![]() ![]() I didn’t cause it, I couldn’t control it. She chanted her sponsor’s slogan for relief: “I didn’t cause it, I couldn’t control it. And she was right, although the way she said it left Jane feeling as if her mother blamed her.Ī stab of guilt shot up Jane’s spine, doubling her over in agony. That’s what her own mother had said to her as they walked back to the car. “A mother’s not supposed to bury her daughter.” There were a few words spoken by the minister from the island church, and that was it. Yesterday she had huddled beneath a tent, along with the small congregation of mourners, including her mother and her brother, neither of whom she could stand, and watched as the casket went down, wishing it were her inside instead of Melody. But then the wipers would sweep away the rain, and she’d be looking once again at her daughter’s freshly covered grave. She kept telling herself it wasn’t true, that her Melody wasn’t really gone. She left the ignition on, with the wipers set on delay, and she watched as the water slid down the windshield, obscuring the dreary view beyond. ![]() But Jane didn’t care-the rain matched her mood. ![]() It had been raining seventeen days straight, according to the news. The day after the funeral, Jane came back to the island cemetery and sat in her car, watching the rain fall on her daughter’s grave. ![]()
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