“I’m hoping to get another chance with Hal, now that he’ll be closer to home. And I suppose motherhood is a work in progress. Oh, dear. That sounds like a sampler, doesn’t it?”
“I’d put it up in my kitchen.” Joyce laughed and put her arm around Kathleen’s shoulder.
“Failure, success. It’s moment by moment.” Kathleen looked at the sky. “This is a beautiful moment. I feel like we’re walking right through the clouds in these shadows.”
Joyce turned to admire Kathleen’s profile. “My turn to ask you something,” she said softly. “What will you do on August eighth?”
“Oh.” Kathleen took a quick breath at the turn in the conversation. “Nothing, really. We go to the cemetery and light the anniversary candle on the fourteenth.”
“Do you think that Hal’s anger has something to do with Danny?”
Kathleen stopped and turned to Joyce.
“I’m sorry,” Joyce said. “It was just a thought.”
“But you’re right,” Kathleen said, a little breathless. “That’s it. And of course, he has every right to be.”
“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Kathleen. What are you blaming yourself for?”
“I wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was in the house when it happened, when the car . . . The phone rang, and I went in the house to get it. That’s when it happened.
“People used to say to me, ‘How horrible to see your child struck by a car.’ And I never corrected them. But Hal knew that I didn’t see it at all. Only Hal saw it.”
“And you think he’s angry at you because of that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kathleen said, suddenly unsure of that theory. “I really don’t.”
“Couldn’t you ask him?”
“I could. I mean, it’s possible to ask. I just don’t know if I have the nerve. We never talk about Danny.”
“Never? In all these years?”
“It was too painful. Too painful to bring it up.”
“For whom?”
“For Buddy. He couldn’t even bear to hear Danny’s name, so I didn’t . . .”
“And with Hal?”
Kathleen shook her head.
Joyce took Kathleen’s arm and they walked quietly back to the footbridge. Turning for a last look at the beach, Kathleen said, “Look at that,” pointing at the sky. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such perfect clouds.”
Joyce turned to Kathleen. “You’re healthy, Kathleen, aren’t you?” she half-asked, half-challenged. “You don’t have cancer an
ymore, right?”
“I suppose so. I mean, there’s no medical evidence that there’s any left, and the radiation is supposed to make sure of that. But, it’s still with me. When I go to sleep at night and when I get up in the morning. I try to tell myself how lucky I am, that it was only DCIS, that it didn’t spread. But it’s always there.”
“Oh, Kathleen,” Joyce said, her voice full of frustration and good wishes. “I want to be able to make it all better for you.
“I love you, you know.”