Free Stash by David Matthew Klein Page A

going to be buried in a cemetery.”
    Nora got under the blankets with Gwen. “I’ll bet you had pancakes. You smell like maple syrup.”
    “Yep. Are we going up to the lake today?”
    “Would you like to?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Me too. We all do. I have a few things to take care of first this morning, and maybe we can leave this afternoon.”
    “Daddy said we might not be able to go.”
    “He did? Daddy and I will talk about it.”
    Nora peered at Gwen’s stitches.
    “Do those hurt, Mommy?”
    “No, not really. It hurt a little bit when I got them but not now.”
    “Did it feel like getting a shot?”
    “It was just little pricks.”
    “Can I touch them?”
    “Sure, if you’re careful. Just use one finger.”
    Nora slowly moved her index finger to Gwen’s eyebrow and hovered there, trembling a little, then barely touched the thread of the stitches. Her hesitant gesture was heartbreaking. Gwen’s eyes filled with tears again.
    “Did that hurt?” Nora asked, pulling her finger away.
    “No, that was fine,” Gwen said, holding Nora’s hand in hers.
    They were quiet for a minute, then Nora asked, “Can we go in Daddy’s car?”
    “I think we have to, until the van gets fixed.”
    “It doesn’t have any cup holders in the back.”
    “I’m sure we can work something out,” Gwen reassured her.
    Nora jumped up from the bed and ran downstairs, calling, “Nate, Nate, we’re going—Mommy said we’re going!”
    Wait, I didn’t say that. Not for sure. A man has died
.
    Brian came upstairs.
    “I was just getting up,” Gwen said, rising out of bed. “Brian, did you know about James Anderson, the other driver?”
    “I heard it from Roger, last night.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “By the time I got a chance you were asleep.”
    Gwen shook her head. “It’s so sad. I feel sick over it.”
    “You couldn’t have prevented it,” Brian reassured her. “Roger told me the investigators already determined the other driver crossed the line.” He put his arms around her. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
    “How do I know that? What if there was?”
    “It’s okay,” he whispered. He held her tighter.
    She let go of Brian. “I feel terrible,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower.” The spray of water would drown her thoughts, the soap would smell sweet.
    “You told them we were going up to the lake?” he asked.
    “I said we’d talk about it. But I don’t see why we can’t go this afternoon after court. I could really use it now.”
    Brian hesitated, then came out with it. “I know this is bad timing, but I have to go into work.”
    “What?” She said it too forcefully and had to back off. “I thought you had cleared this time off months ago.”
    “I had, but circumstances changed yesterday—I never finished the meeting and wasn’t there to address some issues that came up.”
    “Can’t you deal with it when you get back?” It couldn’t hurt to ask, but if he could deal with it later, Gwen knew he would wait. Brian wouldn’t go into work unless he really had to, althoughGwen didn’t know much more than that. Brian didn’t talk about the details of work—he claimed to be immersed in them all day long and when he got home he’d had enough, wanted to leave it behind. So Gwen got only the big picture: he disappeared from home for ten hours a day or more or for a week of travel and was paid well for it. He held the title of director. He was involved with a complicated new effort to get his company’s anxiety drug Zuprone approved for weight loss. About the same level of detail he knew about her day-to-day life.
    “If I had stayed at the meeting, I probably could have juggled and gotten by—but I wasn’t there and others decided we needed a more detailed look at some of our data. And I’m the one who has to look at it.”
    “Can you bring your computer and carve out a few hours?”
    “My laptop’s at work, and some reports. I need to go in. I’ll go right