Page 30 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

“How you doing?” I asked lamely.

She shook her head.

I desperately needed a hot shower and clean clothes, but she shucked the robe, grabbed her jeans and shirt off the floor and put them on, so I decided to do the same.

The smell of fresh-brewed dark roast hit us as soon as we got to the top of the stairs. “Coffee will help,” I said.

“Good morning,” my father said. If it were any other day, we’d have gotten a textbook parental lecture on the perils of drinking and driving. But not today. He looked at Misty. “I spoke to your grandfather.”

She stared at him, confused. “How...?”

“The local cops called the Colorado state police, who tracked down your grandparents, broke the news to them, and gave them my number. Your grandfather called here a few hours ago. I told him you were okay, so we decided to let you sleep.”

“Thanks. Did he say when they’re coming?”

“They’re not. Your grandmother is not healthy enough to make the trip, and your grandfather won’t leave her alone.”

Disbelief spread across her face. “They’re not... but... how am I supposed to do this on my own? I don’t know how to plan a funeral.”

My father put his hand on Misty’s shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s not your responsibility. Your grandparents will take care of everything. They’re flying your mother and brother to Colorado.”

“What about my father?”

I could see the strain on my father’s face. He was the messenger, and I had the feeling he didn’t agree with the message. “They decided to let the county take care of him.”

“The county?”

“Misty, they just lost their daughter and their grandson. That’s who they want. And you, of course. They’re sending you a ticket. Once you’ve settled in with them, they’ll find a broker here to sell the house and ship whatever you?—”

“Settled in? Are they crazy? Do they think I’m moving to the middle-of-nowhere, Colorado? I hardly even know them. No way. I’m staying here.”

My father looked at me, then back at Misty. “Fine. We have an extra room, and if it’s okay with your grandparents you can stay with us for as long as you?—”

“No, no, no, Mr. McCormick. I love you guys for taking me in, but I didn’t mean stayhere. I couldn’t possibly walk out that front door every day without looking across the street and seeing my house, and the cop cars, and the ambulances, and the detectives telling me that my entire family was dead. I meant I’m staying in Heartstone. This is where I go to school. This is where my life is... what’s left of it. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be your decision to make. You’re a minor. The courts are going to want to make sure you’re placed somewhere safe in a home with responsible adults.”

“That’s okay,” Misty said. “I have a responsible adult who will take me.”

“Who?” I said.

“Her name is Savannah Jeffries. She’s twenty-eight years old. She works for an insurance company. She’s married to an electrician, they have two kids, and they live in East Willow, which is still in our school district.”

“That’s fantastic. It would be so good if you could stay in Heartstone,” I said. “Who is she anyway?”

“She’s my... she’s my sister.”

I looked at her cautiously, wondering if she’d gone off the deep end. “Misty,” I said, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Neither did I,” she said. “I only met her three weeks ago.”

“Why don’t you sit down at the table,” my father said. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“No thanks,” Misty said. “But some more coffee would be good.”

He refilled her cup, and the three of us sat down. “So how did you find out you had a sister?” he asked.

“One night my parents were fighting,” Misty said. “He yelled at her a lot after he lost the store—always about money. Charlie’s new sneakers were too expensive, or she was running the air conditioner too much, but that night he was screaming because she got her hair done, and didn’t she know they couldn’t afford shit like that anymore?

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