“He’s gone,” I say.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

She holds me tight and rubs my back and strokes my hair. We sob and cry together.

Eventually, we step apart, and I look down at Alan again and wonder how in the world I’m going to explain this to Zack. He was so close to his father. They did everything together. How will I find the words to tell him that his life will never be the same?

This quadruples my agony.

Meanwhile, Alan’s own father is on the other side of the country. I’ll have to call him as well. And Alan’s colleagues at the hospital. They’ll be shocked. He probably has patients to see in the morning whose appointments will need to be canceled.

Oh God, why am I thinking about such stupid practicalities? What is wrong with me?

“I feel overwhelmed,” I say to my mom, “like I’m suffocating. I don’t know what to do. He can’t be dead. Mom, what do I do?”

“I’ll help you,” she says, trying to calm me. She takes hold of my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “I’ve been through this before. I know what you’re feeling.”

I reach for her hand and squeeze it.

“I need to call Zack,” I add, “but he’s home alone. Do I tell him over the phone? I can’t do that, Mom. I should go there. I need to tell him in person.” I feel rattled, confused, and flustered. My eyes dart around wildly. “But my car is totaled. Can I take yours? Or I could call a cab.”

“No, Abbie,” she firmly says. “It’s freezing rain out there. The roads are like skating rinks. You can’t risk getting in another accident. Zack can’t lose both parents tonight.”

I cover my face with my hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No,” I reply. “I need to do it. He needs to hear it from me, but I can’t do it over the phone. I want to be there with him when he finds out. Maybe I could call and tell him we need to stay here overnight because of the storm. Then I can go home in the morning and tell him in person.” I consider that for a few frenzied, chaotic seconds. Then I shake my head. “No. I can’t lie to him—especially because there were news vans at the accident site. I can’t let him find out that way. I have to tell him tonight.”

“Is there anyone you can call to go over there and be with him?”

I consider that as well. “I can call Jeremy’s parents. They live a block away, and they’re like a second set of parents to him.”

I look back down at Alan and feel another stab of grief in my heart. My husband . . . how will I survive without him? And how is Zack going to cope with this loss?

Swallowing heavily over the painful emotions lodged in my throat, I bend forward and lay a soft kiss on Alan’s cheek, then gently unclasp his watch, which was a gift from me on our tenth wedding anniversary. He had worn it every day since. I slip it into my pocket and force myself to step back.

“We need to go,” I say to my mother, because I have no other choice. As much as I want to stay here and never leave Alan’s side, Zack needs me. “I have to call Jeremy’s parents . . . and Zack. And then Alan’s father.”

We walk out together and back to my bed in the ER, but I feel suddenly nauseated. “I need some air. Just give me a minute.”

I turn away from her and head to the main entrance, where the sliding glass doors open in front of me. The bitter-cold air strikes me in the face, but I welcome the shock of it because I need to wake up from this daze I’m in. Standing under the overhang in the glare of the bright spotlights, I listen to the crackling sound of the freezing rain as it batters the ground. The whole world is cloaked in ice—the pavement, the naked tree branches, and all the parked cars in the lot. It hardly seems real. None of this does.

I begin to shiver, so I hurry back inside the hospital.

As I limp back to my bed in the ER, I realize that Winston still hasn’t been found, I haven’t gotten the stitches I’ve been waiting for, and my head is pounding. The nausea hasn’t passed, and my stomach turns, so I dash to the nearest washroom, where I expel the contents of my stomach and grimace at the pain in my head and heart.

I’m probably concussed. Or maybe it’s just the emotional effects of this horrendous ordeal.

A few minutes later, after I rinse out my mouth and splash water on my face, I look at myself in the mirror and recoil at my ghastly reflection. I haven’t seen myself since the accident. My eyes are puffy from crying, and my face is bruised, bloody, and swollen. My hair is caked in blood. But I don’t care what I look like—my husband is dead.

I want to cry again, to sob like a baby, but I smother the urge because I need to stay strong for Zack and make it through my phone call to him, and then I’ll have to somehow endure the next few days. Somehow, I’ll have to endure the rest of my life without Alan.

