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Maddie’s honeyed voice as he opened the front door.
Sweetie?
But there was no familiar greeting, no hug. Not the warmth of her body, not that ugly flannel robe the color of gravy she’d worn the last few months of life. Beautiful Maddie, smarter than him, better than him.
The doctors had tried every available option, but when all else failed, they suggested implanting irradiated rods in her head. Irradiated rods that would presumably kill off the cancer cells, blast them all to hell along with half her brain. Sophie wasn’t allowed to visit Maddie in the hospital during the procedure, since it was far too dangerous, and Charlie could only stay for fifteen minutes a day. But Maddie, his lovely dying wife, had remained inside that specially outfitted room for over a week, those rods in her head emitting dangerous doses of radiation. Surely it had done more harm than good…
    The front hallway smelled of burned toast. The polished floorboards creaked in the same places they always had; only Maddie was gone. He missed her most when he got home from work. Pictures dusty with neglect lined the hallway walls, and he paused to straighten one out—a youthful Maddie smiling down at him, her eyes two crescents of amusement. He frowned, letting the sadness and guilt wash over him. If he held perfectly still, it would be gone soon.
    “Charlie?” Peg Morris said, popping out of the kitchen and cinching her blue kimono shut. “Oh my gosh. You scared the bejesus out of me!” Peg had swooped in to fill the void after Maddie’s death with her rumpled maternal instinct and tattered blue silk kimono, cigarettes and God knows what else bulging from the pockets. She was Maddie’s second cousin and lived across town, but she spent an occasional night at their place whenever Charlie had to work late. She had no children of her own and had taken Sophie under her wing, and for that, Charlie would be eternally grateful.
    “Thanks for looking after her, Peg.”
    “Oh please, don’t even mention it.” She had penny-colored hair and a mole beside her mouth that wasn’t pretty. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer, Mr. Man. How about some French toast and bacon?”
    “I don’t have time to even contemplate breakfast, Peg.”
    She had a laugh like watered-down Scotch. “What about coffee? You got time to contemplate that?”
    “Love a cup.”
    “Is everything okay?”
    “Some major damage. A few people died.”
    “Mary Jo Crider, Rob and Jenna Pepper, Danielle, John Payne, and Bill Rowley. Oh my gosh, when we first heard about it on the radio, we couldn’t believe our ears.” She shook her head in shock. “You hear about tornadoes all your life, but you never think it’ll happen to you.”
    “How’s Ben?” he asked, remembering Peg’s boyfriend.
    “Lost a few horses, but we all survived, didn’t we?”
    He paused on the stairs. “Can you stay tonight?”
    “Sorry, Charlie. I promised Ben.”
    “Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.” He took the stairs two at a time, then knocked on the DISASTER AREA sign taped to his daughter’s door. “Sofe? You awake?”
    “C’mon in,” came her groggy voice.
    Entering his daughter’s room with its peach-colored walls, ivory curtains and vanilla oak floor was like diving into a pale pool. Disaster area was right—there were dirty clothes everywhere you looked, magazines and soda cans, CDs and cosmetics. Her room looked like the inside of a Dumpster, but she knew exactly where everything was. Sophie was curled in a fetal lump beneath her bedcovers. She slept with her fists squeezed shut, as if she were clinging to a thin rope of consciousness.
    “Hey there, jelly bean.”
    “Dad!” She sat up and gave him a hug. “I was so worried about you!” She had her mother’s widely spaced eyes and sensual mouth, same mixture of innocence and self-reliance. She had Maddie’s long cinnamon-colored hair and porcelain skin with that rich pink