Free Moving Forward by Lisa Marie Davis Page A

button on the telephone, deciding I would deal with any and all messages before Jamie came home to find his surprise dinner/dessert/weekend of debauchery. No distractions . If there were any fires raging, I would put them out, and maybe I would unplug the damn phone until sometime late Sunday night. Hell, maybe I could make a case for both me and Jamie calling in to work first thing Monday so we could enjoy some extra hours in bed. Oh, yes . I liked that plan.

    I smiled to myself as the messages finally began, and at first it was fairly typical stuff: friends calling to congratulate Jamie on an excellent production, a local sporting goods store calling to tell me my new track shoes were in, a few pointless telemarketing calls. Then, at last, a call that began with a long pause, followed by Emma’s nearly strangled voice. “… Payne? Jamie? Oh… God, please… as soon as you… you get… get this message, please call me….” I went still as a pained sob echoed around the otherwise silent room, and an icy wave washed over me. “I just… call me, please….”

    The message ended on that, and I automatically reached for the phone and hit Emma’s number, which we had on speed dial. My hands were shaking. I had never heard Emma sound that upset. She was positively shattered, and I realized I was holding my breath as the ringing finally started. After the third ring, the phone was answered by a voice that I didn’t immediately recognize.

    “Hello? Is Emma Truman there?” I kept myself calm and heard the phone being passed from whoever had answered.

    “Hello?”

    “Emma? It’s me. It’s Payne.”

    “Oh… oh, Payne….” She broke down into frantic sobs, and I felt myself sag against the kitchen counter because something was obviously wrong. The only question was what, and honestly, I was afraid of what the answer might be. “Payne… this… this afternoon, there… I don’t know how to… to say this, but Ava and Matt… oh my God, a truck ran a red light and crashed into the….”

    The sobs began again, and in that moment, I knew. Even without actually hearing the dreaded words, I knew, and tears began falling from my eyes as someone took the phone from Emma, and I listened as a stranger confirmed that yes, Ava and her husband were dead. Killed instantly. Dead at the scene. Luckily, their three month old daughter, Aubrey, was fine. Ava and Matt had been on their way to the daycare to pick her up when the accident happened, and Aubrey was currently sleeping upstairs, in a room Emma had created for visits shortly after the baby was born.

    “You know that Matt’s mom and dad are older. Neither is in good health—his dad has Alzheimer’s Disease, his mother has heart problems, and neither one is in any real position to help Emma with arrangements….” The stranger (a neighbor of Emma’s, I assumed) sounded nearly as devastated as Emma, and I was quick to assure her that Jamie and I would be there just as soon as humanly possible.

    Before ending the call, I asked her to tell Emma I would call as soon as I had information about our flight, and after hanging up, I went on emotional autopilot. I had to. Yes, my heart was shattered. I adored Ava, I considered Matt one of my best friends, and I wanted to sit down and sob because their deaths were beyond tragic. They were young, in love, and they had a beautiful little girl. It would’ve been so easy to fall apart, but I knew I needed to remain strong for Emma, and more importantly, James.

    Aware that my hands were shaking, I put all the food away, and then I called the airline and made reservations for their next flight to North Carolina. We needed to rent a car. I made myself focus on all the little details, and once those necessary arrangements were made, I went into the bedroom, where I began packing for myself and for my husband, because once he heard about Ava, he wouldn’t be in the mindset to pack.

    I needed to take care of James. More than