“You had enough to worry about.” She squirmed back into the warm body behind her. The biggest advantage of having her cast shortened was that she could snuggle up as close as she wanted to Ronnie. “She’s not that bad.”


“That’s because she’s not your mother.”


“True.”


“It’s a good thing too.” The hand that had been squeezing Rose’s shoulder, moved down to her waist.


“Why is that?”


“Because,” Ronnie answered as she flipped the smaller woman onto her back and put her hands on either side of the golden head of hair. She relaxed her shoulders, bringing their lips so close that their breath mingled. “That would make you my sister and I guarantee there are times when my thoughts of you are far from sisterly.” Even in the dim moonlight Rose could see the roguish grin before it was replaced with a more serious face. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me today. You made me feel…well…very special.”


“With everything you mean to me, how could I do anything less?” She reached up and caressed the chiseled face above her. “And you are special. I know it’s going to be hard dealing with your family for the next few days but I’ll be right there to help you through it. Come on now, you’re tired, I’m tired, and tomorrow is going to be another long day. Enough talk for tonight.” Rose put her hand on Ronnie’s shoulder and pulled, forcing the taller woman to lie down against her.

“That’s better.”


“Rose?”


“Mm?”


“Can I stay like this…in your arms?” The woman who usually took charge sounded almost like a scared child with her request. As hard as it was for Rose to hear Ronnie in such pain, it filled her heart to know that it was she the older woman turned to for comfort. “Always,” she whispered, tightening her hold.


“I can’t believe he’s gone.” There was a long silence. “I know things have been hard between us lately but that’s not what I see when I think of him.”


“What do you see, Ronnie?” she whispered, her hand moving to stroke the long hair. “Tell me about the Tommy you grew up with, the one you loved.”


“He was the cutest little boy.” Rose felt the body against hers relax as happy memories surfaced.

“We were close when he was little. Whatever I was doing, he wanted to do. He was my shadow.” A tear fell and Ronnie swallowed hard.


“Hey, will you do something for me?”


A nod. “Anything.”


“Think back to a happy time, just you and Tommy. Close your eyes and picture it in your head.” She waited a few seconds. “Are you seeing it? Now, tell me about it. Is it summer or winter?”


“Summer.”


“Inside or out?”


“Out. We’re at the family camp.”


“What are you two doing?”


“Fishing.” Rose felt Ronnie smile against her chest. “It was a perfect day. We were on the dock, just the two of us.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know where everyone else was.”


“Don’t worry about them,” the young woman cooed, continuing her gentle stroking of the dark tresses. “You were fishing with Tommy. Did you catch a fish?”


“I didn’t but he did.” She relaxed against Rose again. “Nice foot long bass. Fought like the devil too.”


“Close your eyes. Now think about that day and how much fun you and Tommy had together. That’s right…” Rose closed her own eyes and let the deep and even breathing near her ear lull her into the same peaceful sleep.



* * *

Rose was a constant source of support for Ronnie. The autopsy report had come back with unpleasant news. A variety of illegal drugs were found in Tommy’s system. The Cartwrights had hoped to keep the information private, but they were a name in Albany and while the morning news reported that one of the Cartwrights had died in a freak accident, the evening news was not as kind. One station, finding the perfect excuse to reuse old footage, hooked the news of Tommy’s autopsy with a report on drugs in Corporate America. It produced, much to the family’s dismay, a gaggle of news reporters around Ronnie’s home, refusing to accept her short statement that the family was in mourning and had no comment on the autopsy findings. Before the day was out, they received word that the driver of the dump truck had filed a suit against Tommy’s estate. Beatrice declared the autopsy nothing less than an “exaggerated fabrication” and the truck driver “a greedy opportunist” trying to take advantage of an unfortunate accident. Rose listened to the remarks and nodded often, doing her part to make things easier on Ronnie.


By the day of the funeral, however, the executive’s patience and tolerance were both in short supply. The past few days had piled frustration upon frustration on her and the family seemed blissfully ignorant of the strain they were putting on her. Not only did they gather at her house to mourn, they gathered to visit with each other, allowing Ronnie no privacy or peace. Despite Rose’s best efforts, Beatrice still managed to slip past and grill her daughter about every detail of the service. There was bickering from the littlest thing, such as who rode in which limousine, to who would be the pallbearers, even to which plot in the family section he should be buried in. Ronnie kept her anger inside herself, releasing it only after everyone had gone. Then, her punching bag would be the recipient. Only when she was both physically and emotionally exhausted would she curl into bed and seek the comfort of Rose’s arms. The role reversal felt odd yet at the same time comforting to Ronnie. In the smaller woman’s embrace she was able to let the stress go and find peace. It reinforced her inner strength, allowing her to face the challenges of the recent events.


“Maria will be here in about an hour or so to pick you up.” Ronnie zipped up her skirt and reached for the belt. “She’ll be coming back here instead of going to the graveside service so someone will be here when the people start arriving.” She buckled the belt and pulled on the blazer. “There. I believe I’m ready now.” She put a small black hat on over her pinned hair.


