Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1)

soft weight and rocked while needles of numbness skittered from my fingertips to my armpit and back again.
After what seemed like hours, Irene opened the door and peeked in. “Oh, honey.” She came into the room and gathered Amy into her arms. “Why didn’t you holler?”
I wiggled my fingers and winced in relief. “I didn’t want to wake her.”
“You sweet thing.” Irene settled Amy into her toddler bed then turned up the ceiling fan before leading me out the door and closing it softly behind us.
And there was Ben, standing in the hallway staring at a framed photo of Melody.
He looked... beaten. Defeated. Past enduring anything else. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he turned and wrapped his arms around me.
It was the first time we had touched like this in a dozen years.
*
Meredith and some of the other ballet moms had set up a phone tree and canceled all my classes after the wreck and through the week of Mel’s funeral. They’d offered to cancel through the whole month of September, but I couldn’t afford to lose a month’s tuition. I had worked out the math. Every penny I didn’t need for survival, I had to save to get through the summer months when I’d have no income.
My first day back the next Monday was tough. At the end of the day, I felt limp, physically and emotionally drained. Even though I had worn a sling, my left arm throbbed, and the bruised, swollen area was hot to the touch. I’d have to ice it when I got home.
Maryann and Amy hadn’t come to their ballet classes. I hadn’t expected it, but I decided to give Ben a call from the studio phone to see how they were doing.
No answer.
I called Melody’s mother.
“The kids are staying with us,” Lois said, a shade of exasperation in her voice. “Ben has taken time off work, but he isn’t up to caring for himself, much less his children.”
The guilt that lived in my gut rose up to choke me. “I’m so sorry, Lois.” Tears stung the back of my nose as I struggled once again with the beast that wouldn’t die. Its sharp scales scraped against my insides. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
A mean, small voice whispered in my brain. Yes, Casey. Offer to help. You can help and help and help, and soon enough, Ben will be yours. But you’ll be his second choice. You’ll always be his second choice. I didn’t want Ben to be mine by default.
“Thank you so much for asking, honey. I could use a little help with some of the driving. Picking the kids up from school and such—I mean, whenever we can’t do it. It would be great if we could add you to the kids’ emergency contact lists at school. We have an extra car seat for Amy that you can keep in your car.”
“Sure. That’ll be fine.”
Lois sighed, a sound of exhaustion and relief. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No thanks necessary, Lois.”
“Let me make you lunch tomorrow?”
“That’s really not necessary.” The last thing I wanted was be alone with Lois and Herb and Melody’s ghost. I still hadn’t told anyone about Mel’s last moments, that she had died in unimaginable pain, drowning in her own blood, terrified for her life, worried for her children, begging me for help I couldn’t give. No one had mentioned it, but I knew they all wondered whether Melody had suffered. No one had asked—yet—but I had a sneaking suspicion Lois had conjured up this lunch idea for exactly that purpose.
“I insist, honey. It’s the least I can do. Come at twelve-thirty.”
“Lois, really—”
“You could pick Amy up at preschool on your way. I’ll remind Ben to leave that extra car seat at the daycare. Lunch will be on the table when you get here.”
Well, hell. “Okay, Lois. I’ll pick Amy up tomorrow and have lunch with y’all.” I hung up, wondering why I’d called in the first place.
Well, I knew why.
Apparently, I was just plain stupid.
On the walk home, Lizzie seemed to sense my mood, and reflected it in her own posture as she slumped along beside me. She pushed her nose into my hand, and I patted her head, thankful for her quiet company. “Such a good dog.”
She raised her face, her eyes shining with adoration.
I gazed at the cool, starry sky, instinctively turning toward the river instead of heading straight home. Maybe the unconscious decision was a good one. I was tired in soul as well as body, and the river offered its own comfort.
I rolled my aching shoulders and tilted my head side to side, trying to relax my knotted muscles. We walked past the town square, where the halyard banged rhythmically against the flagpole in the evening breeze. It had been clanking like that for years, a steady clink-clink-clink that never ended, even as people lived and died, and those left behind picked up the pieces and went on. The flag was taken down every evening and put up again each morning. But the halyard kept up its relentless chant, no matter what happened.
What would I tell Lois tomorrow when she asked me about Melody’s last moments? Part of me wanted to lie, to say Mel’s death had been easy. But I knew that if I told the lie once, I’d have to keep telling it to everyone, forever.
I didn’t know if I had the strength to keep the truth to myself without it eating me up from the inside. “Help me,” I whispered out loud, but I didn’t expect an answer. I felt as if a veil separated earth from heaven. I was pretty sure God was watching but not planning to get involved.
The thick, earthy smell of the river rolled toward us on the wind, and Lizzie’s nose lifted to sniff the air. I breathed in the scent of freshly mowed grass, tannin-rich water and the faint, elusive scent of peace.
Stepping off the paved road