Page 34 of Skipping Stones

I just heard about your Gran. I am SO sorry for your loss. Tell me what I can do to help. What do you need?

When she didn’t answer, he tried again.

I’m worried about you. I know we haven’t talked a lot recently. Please let me know you’re OK.

Ten more minutes went by.

Linney? Please answer me.

I don’t think I’ll ever be OK again. Jake’s coming up tomorrow.

You’re alone?! I will ALWAYS be there for you, no matter what. Do you need to talk? Call me if you do.

Thanks, but there are no words. Funeral on Wednesday, I think.

I’ll be there. Love you, Linney.

Derek called his boss and spoke with the head of Calgary Legal Aid. He knew he would be leaving them in a pinch, but this was important.

* * *

Anna and Kirsten leaped into action when they received Derek’s text Within half an hour, they were at Linney’s door and they gathered her up into their arms when she let them in with a tired, sad smile.

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly.

“Where else would we be?” asked Anna. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”

Kirsten held up a container of ice cream and a bag of chips. Comfort food. Linney pushed her glasses up and pointed to the ice cream. Anna got spoons, and they spent the night telling stories about Gran, their spoons dipping into the container until the softening ice cream was all gone. They fell asleep on the couch, and Linney’s friends woke early in the morning only when Jake’s car pulled into the driveway. Linney was still sound asleep.

“Thank you,” he said to both of them gruffly, when they expressed their condolences. Jake looked pale and distraught, no better than his sister. “And thank you for being with Linney last night. I couldn’t get up here any earlier.”

Kirsten spoke for them both. “She’d have done it for us. And Jake? Let us know if there’s anything at all we can do. Your grandmother was so loved in this town. There will be a lot of people who want to do something, anything. Even if you just want to use us to spread information, we’re up for the task.”

Jake smiled for the first time since Linney had called the day before. “Thanks, Kirsten. I think we’ll be alright. But I appreciate the offer. Rachael and the kids will be up tomorrow. Now you two had better get home.”

They left, and he smoothed Linney’s hair and gave her a kiss on the temple. Best to let her sleep a little longer, he thought. Yesterday had been tough for her, and the coming days wouldn’t be any easier.

* * *

It was windy and grey when Derek arrived in Silver Lake. He slipped into an aisle seat at the church beside his mother just as the funeral was beginning. In the front pew was Rachael and with her children—Mrs. McDonnell’s great grandchildren—looking sombre. Jake and Linney walked down the aisle together. Jake was stoic, but his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings for his grandmother. Linney’s eyes were blank behind her glasses. She stood pale and ramrod straight in her black dress, looking like she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Derek managed to grab her hand and squeeze it for just a second as she passed by. He saw just a flicker of recognition, and he was glad she knew he was there.

Despite the weather, it was a lovely funeral, and the church was full. Anna and Danny were there with their girls, and Kirsten sat with them. Jake did the eulogy and only choked up twice. Derek watched Linney closely. She sat with a straight back and never moved. He was worried about her. Several other people from Silver Lake got up and said nice things about her, including one woman representing KnitWorks. Derek’s mother spoke eloquently of her kindness and how she knew her neighbour was in a better place, with her beloved husband and son, which even left him with a lump in his throat.

Derek knew that after the funeral the house would be full of townspeople paying their respects. There would be so many people for Jake and Linney to speak with that he decided not to add to the chaos. When everyone was gone, and the empty hours stretched out endlessly, he would be there for Linney. For now, he went next door to visit with his mother and wait until things got quieter. After all, he had to tell her that her wait for a grandchild might be coming to an end.

* * *

Finally, thought Linney. Finally, it was quiet. She’d made it through the day. There had been so many people to talk to, and after they had gone, the family had spent some time reminiscing together. But now that Rachael had taken the children home and Jake was getting into his car, she was alone.

She stood on the wraparound porch of her grandmother’s house as the storm that had threatened all day made its way across Silver Lake and the white caps on the waves grew bigger. Shivering, she pulled the finely knit grey shawl more tightly around her. It was the exact shade of the angry sky. Gran had made it years ago and Linney could almost hear the clicking of her steel knitting needles. It seemed appropriate, she thought, that the sky was angry. She was too. The lake, usually a source of peace and calm, was anything but that today.

She waved as Jake backed his car out of the driveway and Linney felt the first raindrops whip into her face as she walked around the porch and opened the door. She stepped inside the house, surveying the canapes and empty glasses littered around. She kicked off her high-heeled black shoes and walked silently through the front room in stocking feet, drying the rain from her glasses with the edge of the shawl as she went. The mess could wait.

Linney took the ornate key off the shelf and looked at the arched interior door it belonged to. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the blue door. Slowly, as if each step was more painful than the last, Linney made her way up the circular staircase to the study. As the old family story went, her grandfather had added it onto the cozy little house when their son—Linney’s father—was small. The front half of the rounded room facing the lake was all windows, with a built-in desk and cabinets in front of them. The back was lined with her grandfather’s handmade bookshelves and filled with favourite books. Linney ran her fingers along the spines and pulled one out at random.

Curling up in the familiar battered burnished leather chair that gave her an almost 180-degree view of the lake in front and the woods to one side, Linney opened the book and tried to read. The wind was getting stronger and she could hear tree branches creak and moan as they moved against each other. It was as if they were crying. She shut the book and looked up as the rain came thrashing against the window. It seemed all the elements had come together to mourn as they buried her grandmother today.

Linney wished she could cry. She felt like she had an elephant on her chest. She’d screamed. She’d stomped. She’d railed. But she hadn’t been able to cry.