Page 6 of In Her Memory

Frank cleared his throat gently. “Margaret,” he said, using the careful tone he reserved for delicate situations, “maybe this would be a good time to call Zeke. Having support during difficult moments—that’s what he’s there for.”

Mom’s spine stiffened at the mention of her AA sponsor, who also owned the local liquor store. “You think I need a babysitter? You think I’m going to fall apart and reach for a bottle?”

“That’s not what Frank meant,” Jenna said. “But this is a lot to deal with. Piper coming back, then disappearing again. Now hearing about Dad... It would shake anyone.”

For a moment, defiance flashed in her mother’s eyes, that old stubborn pride that had both carried her through grief and nearly drowned her in it. Then, just as quickly, her expression softened.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “Both of you.” She brushed a hand across her eyes. “I’ll call him. But... I need a little time first. Just to be alone with all this.”

She rose from her chair and moved toward the hallway, pausing at the threshold. “I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I just need to sit with these feelings without anyone watching me like I’m a bomb about to go off.”

“Take whatever time you need, Mom.”

Before she left the kitchen, Mom asked one more question. “In your dream … did Piper …?”

Jenna understood what she was trying to ask. She wanted to know whether Piper had appeared to her, like her father. It mattered, because only dead people came to her in dreams.

“No,” Jenna said. “I’ve never seen Piper in one of my lucid dreams.”

“She’s still alive, then,” Mom said. “Thank God for that.”

They watched her disappear down the hall, heard the soft click of her bedroom door closing moments later.

Frank let out a long breath. “You think she’ll be okay?”

Jenna sank back into her chair. “I don’t know. She’s been doing so well. She’s been sober since June. But this...” She gestured vaguely at the empty chair where Piper had sat the night before.

“This would test anyone’s resolve,” Frank finished for her.

“I should talk to Zeke myself,” Jenna said. “Give him a heads-up about what’s going on.”

Frank agreed. “Good idea. He’s been good for her.”

“It’s more than that.” Jenna ran a hand through her short chestnut hair. “Zeke saved her life when he refused to sell her that bottle. He talked her into the meetings, which he attends himself. She hasn’t had a drink since then, thanks to Zeke and their meetings.”

“Sometimes the person who holds you accountable is exactly who you need,” Frank said. His gray eyes carried the experience of decades watching people at their best and worst. “Having him check in on her regularly, knowing he’d recognize a backslide instantly—that was her way of building in consequences.”

“And now they’re friends. Maybe more than friends, though they’re both being careful about that.” Jenna shook her head slightly. “Life gets complicated in the strangest ways.”

Frank’s reply was interrupted by Jenna’s phone buzzing on the table. The screen lit up with Jake’s name.

“I should take this,” she said, tapping the speaker button. “Hey, Jake. You’re on speaker and Frank is here with me.”

“Morning, Sheriff.” His voice filled the kitchen, professional but with the underlying warmth she’d grown accustomed to. “Sorry to bother you so early, but I just got a call that you should know about.”

“What’s happened?” Jenna caught Frank’s attentive gaze across the table.

“A resident at Calloway House died last night. Donna Marsh. Sixty-two. Apparently fell from a stepladder in her unit.”

“Donna Marsh,” she repeated. The name wasn’t immediately familiar to her.

“Yeah. I’m heading over there now. The super found her just a little while ago. The coroner has been called, but it looks like a simple accident. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Jake, I...” Jenna hesitated. “Piper’s gone.”

The silence on the other end lasted several seconds. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“She left sometime during the night. Took a few things with her.”