Page 101 of Every Almost

"I will, Charlie."

Charlie let that settle in her heart as she looked into this woman's eyes, the woman who taught her she didn't have to settle for what someone else told her she was. She pulled Helen's hand back and kissed it, pressing her forehead there for a long moment. Then she stood.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Charlie. More than anything." Charlie smiled and nodded. She looked over at Katie, then, and saw she was crying, too. She smiled at her sister.

"I'll give you two a minute," Charlie said, her voice barely holding. Katie stared up at her, and something passed between them, an understanding that didn't need words. Katie was always closer to Helen, the way Charlie was closer to Frank. Charlie didn't have the opportunity to say goodbye to Frank. She wasn't going to be the reason Katie didn't get her chance. This was Katie's time.

Charlie stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, pressing the back of her head to the wood, and listened. She could hear the muffled sound of both their voices through the door, low and steady, saying things that were just for Helen and just for Katie. Then, after a while, silence.

A few minutes passed. The house was so quiet Charlie could hear the clock in the hallway.

Then she heard Katie crying. Not the controlled kind. The kind that comes when something has changed and can't be changed back.

Charlie turned around and opened the door.

Katie was lying across Helen's frame, her arms wrapped around her, her face buried against Helen's shoulder. Helen's eyes were closed. Her face was peaceful. And she was smiling.

"She's gone," Katie whispered without lifting her head.

Tears fell down Charlie's cheeks as she crossed the room and pulled her sister into her arms. Katie held on, and Charlie held on, and the two of them looked down at the most extraordinary woman they had ever known.

There was so much to do. Phone calls to make and arrangements to handle and a life to wrap up in paperwork and deadlines and nonsense that didn't matter in this moment.

Right now, was for them. For Charlie and her sister and their mom, and even Frank, too.

So, they did what they always did.

Theystayed.

Helen passedon the Thursday after Thanksgiving with the curtains open and her girls beside her. She went the way Frank had gone, quietly, without fuss, as though leaving the world was just another thing to be handled with grace.

Charlie made the calls. Katie handled the arrangements. They moved through the days after Helen's death together, in tandem, two people who had practiced grief before and knew the choreography.

The funeral was small with a few neighbors and the pastor. Helen had wanted it that way. The hospice nurse was also there, who had loved Helen in the way people love someone they only knew at the end but can tell was extraordinary before.

Charlie did not speak at the funeral. Katie did, and it was beautiful.

Then Charlie sat in the first row with Katie and held the brown box of letters in her lap. She kept her hand on Katie's the entire time.

After the service, they went back to Helen's house and sat at the yellow table for the last time.

"I don't want to think about this but, soon, I'm going to need to go back," Charlie said.

Katie nodded. "I know."

"The house, the estate; there's just so much to handle."

"I know," Katie said again. "I'll stay."

Charlie looked at her. "Kit, you've already been gone long. I know how much your program means to you, your research. Maybe we could hire?—"

"I talked to my advisor last week," Katie said. "The day before Mom passed. I asked to take a leave of absence for the spring semester. I told them my Mom was dying, and my advisor said that it was not going to be a problem. UCLA approved it yesterday. My position in my cohort will be there when I go back, and my research will be there, too."

Charlie stared at her sister, twenty-three years old and already handling things Charlie hadn't thought of yet. "You planned this?"

"I planned this," Katie said. "Someone has to take care of things here. And you have a new job... yourdreamjob. You can't lose that, Charlie. Especially not after what Helen said to you before she died." Katie's eyes were steady, and Charlie knew the truth in her words. "Let me do this, Charlie. I know I can."