Page 104 of A Gathering of Secrets

“I hope you’re all right with my being here. If you’re not, I can take off.”

“I’m okay with it. I just…” She lets the words trail as if she isn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence. “What a terrible … tragedy.”

“I’m sorry about Edna,” I tell her.

Pain flashes across her face. “Thank you.”

For an instant I think she’s going to burst into tears, but she holds on to her composure. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. I mean, that she’s gone. I still can’t believe it.” She looks out across the shop. “I keep thinking she’s going to barrel around the corner, shoes stomping, face stern like always, and she’s going to have some chore or errand for me that I don’t want to do.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. Sad for Neva mostly. She took it hard.”

I glance around the shop. “How is she?”

“Her heart is broken. First Emma and now her mamm.” She shakes her head. “I told her not to come in today. It’s too soon. I caught her crying back in the break room twice now. I don’t think she’s going to be able to stay.”

I nod. “I’d like to offer my condolences. Do you think she’d talk to me?”

Her eyes fill, but she doesn’t let the tears fall. “She doesn’t blame you for what happened, Chief Burkholder. I talked to her earlier, and she’s just … sad and confused. If you want to see her, she’s in the break room.”

“Thank you.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I won’t keep her long.”

I make my way to the rear of the store, where the break room is located. I find Neva sitting at the table, unmoving, staring blankly at the tabletop. She doesn’t look up when I enter. I’m not even sure she heard me. For an instant, I consider turning around and leaving.

Then she raises her head. Her eyes meet mine and widen. Surprise flashes, but it’s overshadowed by the grief I see etched into her every feature. “Chief Burkholder.”

“Hi, Neva.”

She starts to rise. “I didn’t think you’d—”

“Don’t get up,” I tell her. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to … see you. See how you’re doing.”

She lowers herself back into the chair. “I’m okay.”

We both know the words couldn’t be farther from the truth. Her eyes have a dull sheen. Her nose is red from crying. Her lips are dry and chapped.

“I’m sorry about your mamm,” I say quietly.

Bowing her head, she chokes out a sob and begins to cry.

I’m not much of a hugger, but this girl looks so sad, so broken, so utterly lost. I vacillate a moment, then go to her, put my arms around her shoulders, give a brief but heartfelt embrace.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll understand,” I say quietly.

Pulling away slightly, she raises her head, pulls a well-used tissue from her apron pocket, and blots her face. “Don’t go.” She blows her nose. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

I tug out the chair next to her and sit. “I didn’t think you’d be back at work so soon.”

“Everyone thinks I’m nuts.” She chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I probably am. But I couldn’t stay away. Mamm loved this place so much. I know it sounds weird, but I feel closer to her here. I mean, everything you see on the shelves? Chances are, she put it there. She touched it with her own hands. The candles. The quilts. The afghans.”

“Sometimes work is good therapy,” I tell her. “And it helps to be around people who love you.”

“I don’t know how I’d have gotten through the last few days without Ina and Viola. They’ve been so good. Even the customers have been sweet.”

I take a moment to get my words in order and say what I’ve wanted to say for days now. “I know what happened is painful and confusing for you and your family. I want you know … if you have questions or want to talk about it, I’m here for you. If you prefer not to talk about it, that’s okay, too.”

She gives me a grateful look, but there’s caution in her eyes, as well, right next to the pain and every bit as large. “I can’t believe the things people are saying about her. The things I’ve read in the newspaper.”