Free Comfort & Joy by Kristin Hannah Page A

boyo. Anyone would be sad after losing their mum.”

    Bobby sighs and crosses his arms. There’s a wealth of emotion in the sound. “But not everyone talks to her ghost.”

    Daniel sighs. “I’m tryin’ to help, Bobby.”

    “It would help if you believed me,” Bobby says. Slithering out of the cab, he runs on ahead.

    I walk across the parking lot with Daniel. We are so close our arms are nearly touching, but neither of us pulls away. For a moment, as we enter the building, I imagine we’re a family, the three of us, here for Bobby’s regular checkup. If it were true, I’d follow them down the hallway and turn into the doctor’s office. I’d answer all the doctor’s questions about my son’s health. No doubt the three of us would go for ice-cream cones when it was over.

    Instead, I go to the waiting room and sit down, alone. At some point, while I’m staring out the window at a rhododendron the size of a luxury car, a nurse comes up to me. She puts a hand on my shoulder and peers down at me.

    The touch startles me. I hadn’t even heard her approach.

    “How are we today?” she asks.

    I frown. Had I fallen asleep? Had some kind of nightmare? I don’t think so. I was staring out the window, thinking about the big green leaves on the rhododendron; that’s all. I open my mouth to say “I’m fine, thanks,” but what comes out is, “I’m alone.”

    The nurse with the plump, apple cheeks smiles sadly. “You’re not alone.”

    It makes me feel better, that assurance, but when she leaves, I am alone again. Waiting.

    For the first time since I ran away from Bakersfield and the crash, I wonder what it is I’m waiting for.

     

    A fter the doctor’s appointment, as we’re heading across the parking lot, Daniel says, “I could go for some ice cream right about now. How about you?”

    “Yippee!” Bobby squeals, bouncing with each step.

    “Ice cream sounds good,” I say, trying not to smile. It is the first time I’ve felt welcomed by Daniel, included.

    Beyond the parking lot is a lovely tree-lined street with small, well-tended houses on either side. The yards are full of color, even on this chilly December day—bright green grass, yellow bushes, blue-green kale in terra cotta pots. Ornamental cherry trees line the sidewalk, and though the limbs are bare now, it’s easy to imagine them awash in pink blossoms. Come spring, this street must look like a parade route with the air full of floating pink confetti.

    As we reach the corner, we merge into the crowd out Christmas shopping on this sunny day. All around us, people are talking to one another. Every person we pass calls out a greeting to Daniel and Bobby.

    We duck into a cute little ice-cream shop that proudly offers seven flavors. Behind the counter, a television is playing. On it, Jimmy Stewart is running down the snowy streets of Bedford Falls. The girl serving ice cream—a pretty teenager with a pierced nose and jet black hair—smiles at us. “Hey, Bobby. You want your regular?”

    Bobby grins. “You bet. Double scoop.”

    The girl looks at Daniel. Her blush and stammer reminds me how good-looking he is. Even a teenage girl notices. “I’ll have a pralines and cream,” he says in that velvet brogue that makes the girl smile.

    I am just about to order a single scoop of cookie dough ice cream on a sugar cone when a picture of a crashed plane fills the television. On-screen, a local broadcaster is standing in front of the charred wreckage, saying, “ . . . plane crashed in the woods northeast of here. Survivors have been airlifted to several local hospitals for treatment. Authorities are in the process of identifying survivors and contacting family members. All of the named passengers on the manifest have been accounted for.”

    Thank God . Everyone survived.

    “However, witnesses report that an unidentified woman bought a last-minute ticket on the flight . . .”

    Panic seizes hold of me. They’re trying to find