Free Things Remembered by Georgia Bockoven Page B

we would have to postpone the trip to another time.” She opened her purse, took out a pill from a small container and stuck it under her tongue. “I thought we had so much time. I should have known better, especially after Frank died so young.”
    â€œShe missed you,” Karla said defensively. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much. If I could see that, why couldn’t you?” The moment her mother died, Karla had become her champion, a role she’d carried so long it had become as much a part of her as the scar on her chin. It was impossible not to defend her now, even if Anna was dying.
    â€œAt night I’d sit on the porch and make up stories in my mind about what she’d done that day. I always put myself in the picture, of course. We’d have long conversations while we prepared dinner together. Afterwards, when we were cleaning the kitchen, we’d get to laughing and carrying on the way we used to when she was at home. Your mother liked to laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known. She’d get tickled about some silly little thing and the more she thought about it, the more tickled she would get. She’d wind up sitting on the floor holding her sides, me right along with her. Half the time I wouldn’t even know what we were laughing about.”
    This was a side to her mother Karla had never seen. She felt cheated. “I guess when you grow up things aren’t as funny anymore.”
    â€œWhen I got the phone call in the hospital that she and your father had been killed in the accident, the first image of her that came to me was one of her laughing. It’s stayed with me all this time.”
    â€œI see her in the car.” Somehow, Karla had forgotten the reason Anna hadn’t come to the funeral. She’d been in the hospital with a gallbladder attack, so ill the doctors had refused to release her.
    â€œBut you weren’t there. At least that’s what I was told. How is it that you know what she looked like?”
    â€œI listened to everyone talk about the accident, every tiny detail over and over again, how many bones were broken, how long my father lived, how Mom’s head went through the windshield, how much blood was in the car . . . everything.”
    â€œThey had no business saying things like that in front of you. They should have been more careful. Someone should have protected you. I should have been there to protect you.” She didn’t say anything for several seconds, and then softly added, “I was told they both died immediately.”
    It would only take a sentence to destroy Anna’s comforting image of a laughing daughter. Not only hadn’t Marie died immediately, she’d lasted long enough to see her beloved husband die before her own heart had run out of blood to pump. “She only lived a minute or two,” Karla lied. “As I recall, it even says so on the death certificate,” she added, compounding the lie.
    â€œIt would break my heart to think they suffered,” Anna said.
    â€œThey didn’t, so your heart is safe. At least from breaking.” She cringed at what had been a stupid attempt at humor. “I’m sorry. That was a thoughtless thing to say.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Anna said. “We’re new at this watching-what-we-say thing. It’s a given that there’ll be a little backsliding every now and then.”
    Karla changed lanes as they neared the Rocklin turnoff. “How long do your afternoon naps usually last? I looked through the cupboards this morning and there are some things we need from the store.”
    â€œDo as much shopping as you like. You don’t have to worry about me.”
    â€œI was going to make an appointment at the bank for this afternoon to get into your safe-deposit box, but I think you’ve been through enough today. It can wait until tomorrow.”
    â€œI’ve been giving