know and love." Her lips curved automatically. "That's a good girl. Now
don't forget to mention the benefit to any reporters," he instructed as
they walked downstairs. "Make sure you tell them how committed I am to
raising money to research a cure for this horrible disease."
"I will, Drew. I won't forget." She was terrified her knees would
buckle. Maybe it was best if she didn't go. Drew had told her again
and again how helpless she was without him. "Drew, I-" But he was
opening the door, and Johnno was standing there.
"Hello, baby." He put his arms around her, as much to comfort as for
comfort. "I'm so glad you're going."
"Yes." She looked dully over his shoulder at Drew's face. "I want to
go."
She fought demons during the flight. He was going to come after
her. He had found out she'd taken the fifteen dollars and would come to
punish her. He'd read her mind. He knew she wasn't going back.
So great was her fear that she clung to Johnno's arm as they deplaned
and searched the crowd at the gate for Drew. She was sweating by the
time they reached the limo, and shaking, and struggling just to breathe.
"Emma, are you sick?"
"No." She moistened her dry lips. There was a man by the curb, lean,
blond. What was left of her color drained. But he turned and it wasn't
Drew. "I'm just upset. Can lan I have a cigarette?"
Drew wouldn't let her smoke. He'd dislocated her finger the last time
he'd caught her. But he wasn't here now, she reminded herself as she
pulled on the cigarette. She was alone in the limo with Johnno.
"Maybe you shouldn't have come. I had no idea it would upset you this
badly." He was dealing with his own grief, great, stunning waves of it,
and could only wrap an arm around her shoulders.
"I'll be all right," she told him. Then repeated the words over and
over in her head like a prayer.
She hardly noticed the service-what words were said, what tears were
shed in the warm, moist heat of noontime. In her heart she hoped Luke
would forgive her for caring so little that he was being mourned. She
felt dead herself, emotionally dead.
As people walked away from the quiet gravesite, away from the white and
pink marble stones and lush flowers, she wondered if she would have the
strength to follow through.
"Johnno." Marianne stopped him, a gentle hand on his arm. Then instead
of condolences, she kissed him. "I wish he could have taught me to
cook," she said, and made Johnno smile.
"You were his only complete failure." He turned to Emma. "The driver
will take you back to the airport. I need to go over to Luke's
apartment. Like care of a few things." He ran a finger down her cheek.
"You'll be all right?"
"Yes."
"I didn't expect to see you here." Though she hated herself, Marianne
couldn't make her tone friendly.
"I ... wanted to come."
"Really?" Marianne opened her purse and tossed a balled-up tissue
inside. Her anger with Emma was like that, she thought. Balled up and