Not Guilty by Patricia MacDonald Read Free Book Online Page A

on a metal folding chair, wearing dark glasses and the same black suit that she had bought in haste at an Ann Arbor dress shop the day after Richard had died. The weather had been much the same on the day of Richard’s funeral, too, she thought as she stared at the bier of her second husband. Cool and windy, with a brilliant blue sky. A perfect day to go for a brisk walk or apple picking. Behind her sunglasses, she closed her red, swollen eyelids and imagined it. A bright orchard, leaves that camouflaged green fruit, and baskets too full and heavy to lift. She and Mark and Dylan, laughing as they bent to their task, and Abby, toddling precariously among the broken apples on the ground . . . a scene that never had, never would, take place.
    “When he was but a child, Mark’s parents were taken from him suddenly,” intoned the elderly priest. “I remember the day they were laid to rest. He kept asking where they were, and when they were coming back. After that, Mark was alone in the world, and often despairing, despite the best efforts of many good people. He was smart, but he was also angry, and he lashed out at the world for a while. Then, with help, he took himself in hand and began to work hard, and he made a great success of his life. But he remained a lonely man. Until that day when he finally met Keely and found what he had been seeking all those years. His very own family to belong to . . .”
    Oh Mark, Keely thought. You were so sure we had all the time in the world. And you made me, who should have known better, believe it, too. She felt somehow that she was being punished for having tried to make a new life. She knew that people had gossiped when she remarried. It was as if she had been disloyal to Richard’s memory by starting over. Even though Richard’s mother, Ingrid, had given her blessing to the match, Keely realized that she had always felt guilty for finding happiness again. But she was young and she had needed love in her life. Isn’t that what God wants us to do? To love one another? How can that be wrong?
    She realized that her thoughts were wandering, and she forced herself-to pay attention to the words of the priest, who was trying to offer comfort and hope.
    “And so, we commit the mortal remains of our brother, Mark, to the ground. We remember that he gave up his life to save the life of his beloved daughter, and we say farewell, hoping and believing that his heavenly Father will welcome him into his many mansions on high. Jesus said, ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for another’ . . .”
    Keely’s tears dripped off of her chin. She was hardly conscious of them anymore. The last few days had been pain, waking and sleeping. She reminded herself of how much worse it would have been if Mark had failed to save their baby girl. Today, when she returned from this bleakest of ceremonies, Abby would be there, unaware of why or how her father had left her and wanting only to be held by her mother. You’ll never know him, Keely thought. But you’ll know how much he loved you, how precious your life was to him. You’ll have that for all your life. You’ll always know that the only reason he left you was to save you.
    At that thought, she could not help but think of her son. On her right, Dylan sat, just as he had at Richard’s funeral. He had wept inconsolably on the day his father was laid to rest. Today, he stared at the ground and avoided the gaze of anyone who tried to speak to him or express sorrow. Of course, he was not wearing the same clothes he had worn to his father’s funeral. His size had nearly doubled in four years. Yesterday, Lucas Weaver had taken Dylan to his favorite men’s shop and purchased a blazer and pants, which he insisted on paying for. Keely studied the closed, scowling expression on her son’s face. His father had chosen to leave him, to escape the pain of living. His love for us was not enough to make him stay, she thought. All grief