Page 79 of The Summer We Fell

When we arrive at the hospital, we’re told it’s family only, so Danny goes back to his dad and I sit in the waiting room with Grady, the two of us uttering not a single word to each other. The guilt eats at me: I shouldn’t have left Donna to care for the pastor by herself. And how the hell am I going to leave in a week? When the pastor gets home, he’s going to need so much more help than he did, and Grady will be gunning for his job with all he’s got.

And just when I think I can’t take it anymore—the silence, my guilt—the doors slide open and Luke walks in.

My shoulders sag in relief as our gazes meet. I assumed he drove back to school after they cleaned up the house this morning, and I shouldn’t want him here now but, oh my God, I do.

We don’t discuss what is going to happen to our plan because it isn’t the time. He doesn’t hold my hand. But his arm is beside mine and he’s here and that’s enough.

Grady has returned to his aunt’s house to shower when Danny and Donna emerge, gray-faced, to go to the cafeteria during the nurses’ shift change.

Donna hugs us both. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, and I try not to ask all the questions that would absolve my guilt: Was she there when it happened? How much did she have on her plate because I left?

We sit together, picking at rubbery burgers and pieces of sweet potato pie.

And we haven’t finished half of it before Donna gets a call telling her the pastor is gone.

* * *

I’ve only seen Danny cry once before, but this is different. He becomes his grief, holding on to me like he’d drown if I removed his arms. So I don’t. He falls asleep like that, beside me on the couch, and even when my whole body hurts from his weight, I let him stay.

Donna comes in to cover us with a blanket. “I’m so glad he has you,” she says.

Luke just looks at me. He’s exhausted, despondent. Any plans we made…they won’t be happening soon.

The pastor’s buried on Wednesday. That it’s done so quickly only makes the shock of it harder to absorb. How does a person eat his dinner and read his wife an article in the paper on Saturday night, and become a distant thing you can’t even touch, far beneath the grass, by Wednesday at lunch?

Afterward, people pour through Donna’s house, offering their condolences. I take all the dishes they bring, and Luke helps me stack them in the freezer and rearrange chairs and offer people something to drink. They smile at him, but it feels different when they look at me. I was the orphan they wanted to warn the pastor about, wasn’t I? I was the girl who was going to do nothing but cause problems and look at that…I left Donna to care for the pastor alone when he was sick, and he died. They think it was selfish that I went on a trip I didn’t want to go on in the first place.

I have no idea what all this means for Donna. The church isn’t going to continue paying for them to rent this house, and I know she doesn’t have much saved. Danny’s already said he’s not finishing the semester, and she was too drained and upset to argue.

But if they have to move, maybe they won’t even have room for me. Would it be acceptable for me to leave then? Or do I still need to stay by their sides, somehow, until they’ve recovered from this newest tragedy? I’m alone in the kitchen, pondering all of this, when Grady appears.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Juliet,” he says. He has two tiny white spots on either side of his nose, his thin lips pressed tight.

He’s blocking my path, and all that stands between us is the big casserole in my arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They’re moving me,” he says. “To Oakland. This church should have been mine, and instead they want me to keep assisting someone.”

“How exactly would that be my fault, Grady? Do I look like I carry a lot of sway with the church?”

“You had the pastor write them. You convinced him to write them and tell them I’m not ready. They told me he’d said as much.”

“I can’t imagine what makes you think I had any sway with the pastor either.” I step past him toward the counter. “Maybe he just thought you weren’t mature enough yet. Or maybe he knew you were the kind of person who’d confront someone after a funeral.”

He grabs my arm and the casserole crashes at my feet, splattering me in sauce and noodles and shattered glass.

“What the—” I begin, but before I can finish, Luke has crossed the kitchen and grabbed Grady by the lapels.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, grabbing her like that?” he demands, shaking Grady hard. “I ever see you lay a finger on her again and you won’t live to tell the tale.”

The crash of the dish has drawn a crowd to the kitchen, but it’s Luke grabbing Grady that they’ve stayed for. And Danny is among them.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, gently scolding all of us, “but this isn’t the place for it.”

Luke’s jaw grinds as he nods at my feet. “It splattered all over you. Go change. I’ll clean this up.”

Maybe it’s just that I know how he feels, but it seems like Luke used to be better at hiding things than he is now. People are probably wondering if his concern is misplaced.

Grady, glaring at me as he walks away, seems certain of it.