My skull throbs as I open the washroom door and return to my bed. I push back the privacy curtain and find my mother sitting in the chair, wringing her hands together in her lap. She takes one look at me and frowns, then quickly rises and comes over to me.

“Abbie. You need to get off your feet before you collapse.”

I allow her to help me onto the bed, where I lay my head on the pillows and close my eyes for a moment or two. I still feel nauseated. My body trembles.

“You’ve been through so much,” Mom says, stroking my hair away from my face.

All I can do is nod my head. Then I do something I don’t want to do but that must be done. I pick up my phone and dial Jeremy’s parents’ number to deliver the worst news possible and ask for their help.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jeremy’s parents, David and Maureen, are devastated to learn what happened to Alan. Maureen cries on the phone and tells me repeatedly how sorry she is. She wants to help in any way she can.

I ask her to go over to my house and get Zack. “I have to tell him tonight because it’s probably going to be on the news and I don’t want him to find out that way. And I don’t want him to spend the night alone either. He needs to be with people who care about him.”

“Of course,” Maureen replies. “I’ll take Jeremy with me. We’ll go over there right now and ring the doorbell.”

“Thank you so much, Maureen,” I reply. “I’m about to call him, so he’s going to be upset when you get there. Please do what you can. Give him a hug, stay by his side.”

“You know I will. He’s like a son to me, Abbie. We’ll take good care of him, I promise. And whatever else you need, just say the word. We’re here for you.”

I think about that for a moment. “There is something, actually. Maybe in the morning, as soon as the weather clears, could you drive him down here? I think it would be best if we stayed in Lunenburg with my mom for a few days while we come to grips with all of this. And there are so many arrangements that need to be taken care of.”

I can’t bear to think of what I’ll have to face in the coming days, like deciding where to hold the funeral and where to bury Alan. He and I have wills, and we always knew we wanted to be buried together, but we never reached a final decision about where that would be. We thought we had lots of time to figure that out. And what about the obituary? I’ll have to call our friends and family and think about a headstone. I have no idea how I’m going to get through it all.

Maureen tells me to take care and to call if I need anything.

We hang up, and I breathe deeply to summon the courage to dial Zack’s number. He picks up right away.

“Mom. I’ve been waiting. What’s happening? Are you in Halifax yet?”

I shut my eyes and try to speak in a steady voice. “No, honey. I’m still in Lunenburg, and I have some news. I’m afraid it’s not good.” I take a shaky breath. “Your father had a lot of internal bleeding, and he was in really bad shape. The helicopter arrived to pick him up, but we couldn’t get him there in time. The doctors and nurses did everything they could, but . . . but he didn’t make it, honey.”

The silence is ominous.

“What do you mean he didn’t make it?” Zack finally asks.

My throat clenches so tight I can barely get air into my lungs. “He didn’t make it,” I say again in a shaking voice. “He died, sweetheart.”

There’s another long pause. “What do you mean? He can’t be dead.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. It was a very bad accident. Worse than we thought.”

“No!” Zack sobs. “It’s not true. It can’t be!”

I cover my mouth with my hand, smothering a sob of my own because it breaks my heart to know that my son is suffering and I’m not there to hold him and comfort him.

“We did everything we could,” I explain, “but he was badly hurt.”

Zack’s voice quavers. “You were there?”

“Yes. I helped as much as I could, and I tried my best. We all did. There was nothing anyone could do.”

I listen to the sound of my son crying, and soon we are crying together. I can’t stop the tears. They pour down my cheeks in a terrible flood of despair.

“Did he say anything to you?” Zack asks when we collect ourselves. “Did he know he was dying?”

I pull myself together and try to answer honestly. “No. He was unconscious by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital. He never woke up after that.”

I hear the doorbell ring in the background.

“Someone’s here,” Zack says.

“It’s Maureen,” I tell him. “I asked her to stop by. Go and let her in.”

“No, Mom. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.”

“Try to calm down, Zack. Take a slow, deep breath in. Good. Now another.”

“Okay. I’m going to go let her in.”

I listen as he gets up and answers the door. I hear Maureen’s loving voice, and I know that she is hugging my son. Jeremy’s there too. I listen to them talking, and I’m so thankful they’re all together.