“I wish I could be there with you,” Rose said earnestly.


“I know, Hon.” She cupped the younger woman’s chin. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few days.”


“I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few months,” Rose countered.


“You know if I had my way you’d be right up there next to me.”


“It’s better if I stay in the back with Maria. It will be easier to get in and out with my crutches.”


“Oh, let me help you with your sneaker before I go.”


“I can get it, Ronnie. You’ll wrinkle your skirt.”


“Sit.” Her long fingers made quick work of loosening the laces. She knelt down and put one hand on the back of Rose’s calf. The satiny material of her knee high hose was no match to the natural softness Ronnie usually felt. Using her knee as a footrest, she put the sneaker on her companion’s foot and began tying it. “Remember, the church is going to be packed. Make sure you get a seat. I don’t want to find you leaning up against the back wall, you got it?”


“Got it.” She leaned down and adjusted the bow on Ronnie’s blouse. “Got your handkerchief?”


“And a spare.”


“All right then, I guess you’re ready.” Rose paused for a second, then put her hands on the taller woman’s shoulders. “Ronnie, I know you think you have to be this big, strong superwoman but you don’t. Even though you two had problems, he was still your brother and I know you loved him. If you have to cry, do it.” Her words earned her a gentle kiss on the forehead as her companion stood up.


“I’ll see you after the service.” Ronnie remained stooped long enough to tuck an errant strand of gold hair behind Rose’s ear.


As expected, the church was packed with friends, family, and business associates of the Cartwrights. Despite Ronnie’s words, Rose was content to stand against the back wall but a man sitting in the last pew stood and offered his seat. Remaining at the back wall, Maria took possession of the crutches so no one would trip over them. From their position at the rear of the large church it was impossible to see Beatrice and her daughters in the front pew. Rose listened to the monotone words as the priest went through the standard phrases of comfort and prayers of solace. When the end drew near, she motioned to Maria for her crutches, deciding it was easier to get out now than wait and get caught up in the throngs of people.


Just as she was getting into Maria’s car the doors of the church opened. From her vantage point, she could see the six men carrying out the casket. She watched as Beatrice exited, flanked by her daughters. Rose squinted but was too far away to really see Ronnie’s eyes. Her friend’s head was hung and her arm was around her distraught mother. She saw that Susan was also providing support to the grieving woman as they walked down the steps and into the waiting limousine. Realizing Maria was waiting for her, Rose put her crutches in the back seat and got into the car.



* * *

Just as Ronnie had predicted, friends and family members began pouring into the house less than half an hour after the funeral had ended. Long tables covered one side of the living room, stacked high with breads, meats, and cheeses. Leaning against one wall out of the main flow of traffic, Rose noticed it was the first place people went to as they arrived. Since the laundry room had plenty of rods and hangers, it served as a makeshift coatroom. The cool March winds delayed any idea people may have had about putting their coats away for the season just yet.


The floodgates were open and close to fifty people were there by the time Ronnie arrived with her mother and sister. Rose spotted the mane of dark hair above the rest of the crowd and began to work her way over. The trip was made easier when she had been spotted and the determined executive met her halfway. “Hi.” This close, it was easy to see makeup concealing the dark circles beneath Ronnie’s eyes. Leaning heavily on her right crutch, Rose discreetly reached over and intertwined their fingers, giving them a slight squeeze.


“Hi yourself,” Ronnie said, returning the affectionate gesture with one of her own. “Quite the crowd.” She scanned the area, quickly noting those who would be problems as time went on and the drinks continued to flow. “You wait, Rose. Before the night is through I’ll guarantee you at least one fist fight.”


“Fist fight? At a funeral?”


“I give them one hour to lament Tommy’s death. After that, the topic will turn to his will and speculations over who gets what and then the fighting will start, I’m sure.” They worked their way over to a corner near the stairs. Rose watched as her companion shifted her weight from one leg to the other and back again.


Rose thought to herself.


“Ronnie, come into my room for a minute.”


“Sure,” she replied, grateful for any chance to get away.


The first thing Ronnie noticed when she entered the room was one of her outfits neatly laid out on the bed. “I thought you would be more comfortable in your slacks,” Rose said with a shrug. To the pointed look at the shoes on the floor she added, “I know how much your feet hurt after being in heels all day. Flats are perfectly acceptable with those slacks. I’ve seen you wear them before.”


“So you had Maria pick these out for me?”


“No,” Rose replied with a proud smile. “I picked them out myself and brought them down. Maria was busy.”


The thoughtfulness almost brought Ronnie to tears. Blinking rapidly, she reached out and let one finger trace the smaller woman’s jawline. “Thank you.” She took a step back and kicked off her shoes. “I’d better get changed and back out there. I’m sure someone is looking for me. Probably my mother.” She added the last part under her breath. The skirt hit the floor followed quickly by her half-slip.


“Did everything go well at the service?”