Friday Edition, The Read Online Free PDF

Sam’s physical features that made her stand out. No high cheekbones, no deep-set eyes, or wide, inviting smile. She’d been having passing thoughts lately of going to a shorter hairstyle. She felt she was getting too old now to wear her hair as she did when she was twenty, in long layers past her shoulders.
    Sam had always felt she was as plain as a farm girl, in every sense of the word. That’s what her father had called her. A farm girl. She had hated that. She stepped closer to the mirror to examine her face, a geography she knew well. She had slept very little in the last three days and it showed in her eyes. There was something in Robin’s eyes that Sam never saw in her own or in others. Robin had eyes that took everything in. Her eyes would skim, then settle on someone. They would blaze and bore in when she was speaking, then sink back and appraise when she was being addressed.
    Sam stepped away from the mirror and watched herself clip her pager to her belt. She put on her coat thinking of the open bottle of wine in the refrigerator. She entertained the notion of taking a few swallows to calm her nerves. For Robin, she wanted to wait, but the temptation was too great. The first swallow burned all the way down. The second swallow calmed her nerves and she sighed deeply.
    She headed for her Mustang. She drove to the church because she did not want to ride in one of those “funeral cars.” Nona and Howard wanted to attend Robin’s funeral, but Sam didn’t want April to come. So they stayed at the ranch and kept April.
    The weather had improved dramatically since Christmas, which helped to lift her spirits. The sky was as big and round as a beach ball. The sun bounced off the snow, and Sam squinted behind her sunglasses.
    Sam reached St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, a sanctuary situated beneath the foothills near Golden. Her attention flicked to the pews as she reached the church doors. The church was packed. As Sam followed the pallbearers carrying her sister’s casket, she saw Jonathan sitting a few rows from the altar. Wilson Cole Jr., her publisher at the Grandview Perspective , was sitting directly behind Jonathan. Sam felt herself smiling, grateful that Wilson had taken the time to attend Robin’s service. She wanted to sit next to him, but since he was sitting near Jonathan, she decided against the idea.
    As the service began Sam found herself staring at the altar, feeling empty. None of that sanctuary-induced “peace” that Robin claimed she felt inside churches. None of that “higher power” stuff that AA used to program ( brainwash as Sam liked to tell Robin) recovering alcoholics. Sam lowered her head, ashamed that she had scoffed at Robin for her beliefs. They, and maybe the “higher power,” had helped Robin through difficult times during her first years of sobriety.
    Her emptiness abated when Judie Rossetti slid into the pew beside her. “Sorry I’m late,” Judie whispered. “Last minute stuff at the office.”
    “I’m just glad you’re here,” Sam said and hesitated a moment before she asked, “any news on the autopsy yet?”
    Judie shook her head. “Not yet.”
    When the services were over, Sam and Judie walked the short distance to Golden Cemetery. Sam remembered what the priest had said during his sermon about how each life lived eventually becomes a book. How a single letter becomes a word, becomes a sentence, becomes a paragraph, before finally becoming a chapter and on and on and on until the cycle of life ends and the book has been written. “What kind of book will people read when all is said and done?” the priest had asked.
    Wilson joined Sam and Judie and they walked slowly to Robin’s grave and sat in folding chairs before the gaping hole beside her casket. Judie tapped Sam on the shoulder and pointed. Sam followed Judie’s finger and saw Todd Matthews walking toward them. Sam motioned for him to sit beside them.
    Todd nodded at Judie and Wilson and took Sam’s hand