Chapter 2: Jude-Nine years later

Mother Nature shaded the sky in hues of graphite, violet, and a morose blue in a sullen farewell. The threat of rain was appropriate as I stood next to my mother's casket. Everyone had said their goodbyes and told me what a lovely service it was-I didn't think a funeral could be anything other than gruesome and depressing. I'd learned over the past nine years, and the last few days, when people don't know what to say, they repeat cliché phrases when silence would do better. Today was no different.

I understood my mother's friends' desire to pay their respects, to show her their love one final time. I just wished they realized that I didn't want to share those moments with them. I wanted to have my own, one that no one else would be privy to. My feelings volleyed between sadness, grief, anger, and rage, and the emotional shifts had only become more swift and unexpected after my mom took her final breath. Today, I hung between overwhelming sorrow and blinding fury. It took everything in me to bite my tongue, shake her guests' hands, and watch the parade of people until it ended.

Not even Portia's presence eased my suffering, and she knew it the moment she saw me. Unlike everyone else, she respected sorrow and kept her distance. I was aware of her without being suffocated. Ever since the two of us were kids-me eight and her nine-I'd welcomed the comfort she offered, and I'd leaned on her. Now, I wanted nothing more than time alone to tell my mother how much I loved her and how I'd miss her.

When I left here, I would be an orphan. I had been for several days, but I'd been able to avoid that reality by staying busy. Hensley and I had spent the majority of that time packing the old apartment and making funeral preparations. No seventeen-year-old should have to bury their parent; nevertheless, I was lucky to have the Shaws to fall back on. I didn't know where they were at the moment, though. Alone, I sat in one of the empty chairs and scooted it closer to my mom.

"I know you're not in pain anymore, and I'm grateful for that. But selfishly, I wasn't ready to let you go." I spoke as though she could hear me and might respond. "I can't imagine a world without your dancing and renditions of endless Beatles songs, or eating lemon pie from the diner while we talk about books."

The knot in my throat grew unbearable-large and painful. I couldn't swallow around it, and I choked on the words I needed to make sure she heard. "There won't be anyone around to remind me that copper is a beautiful color and every one of my freckles is a mark where you kissed me as a baby." My safety net from the world had been stolen. The woman who believed I was perfect-even in all my awkwardness-ripped away unjustly.

I eased off the chair, not caring if I ruined my slacks, and kneeled on the ground. Words were too messy, and tears streaked my face shamelessly. The casket still sat on the lowering device above the hole, so I pressed my cheek to the shiny, chestnut wood and sobbed. I longed for her to tell me one more time how much she loved me. I wished I could hug her and protect her. Through the tears, I croaked the lyrics to "Hey Jude," and when I finished, I wiped my eyes, kissed her goodbye, and stood to find Portia waiting for me on a bench not far off.

Over the years, Portia and the Shaws had become as big a part of my family as I had theirs. I'd never known my dad, or even his name, and Ernie stepped in to fill that role from the day I met him. Every time my mom had to go through chemo, I'd gone back into foster care, and I had gotten a family that defied all odds. They weren't the couple that people read about who appeared to be wonderful on the outside, only to find out they abused the system for money and neglected the kids in their custody. Ernie and Hensley Shaw just wanted children and hadn't been able to have any. I became an extension of the family they'd tried to have, and none of the three of them ever missed out on anything I did-even if I wasn't living with them at the time.

Regardless of how tough the last few weeks had been, Ernie, Hensley, and Portia hadn't left my side. It was an unconventional arrangement to most-thankfully, it worked for us. I'd been back and forth to their house for weeks or months at a time for the better part of a decade, and they'd welcomed me just as they always had.

When I got within a few feet, Portia stood, and I drowned in the sight of her.

"Hey, Jude." Her voice was still as sweet as spun sugar, and her smile was the stuff lipstick commercials were made of.

She slipped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my chest-even in heels, she didn't clear my shoulder. Reciprocating her embrace, I held her to me and placed my cheek on the top of her head. I welcomed the familiar smell of mint and rosemary and found comfort in the way her long hair tickled the tops of my hands on her lower back. Portia didn't try to make a hasty exit or encourage me to put on a brave face. Just as she'd done since the day we met, she accepted me exactly as I came to her-broken.

I didn't know how long we lingered in the cemetery. The quiet of the world hugged us, not allowing the wind to rustle leaves or give the birds their cue to chirp. And when it started to drizzle, I held steadfast in the same spot until water dripped from my hair and onto my face. Drenched, Portia pulled away enough to peer up so I could see her eyes and lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

"You ready?" I asked her, knowing she would stand here all day.

