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After all the thought he put into this, he
    hadn’t explained himself properly!
    “Mrs. Simpson, I can’t take you to him. He…he’s dead.”
    Two seconds. Three seconds. Five seconds ticked by. She continued to
    stare at him as if he’d grown three heads.
    “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
    For the longest time she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then, he felt the first
    tremor when it hit. Her small hands, still clasped in his, began to shake as
    the shock waves entered her body. Finally, she snatched both her hands out
    of his grasp and covered her mouth. She stared at him, her eyes filling up,
    glistening with unshed tears. He watched their light brown, gold-flecked
    color change to a dark burnished gold, as the tears began to fall.
    “Craig?” She uttered in a squeaky whisper of disbelief.
    Clay began to ramble, running through what happened as if the hounds of
    hell were nipping at his heels.
    “He was on his way over here, when he stopped off to take care of some
    errands. We think he walked in on a convenience store robbery. He was
    27

    off duty, so he didn’t have his gun on him, but he never would have had a
    chance to use it if he did. The gunman must have panicked when he came
    in.”
    “ Ohmigod.”
    Her hands dropped slowly to her sides and clutched at the denim skirt she
    was wearing, bunching the material tightly in her fists. She stared at him
    wide eyed, before crying out.
    “No! Nooooooo! Not Craig! Oh, please not Craig!”
    Uncontrollable spasms replaced her normal breathing. Her right hand flew
    up and she splayed her fingers across her chest, as if that gesture could seal
    the hole that this mess was ripping through her heart. Suddenly, her body
    began to jerk and her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.
    Clayton caught her in his arms just as her knees buckled. She fell hard
    against his chest and he felt his sunglasses scrape painfully across his chest
    on impact. Yanking them out of his pocket, he flung them across the room
    and his arms tightened around her, as she slid toward the floor. He held onto
    her as tightly as any human could hold another person, but her five-foot-five,
    hundred and thirty pound, slender frame was a dead weight in his arms and
    he cushioned her fall by dropping to the floor with her.
    Her cries were a pitiful sound, as they rose in crescendo along with her
    mounting grief and terror.
    “No! No!...Nooooo!” Squeaky, high keening moans emitted from lips
    close to Clay’s ear and although her eyes were shut tight, tears streamed
    freely from each corner. The moaning momentarily stopped as she took in a
    deep shuddering breath, expelled it in a long, rasping rush then burst into a
    desolate, full-scale weeping that violently racked her slender frame. He held
    her firm within his arms, feeling her slight weight offer itself into his
    comfort.
    “Not again,” she cried. “Lord please, not again.” She stopped abruptly,
    then began again, “He was coming over to fix the mow…mow…” Unable to
    complete the word mower, she wept uncontrollably.
    “I know, I know,” he whispered to her softly. She began to tremble
    violently in his arms and Clayton moved his right hand from her shoulders to
    guide her head to his chest. Vi drooped against him with her forehead lying
    near his throat, against his exposed chest where a smattering of dark hair
    peeked out. Her hot tears flowed everywhere and Clay felt them trail down
    his chest and wet the front of his shirt. They dripped unchecked onto his
    fluorescent swimming trunks turning the vivid blue to a dark navy where her
    tears pooled in spots.
    28

    Clayton was aware of all this while he held her, giving her an anchor,
    something she could hold onto. He felt the cold floor against his bare calves,
    and the hardness of the paisley printed wall behind him. He sat holding her,
    not quite a stranger, but certainly not a close friend. He was merely a young
    man she knew through her son, her dead son. They’d met a