Free Never Say Never by Victoria Christopher Murray Page B

letting them sleep with the lights on, I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle all of this trauma and tragedy. The city had called in only three psychologists. But three were not enough with this devastation.
    Turning my car onto the freeway, I accelerated, so glad that I washeading toward home. But even though I was three miles away from the church, I could still hear the wailing in my ears. Especially the cries of LaTonya Miller.
    I’d shed so many tears since yesterday morning, it was a wonder that I had any left. But I had plenty now, for LaTonya, the six-year-old who lost her identical twin sister. That gorgeous, precious little girl still pierced my heart.
    â€œMommy and Daddy said LaTrisha died!”
    She kept saying that over and over, though I was convinced that she didn’t have a complete understanding of what that meant. Or maybe, because she was a twin, she did. I was concerned about all the children, but especially about LaTonya. I suspected that the closeness she and her sister shared, a relationship that had been established before they were born, could bring a ton of other issues. It was these unknown issues that truly concerned me. It was why that little girl had already captured my heart.
    I was grateful that LaTonya was with both of her parents, and even though the Millers were grieving the death of one daughter, they were willing to do whatever they had to do to help the child who was still with them. The Millers, though only in their twenties, seemed to be parents who understood their love would save their child.
    The Millers were parents who were so different from mine.
    I glanced at my cell phone, hesitated, then pressed the Bluetooth before I could change my mind.
    â€œCall Mom,” I said into the speaker quickly.
    As the phone rang, I held my breath, praying that the call would be answered. It rang, and rang, and rang. Just when I was sure that my mother would let my call go to voice mail once again, I heard her voice.
    â€œEmily?”
    â€œYes, Mom.”
    â€œCall me at home. He’s not here.”
    â€œOkay, I’m going to call you right back. Please pick up.”
    â€œI will, honey.”
    I clicked off and then commanded the hands-free unit to call her at home. As she waited for her house phone to ring, I imagined my mother deleting my call from her cell, erasing the evidence that she’d spoken to me.
    When my mother picked up on the first ring, I was happy and sad at the same time. Happy to speak to her, sad that I could count the number of times that I had in the last year.
    â€œHow are you, sweetheart?”
    Those words resonated through the car and then wrapped around me like my mother’s arms, making me feel loved and safe for a moment.
    â€œI’m . . . okay.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    It had to be her mother’s intuition, another sign that we were still connected, that she still loved me.
    I answered, “It’s Miriam . . . her husband died.”
    She hesitated for a moment. “Miriam?”
    â€œMy best friend.” I sighed inside.
    â€œOh my! What happened?”
    â€œHe died in a fire.”
    â€œOh, goodness. That’s so sad. How is she?”
    I let a beat or two pass, wondering if my mother would backtrack and ask about Jamal, since I had mentioned that it was a fire. Then I said, “She’s not good.”
    My mother tsked and moved on. “Well, I’ll say a prayer for her.”
    I attributed my mother not asking about my husband to her not remembering that Jamal was a firefighter, too.
    â€œAnyway,” I began, deciding to move on as well. “I’ve been called in to work with the children who were in school at the time.”
    â€œThe fire was at a school? Oh, my goodness.”
    â€œIt’s been pretty tough, and so I just wanted . . . I just needed to speak to you. To hear your voice.”
    â€œI’m glad you called,