Wildest of All

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Peter hadn’t owned a suit, so he’d been buried in one of Danny’s. Anne stayed with him in the funeral home for as long as they would allow, and prayed over his body, while trying to resist the disturbing double effect of seeing both her sons lying dead before her.

She felt hollow inside. So many people had been lost over the years, she had barely noticed the loneliness creeping in. Even after her husband Patrick died, Peter and Danny were both such gregarious characters, they papered over the cracks in her existence. She was nearing the end of her seventies, if she wasn’t there already. It was quite possible she’d turned eighty without realising. There had been so many deaths. But surely there could be no future beyond this one.

She banished the thought as soon as it arrived. Life was a gift. She was blessed, even in her darkest hour. She must not forget this. Hadn’t the Almighty himself sacrificed his own Son so she might live? There was a reason the Good Lord had left her so long and taken the others. There was a plan. There had to be.

Jude had taken Sissy outside to wait in the car but left behind the scent of alcohol that had followed her like a cloud over the past few days. Anne tried not to judge, but already it was clear their situation was precarious. She worried for Sissy. Jude was in no state to take care of her. Seventeen was such an important age.

She prayed, and gradually a picture began to emerge, a plan that made sense of everything. She stood up and rested her hand on the chest of her first-born. She leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead, so strange and stiff now his soul had departed. Then she slipped her hand into his inside pocket and took out the letter Sissy had deposited just moments ago. To save her granddaughter, she had to know everything about her granddaughter.