Chapter 15: His Mother

"It's true," I said.

My mother set the phone face down on the counter. She did it gently.

"All of it?"

"I was the girl on the bench. I streamed from it, and I joked about someone coming to get me."

"Sit down, baby."

"I was seventeen, Mom. A teacher gave me a ride. My phone died. I didn't know until yesterday."

I told her the rest standing up, in the kitchen, with my wet coat still on.

I told her about Bowen's phone and the message I never sent in time. I did not tell her about the account.

I left that out because it was Drake's to tell.

My mother listened with both hands flat on the counter.

When I finished, she crossed the kitchen in three steps and took my face in her hands.

"You were a child on a cold bench," she said. "You said something a child says."

"A boy died."

"A boy died because the road was icy, and because he loved somebody enough to drive on it."

"That's a terrible thing. It is not a crime."

"Mom."

"I'm not saying it to be kind. I'm saying it because it's true."

Somebody knocked at the kitchen door.

We both turned.

Through the glass I saw a small woman in a camel coat, holding a pie dish in both hands.

My mother opened the door.

Drake's mother stood on our back step in the rain with her hair coming loose.

She had driven herself. Hers was the only car at the curb.

"I'm sorry to come unannounced," she said. "This is yours."

She held out the dish. It was the one I had carried the pie in.

My mother did not take it right away.

"Your husband signed my termination letter," she said.

"I know." Her voice shook and held. "I read it Friday. I did not know until then."

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