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had lived practically her whole life. Before she could get out, he tucked a hand under her chin and forced her to face him.
    “This is not your fault,” he said emphatically. “Or your mom’s. Or your brothers’. There’s still every chance in the world that this was a tragic accident. Remember that.”
    “I’ll try.”
    Slowly, he released her. “Just in case, I’ll be around to remind you,” he promised.
    Tears welled up in her eyes and she reached for his hand, clinging to it for one last reassuring second before she went inside to face the reality of her family’s unthinkable tragedy.
     
    Rosa refused to get out of bed, refused to eat. She feigned sleep every time anyone came into her bedroom. If she was asleep, no one could say anything about Don. No one could tell her he was dead. She could pretend that it was all a terrible nightmare and that when she woke up, he would be right there beside her. He would hold her, maybe make love to her, and their day would begin as every other day had begun, with a mad rush to get to Flamingo Diner before the first customers began arriving at 6:00 a.m.
    But as the sun began to set and shadows filled the room, she could no longer deny the harsh reality that she’d awakened to just after one in the morning when Matt had come knocking on their door. She’d shouted at him to stop his lies, that Don was not dead, that he knew that curve in the road, that he would never drive so recklessly that he’d wind up in the lake, but Matt hadn’t changed expressions even once. He’d justled her to a chair, then hunkered down beside her and held her hand, pleading with her to tell him who he could call, what he could do.
    Rosa hadn’t known how to answer. For nearly thirty years, whenever there had been any kind of trouble in her life, she had turned to her husband. Who else could she possibly call? Who else could offer consolation and support and love? She had the children, of course, but they were young. They would need her support, even Emma, who would be devastated that her beloved father was gone. She needed to be strong for all of them, but she wasn’t strong, not without Don beside her.
    Finally Matt had awakened the boys and told them the same awful lies about Don. He’d called Helen and asked her to come over. He’d made sure Emma was notified. He’d done all the things Rosa should have been doing, but had been too paralyzed to do. And she’d hated him, because he’d made it real.
    That’s why she’d retreated to her room, so she could pretend that it had been nothing more than an awful nightmare.
    A light tap on the door startled her. She thought everyone had given up, had decided to let her grieve in private.
    “Mama?”
    It was Emma. Rosa sat up in bed, flipped on the light, drew in a deep breath, then called out for her daughter to come in.
    As the doorknob turned, Rosa realized she wasn’t ready for this, would probably never be ready for this. From the moment her children had been born, they had looked to her and to their father for answers. Nowthere were no answers, at least none that made any sense. She doubted there ever would be again.
     
    While Emma was in with her mother, Matt watched Jeff warily. The kid was on edge. He hadn’t said a word, but Matt knew Jeff was craving something that would take away his pain. Maybe he’d turn to alcohol, maybe drugs. Either way, Matt could have told him that the pain would still be there. He’d made his own share of mistakes along those lines. He knew the signs and he knew there were no easy answers.
    “I’m going out,” Jeff announced to no one in particular.
    “Where?” Matt asked.
    “None of your business.”
    “Your brother needs you.”
    “Andy’s fine.”
    “Oh, really? He didn’t seem that fine to me when he left the house.”
    Jeff’s belligerent expression faltered. “He’s not here?”
    “No.”
    “He was right here. Why’d you let him leave?”
    “Frankly, I thought you’d go after