She is still here,”

Missy said.

“For real?”

Dina asked.

“Not for real real. But to me, it seems like she’s here. I talk to her all the time.”

“You do? What about?”

“That’s private,”

Missy said.

“I understand,”

Dina said, chastened. She paused to finger her arm of bracelets. “Does she ever talk about me?”

“What do you think she would say?”

Missy asked. It was as close as she’d ever come to saying out loud what she knew Amber had done to Dina.

“That’s private,”

Dina had replied.

“I understand,”

Missy replied. “Mostly she answers my questions, but I can ask her if she has anything to say to you the next time I see her.”

“Really?”

Dina said. “You can do that?”

“I can and I will,”

Missy replied.

The promise seemed to bring Dina some comfort. She thanked Missy. “I think I’ll go find my mom now.”

Dina left for college not long after that and Missy didn’t see her again. And now she was gone.

In the end, could not convince her mother to go to the funeral. And she knew her father wouldn’t be welcome after all the trouble he’d given Detective Weston. But the two of them had been compatriots before. remembered that. So she’d gone alone.

“Thank you for coming, Missy,”

Detective Weston said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Do you still go by Missy?”

“I go by now,” she said.

“,”

Detective Weston repeated, and hugged her again, holding on for a long time. That first time she’d met Dina’s mother, had felt some unspoken understanding between them, even if back then, she’d had no idea why. So she tried to communicate in the silence what she knew. That people could be gone and be here at the same time. You just had to pay attention.

“Would you like to see Dina?”

she asked.

would. She had something to tell her.

Detective Weston led her to the dark wood casket at the front of the sanctuary. Missy peered inside. Dina looked as Missy remembered, except for her hair, which was no longer in the pretty long braids but in equally pretty coiled curls.

Dina’s mom was hovering above her. “Do you think I can have a minute alone with her?”

asked.

“Of course.”

She ought to have told Dina sooner. She thought she had more time. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You didn’t know. You never knew.

leaned over so she could speak in Dina’s ear, though she knew this was unnecessary. They could hear you no matter where you were. “I asked Amber about you,”

she whispered. “And she said to tell you that she was really, really sorry.”