Joanne’s gaze shifted to the calendar stuck to the side of the refrigerator next to the curled, yellowed page of crayon scribbles. Tears pressed against her eyes again, and she tugged her focus from her three-year-old daughter’s drawing to the November dates. They’d died nearly three years ago today.
Drawing back her shoulders, Joanne hoisted herself from the chair, suddenly feeling tired, but thoughts of Benjamin returned and so did a smile. She hurried into her bedroom and pulled off her business suit, then rummaged through her closet and slipped on a skirt and sweater. She replaced her pumps with casual slip-ons, and her knotted calves eased as she settled into the soft suede shoes.
Joanne moved to the vanity and eyed her once-neat hair. She pulled out the clasps and brushed the long strands, ready to capture the wispy ends, but taking another look, she let it fall around her shoulders. Thinking of her old friend, she felt younger than she had in years.
As she turned toward the door, Joanne’s gaze fell on a small photo on her dresser of Mandy playing in a pile of autumn leaves. She’d taken the picture a month before her daughter’s death. Joanne picked up the photo and studied it. She could see Greg’s rake at the edge of the picture. Now she wished she’d stepped back to capture them both, but in those days, she and Greg only had eyes for Mandy. Joanne’s heart felt heavy again as she set the frame on the dresser top and left the room.
While she searched for her handbag, the doorbell rang. When Joanne opened the door she caught her breath. “Benjamin.” A rush of admiration washed over her—his dark wavy hair and chocolate-brown eyes, his familiar easy smile. “You look wonderful.”
His gaze drifted over her as he grinned. “You look beautiful as always.” He grasped her shoulders and pressed his wind-cooled lips against her cheek. “Ready?”
“I am,” she said, lifting a hand to capture his chin. “It’s so good to see you.”
She opened the closet and pulled out her jacket. Benjamin held it while she pushed her arms into the sleeves, then shrugged it on. She tossed her purse over her shoulder and checked the door lock before pulling the door closed.
Benjamin clasped her elbow as she moved down the snowy steps to the sidewalk. He opened the passenger door for Joanne, then rounded the car to the driver side. “What are you in the mood for? Italian? Mexican? American?”
“I’m in the mood to visit,” she said, patting his arm. “Whatever you’d like is fine.”
“Let’s try Jimmy’s,” he said, backing out of the driveway. “They have fish and Black Angus. Even pasta if you prefer it.”
As he drove through Grosse Pointe, they caught up on the past couple of years.
“Are you still at Solutions, Incorporated?”
“What else?” She smiled, realizing her job had become her life. “I just got a promotion. I’m heading the think tank. It’s exciting, and I have my own office with a window.”
“Good for you. And a window—now that’s really something.” He paused for a moment and his smile faded. “Are you seeing anyone?”
The question surprised her. “You mean dating?”
He nodded.
“No. I’m not ready for that.”
“It’s been three years. I thought maybe…”
“No, I—” Dating hadn’t entered her mind. Ever.
The conversation lulled. Joanne didn’t mention the disturbing sensations she’d been feeling and Benjamin didn’t ask why she’d sounded stressed on the phone. She knew he would, sometime before the evening ended, but she was willing to wait.
They’d settled at a table and made their selections from the menu before Benjamin slid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “So what’s all this about?”
For a moment she didn’t understand his question, but when she studied his face, she knew. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Give me a try,” he said, releasing her hand to pick up his water glass.
Joanne lowered her head. She formed the words in her mind though they made little sense. “I hear Mandy’s voice calling to me.”
A frown pulled at his mouth and his eyes darkened. “I’m so sorry, Joanne. I’d hoped—”
“I know,” she said. “I have been doing well until the past couple of weeks.” Her pulse skipped. “Greg and Mandy have been gone for three years…almost to the day.”
He slid his hand over hers again comfortingly. “I know. It’s tomorrow. It hit me this morning.”
A feeling of desperation hit her. “Sometimes I’m drowned by the loss, Benjamin. I awake disbelieving, praying it was only a bad dream, but the bed is empty beside me, no dent in the pillow. Mandy’s room is silent, and I know it’s true.” She glanced at the patrons around her, realizing her volume had risen.
She released a sigh. “This isn’t the place to talk about that, but I have no one really who’d understand.” She looked so deeply into his eyes that she felt lost in them. “Except you. They were part of your life, too.”
He wrapped his fingers around her hand and gave it a squeeze. The warmth filled her with memories, and she realized how much she’d missed his friendship. Benjamin had been such a good and faithful friend, always there when she or Greg needed him, and he had doted on Mandy.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s wonderful that you’re back in Detroit.” She tried to smile. “I’m praying the weird feelings go away. I should be over my grief by now.”
“Don’t expect so much of yourself,” Benjamin said, still holding her hand. “You lost a husband and child in the blink of an eye, and you’ve never had…” He paused as if not knowing what to say.
“Never had closure,” she said, knowing that’s what he meant. “I buried a husband and a tiny empty casket holding some of Mandy’s toys. That was all.” She felt tears surfacing on her lashes, and Joanne knew she had to stop. “If they’d found her body—if only they’d found her, at least I’d believe it happened.”
“I know. I wish I could make it better for you.”
He looked as desperate as she felt, and Joanne’s good sense and social graces returned. This was no time or place to talk about something so heart wrenching. She pulled herself together and drew in a deep breath.
“So how was Seattle?” she asked.
“Wet. Foggy.”
She grinned, and the experience felt wonderful—though it faded too quickly. “I didn’t realize you would be gone so long.” She hesitated and then added, “And with so few visits.”
His expression changed, and she sensed he was avoiding something he wanted to say. “You knew the firm opened a branch there. It took time. I had an opportunity to return earlier, but I decided to stick it out and finish the project.”
“I see,” she said, confused by the look on his face.
After the waiter arrived with their food, Joanne only shifted the pasta around on her plate, curious about Benjamin. He focused on his steak. She had many things to ask him—for one, why he’d kept such a low profile after he moved to Seattle. After attending the funeral, he’d called a couple of times, but as time passed, she rarely heard from him other than an occasional brief call or an e-mail at her office. He’d been Greg’s friend, a fellow attorney, but Joanne had always considered him her friend, too.