Bianca frowned. “She asked where people go.”
“And you gave her the county coroner’s answer.”
“It was accurate.”
“Accuracy isn’t always the goal, especially when you’re talking to a younger sibling. Okay?”
Bianca folded her arms, her lips twisting into a pout.
CJ turned to Billie before she could ask which part of Mom had gone where. “When people die, their spirit goes to a beautiful place where nothing hurts, and nobody is lonely, and nobody has bedtime unless they want one.”
Billie’s eyes brightened. “No bedtime?”
“No bedtime.”
“Unverifiable,” Bianca muttered under her breath.
CJ ignored her. “And there are all the snacks you want.”
“What snacks?”
“It’s different for everybody. Mom probably has those almond croissants from the bakery downtown.”
The smallest sound escaped me before I could stop it.
CJ looked over. “She liked those, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, my throat tight. “She did.”
Jade used to buy those croissants on Saturday mornings, pretend they were for all of us, and then eat half the box in the car before she got home. I’d caught crumbs on her coat once, and she’d acted deeply offended when I accused her of sneaking pastries without me.
Billie tugged my hand. “How do we get to the place with no bedtime?”
CJ sat down cross-legged, warming to the subject. “There’s a big bus station in the sky.”
Bianca turned her head toward him and made a grumbling sound in her throat. “That’s not supported by any major scientific or theological framework.”
Billie clambered onto her brother’s back. “Are there tickets?”
“Yes, but you don’t need money.”
“What do you need?”
CJ glanced toward the headstone, then looked at Billie over his shoulder. His face changed like it did when he was about to lie, but this time, the lie wasn’t designed to get him out of trouble.
“You just need someone waiting for you on the other side,” he said. “Then they tell the driver you belong with them.”
Billie looked at Jade’s name carved into stone. “So Mommy will tell the driver?”
“Definitely.”
“What if she forgets me?”
The question came out with no tears, but it slammed into me so hard that I had to lower myself onto the grass before my knees gave out.
“She won’t forget you,” I said.
Billie looked at me. “But I was a baby.”
