Chapter 5: Four-Twelve

Peyton took my hands before I could pull them back.

Her fingers were cold and damp.

Her nails were pale pink, the shade she had worn when she tapped my application.

"I haven't slept," she said. "I keep thinking about Cara. She was so young."

"Let go, Peyton."

"I should have walked that form into his office myself. I know that. I'll carry it for the rest of my life."

Tears ran down her face and she did not wipe them.

Slade stood a step behind her with his hand half raised.

He wanted to put it on her shoulder, and he looked unsure he was allowed.

The two elders had come down off the gravel to watch.

One of them looked sad, and the other looked at his shoes.

"I'm going to make this right," Peyton said. "Whatever the center is owed, whatever the funeral cost. I'll cover it from my own savings."

"You'll cover it?"

"Of course."

"From your savings."

"Nessa, please."

She squeezed my hands harder.

"All I can think about is her lying there alone at four in the morning. Four-twelve. The nurse told me she was by herself."

I stopped pulling.

The wind moved through the flowers and nobody spoke.

"What time did you say?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The time Cara died."

Peyton blinked at me, wet and bewildered.

"Four in the morning. Isn't that what Joanie said?"

"Joanie texted me three times. None of them had a time in it."

"I must have heard it from someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't remember, Nessa, I've been out of my mind."

"Slade," I said, without taking my eyes off her. "Did you tell her the time?"

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