On Temporary Terms

“I should have been here.”

She heard the reproach in his voice. She understood it. But it stung, even so. Duncan was hurting, and he needed a place to direct his pain.

“You heard the doctor. He thinks she died instantly.”

Duncan’s eyes flashed. “But she shouldn’t have died alone.”

There was nothing to say to that.

Abby picked up a fork and forced down a few bites of food, though she didn’t really feel like eating at all. She was hoping that Duncan would follow her example by rote. After a few moments, he did. He cleared half of what was on his plate, drank one whole cup of coffee and poured himself a second one. Then he paced the kitchen, his agitation increasing by the moment.

Abby was at a loss. “Should we call your brother and your father?” she asked.

He glanced at his watch. “They’ll all be asleep by now. No need to wake them. Granny was very specific about her funeral arrangements. The entire family came en masse for Grandda’s services. She was honored and glad to have us here. But she insisted that when her time came, no one was to come back to the States. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes spread on top of the mountain.”

Suddenly, Duncan walked out of the kitchen. She followed him. His mood was volatile, so she was worried. Down the hall, he opened the door to his grandmother’s bedroom and stood there. Not entering. Only looking. Her bed was neatly made. The novel she had been reading earlier, perhaps before napping, lay facedown on the mattress.

Abby slipped an arm around his waist, trying without words to offer comfort where there was none. A minute passed. Then another.

Duncan was immovable, a statue in a house that had become a mausoleum. When he finally spoke, his words were barely audible. “Do you think she knew how reluctant I was to come here and stay? That I didn’t really want to learn the business? That my heart wasn’t in it?”