I take a long sip of wine, settling into a kitchen chair opposite her. “We don’t know he’s dead.”
“Sweetheart.” Mom reaches across the table for my hand. I pull back. I can’t go there. Not yet. It’s like ever since I got the call, I’ve been transported back in time, to when Ledger and I met. The miracle of it, of him coming into the diner that night when he could have stopped at Denny’s or a burger joint and instead, he came to Over Easy. He slid into a booth across from me and ran his hand over his scruffy jaw and smiled. A smile I will never, ever forget.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I tell her, believing the words I say. “But I’d know if he was dead, Mom. I’d feel it.”
Mom nods, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want you to hold onto false hope.”
“They’re still looking for his body.”
“The truck went into a river, Penny.”
“So?”
“So,” she says slowly. “Measure your expectations.”
I hear her, I do. But I don’t want to listen. The silence is thick and the August air is so hot and heavy and I just want to sleep with a dozen fans pointed at my face. When I wake, maybe this will all have passed. The heat and the accident. It will all have been a bad dream. A nightmare. This isn’t my life. It can’t be. Not when Ledger and I haven’t done any of the things we planned. He can’t be gone when we’ve only just started.
“Want me to stay the night?” Mom asks. “I could sleep on the sofa. I’m not sure you should be by yourself.”
I don’t want her here, though; I want to sleep believing Ledger will be here when I wake. In my bed. I want to sleep with the hope of Ledger coming into the house late at night, sliding under the sheets. His breath warm as he kisses my neck, his hands running over my body as he tells me all about how much he missed me.
I tell Mom no. “I’m usually home alone when Ledger’s on the road.”
“I understand, but this isn’t usually, Penny,” she says, her voice fraught with worry. “This is all new territory.”
I stand, having finished my wine, grateful for all she’s done today. “Thanks, Mom, but I just want to be by myself.” I close my eyes, not wanting to cry. If I start crying again, it will feel like I’ve given up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says. “I need a smoke anyway and Lord knows you won’t let me here.”
“I love you,” I tell her as we walk to the front door. “I’ll call tomorrow. Maybe the police will have news by morning.”
She gives me one last hug before walking away. When she’s gone, I check on the twins. They’re both out cold. Then I go to the garage and I pull out the lawnmower and I squeeze the handlebar as the motor hums to life, vibrating. My body shakes. I said I wouldn’t cry, but I chop the long grass in the backyard until the tears fall so hard I can’t see.
When I wake, I roll over, my hands stretched out across Ledger’s side of the bed. I sink my face into his pillow. It smells like him. His sweat, his skin. This is where I want to stay, in this smell, in this promise. The kids are awake, tiptoeing into my room, Benny’s round eyes peeking around the door, Tiny clasping a stuffed bunny to her chest. I pat the bed, needing them to crawl in with me. Stay with me. Mom was right. I shouldn’t be alone.
“I need Papa to be home soon,” Benny says. “He was going to teach me how to ride my bike.”
My arms wrap around them, and I kiss the tops of their heads, threading my fingers through their thick curls. If he’s really gone, I have no idea how in the world I am going survive this. Life without him. It won’t be fair. I’ve had hundreds of mornings like this. In our bed, with our kids. Slow, easy, mornings with rumpled hair and rumpled sheets, and he hasn’t. He has been on the road, working, missing everything. Missing so damn much, it makes my chest ache and I start to cry.
I cry more of those tears I was determined not to shed and they won’t stop.
Clementine wipes my cheeks and tells me, “Don’t cry, Mama. It’s okay, Mama.”
I want to believe her, to think this is okay, but it’s not. If Ledger is gone then nothing will ever be okay again.
There’s a knock on the door. The doorbell rings. I reach for my phone. I missed texts from my coworkers, Jack, my cousin Ellen — all of them checking in, sending their love. One from Bethany, too. Dropping off breakfast. Leaving it on the porch. Love you.
My stomach rolls and I realize I didn’t eat dinner. “Bethany brought us breakfast,” I tell the twins. “Let’s go get it.” I reach for my pale pink terrycloth bathrobe and slip my feet into plastic flip-flops. Better than slippers; I can run out to the store in them.
Padding down the hall, I rub my eyes, mascara caked on the corners, and I pull my curls into a hair-tie before opening the door. It already feels hot, and I call to the twins to turn on the fans.
Homemade muffins and sliced fruit and chocolate milk fill a tote bag, but that isn’t what I see first.
A woman I’ve never seen before stands on my front steps. Platinum and petite and wearing a perfect face of make-up. Are you fucking kidding me?
“It’s not even eight in the morning,” I tell her, grabbing the bag of food. “If reporters seriously think they can come here and—”
She cuts me off. “I’m not a reporter,” she says.
“Then who are you? Because seriously, after the night I’ve had…”
“I’m Emma James,” she says, pulling her shoulders back, eyes locked on mine. I try to look away, but her gaze is adamant. “You’re Penny Stone, right? And you’re married to Ledger? Ledger Stone?”
I nod.
“Well, here’s the thing, Penny,” she says, twisting her pink lips. “So am I.”
Chapter Six
The words take a second to register.
Emma repeats herself. “I’m married to your husband, only… only he…” Tears fill her eyes as she tries to compose herself, to finish her words. She blinks, and I step away.
My chest tightens as I look at this woman who is the exact opposite of me in terms of appearance. She’s cute and curvy with pink manicured nails and lash extensions. Every time she blinks, they flutter dramatically.
What the actual hell is happening? My hands tremble as my eyes search hers. Behind me, Clementine and Benny are asking what’s for breakfast.
“I have to feed my kids.”
She nods, wiping her eyes. “Right, of course. It’s just, I saw the story on the news, his photo. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I started driving at five this morning, the moment I woke up.”
I look over my shoulder at Benny and Tiny. “Can you give me a second?” I ask, not wanting a stranger in my house — a stranger who says she’s married to my husband.
Inside, I grab the food from Bethany and pour the kids glasses of chocolate milk. I set muffins and fruit on plates and flip on the television, pulling up Netflix and starting a show for them. “I’ll be on the front steps talking to that lady, Emma. All right?”
“Who is she?” Tiny asks, peeling back the paper lining of the muffin.