Free One September Morning by Rosalind Noonan Page A

cannot believe it. It seems ludicrous that such information could simply be passed to Sgt. Palumbo to pass on to her. Maybe the information is wrong. “Can I ask you…” She lifts her face to the sergeant. “Has the army ever made a mistake in something like this? I mean, maybe they’ve got the wrong guy.”
    He sighs. “I’ve never heard of it happening. At least, not in our lifetime. When John’s remains arrive at Dover Air Force Base, they’ll run tests to verify his identity.”
    “Oh.” She would like to hang her hopes on the delusion that a huge mistake was made, and she would if she could just get rid of this sick feeling in her stomach.
    “Have you thought about a final resting place?” the sergeant asked.
    A grave. Abby shakes her head. “John wanted to be cremated,” she said. “We both do.” At least they had discussed that much at the funeral of one of John’s college teammates who had died in an accident. The kid’s parents had made the unfortunate choice to have the casket open, and the body laid out in a bed of satin looked nothing like the vibrant defensive end who had helped the Scarlet Knights to victory. “No open coffin,” John said. “That’s just creepy. And burn what’s left of me. Ashes to ashes.”
    “Cremation is a viable option,” Sgt. Palumbo says, “but you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it. Discuss the possibilities with family if you like, and I’ll be here to assist you when the time comes.”
    “And you know I’ll help, too.” Suz reaches across the table and squeezes Abby’s wrist. “I’ve been through it before.” The tip of Suz’s nose turns bright red and tears shine in her eyes.
    Abby places a hand over Suz’s and nods. The wounds are still fresh from Scott’s death and now Suz is here to suffer again. It’s so wrong.
    Sgt. Palumbo excuses himself to talk to someone in the living room, and Abby takes a deep breath.
    “This is surreal. These people in my house. All the food and conversation. It seems festive, and maybe that’s not wrong. John would hate for anyone to wax morose over him.”
    “At least you’ve got Sharice. She’s quite the diplomat,” Suz says, and they both glance out toward the living room. Although Abby cannot see her mother-in-law she can hear her remarking on how she’s going to extract the secret recipe for someone’s sour cream noodle casserole.
    “Sharice is so good with things like this,” Abby says. She had long admired her mother-in-law’s ability to hostess with charm and grace.
    “And she’s all-army. She really knows the culture. She and Madison were a tremendous help when we lost Scott.”
    Over on the rocking chair, John’s teenage sister Madison holds Sofia in her lap, reading The Very Noisy Morning for the umpteenth time. How good of Madison to entertain Sofia when she herself is hurting. She and John were close.
    “Yes, Noah will be home just as soon as they can get him the flights back,” Sharice is saying. “Certainly in time for the funeral. It will be good to see him.”
    Abby’s mouth puckers involuntarily. “Thank God Noah didn’t get taken out, too. At least he’ll have some answers when he gets here, some specifics of what happened to John.”
    “I’m sure he will, sweetie,” Suz says.
    “As if that matters. I mean, if he’s really gone, knowing the details isn’t going to bring him back. I’m sorry, my mind isn’t working properly anymore.”
    “No need to apologize. You’re not supposed to be sweet and rational right now. You’re supposed to throw up your arms and holler and blubber. Let it go like an elephant trumpeting over the savannah.” Her arms flailing, Suz lets out a wild, bestial howl.
    Silence falls over the house. A moment later two women peek into the kitchen. “Everything okay in here?” a woman with short-cropped black hair asks cautiously.
    “We’re just mad as hell,” Suz answers. “But all things considered…” She shrugs.