She nodded and took my hand. The warmth of her skin on mine was in sharp contrast to the chill of my emotions and the rain. The heat soothed a piece of me that wanted to run wild. Together, we walked away from my past and into my future. I didn't look back; my mom was gone, so there wasn't any point. I'd have to carry her in my heart from now on.

When we got into Portia's car, she shivered, undoubtedly cold from the rain. Even with her long hair plastered to her cheeks, spilling down her back, and spread across her arms and her makeup ruined by the weather, she was still the most stunning girl I'd ever known. Her beauty went beyond her slender physique and her exquisite facial features. Just past her eyes-irises the color of a green parakeet-her soul shined. As a kid, I thought the glitter was a dreamy expression. Now I knew it was a glimpse at her greatest treasure, and I prayed no one other than me ever saw it.

I cranked up the heat and then strapped on my seatbelt. Her house wasn't far, but the silence between us grew painful. "When are you leaving for school?"

She glanced at me before giving the road her attention. "Two weeks."

When the school year had ended, I thought we would have the summer to hang out-it didn't turn out that way. Since my mom had worked a lot in the past, Ernie always made sure to take me camping; we all went to the lake, and otherwise spent the majority of our time at the pool, wasting the hours away. But when my mom got sick right after summer break started, it was far worse than it had ever been. At seventeen, I didn't have to go to the Shaws', and when Mom decided not to undergo another round of chemo, I had opted to stay home. Unfortunately, that ate away the time in the sun and the annual vacation I took with Portia and her family.

Portia patted my hand. "Don't worry. I've saved all the fun stuff for us to do together."

I snickered half-heartedly. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Dorm shopping, packing, cleaning out my room." She tapped her finger on her chin the way I'd seen her do so many times before while she thought of anything she might have left out. "And if that's not enough to make you giddy, then you can help me load up all my crap and take me to school."

My groan reverberated throughout the car.

She swatted at my arm. "Oh hush. You don't have anything better to do. Your books will still be there after I'm gone."

Those last two words hit me harder than I expected-a sucker punch to the gut. My sharp inhalation clued her in.

"I didn't mean gone gone. I'm sorry, Jude."

I shook my head. "It's okay. I don't know why I'm being overly sensitive." I knew why, but I didn't want her to feel bad. "It's just going to be weird being at the Shaws' house without you there."

"I'll only be an hour away." She stopped at a red light and glanced toward me. "You can come visit. I can introduce you to college chicks, and you can drool over the campus library."

"The library alone would be worth the drive." Not that I had a car.

"What about me?" she shrieked, as though she wouldn't be the reason for any trip I made.

"Yeah, you'll be there, too."

"Consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

She tilted her nose up with a smug look on her face. Even with the smudged mascara under her lashes, she was still cute. "I'm the best consolation prize you ever won."

"Your humility is something I've longed to mirror."

Portia glared at me without any real punch in her stare. My laughing at her only caused her lips to tilt in a smirk of her own. Even on my darkest day, that smile lit up the sky.

She pulled into the driveway of the house I'd now call home. It was all familiar, from the white siding to the black shutters and the red, front door. Even the flowers and bushes could have names, they'd been around so long. Only, in the past, I'd known I would go back to our little apartment a few miles away. This was now permanent.

The alarm chimed as I opened it, and Ernie and Hensley met us in the foyer. Hensley had been a wreck for days. She'd tried to hold it together for me, but she and my mom had become close over the years. Her death hit Hensley almost as hard as it did me. Portia shut the door behind us just as Hensley swarmed me in emotion. It didn't take long for Ernie to wrap the two of us in his own awkward hug. I was seconds from losing my cool when Portia wiggled her way between Hensley and me, pressing her front to mine. My heart swelled when I peered down my nose to find her staring up at me with a wicked grin.

"Enough of all these tears. Carrie would want us to celebrate her life, not wallow in her death." Portia was right, and my mom would have high-fived her for breaking up the sobfest.

"Did you have something in mind?" I wasn't sure what Portia was up to, but I prayed she didn't lead me into a pit of darkness or allow me to get sucked into a black hole.

The four of us broke apart as she pushed her way out as though she were in the midst of an enormous crowd and suffered from claustrophobia. "Indeed, I do."

"Oh lord, Ernie. What's that child up to?" Hensley swiped at the tears on her face through a smile. She adored Portia-and me, too.

Here were two people perfectly suited to be incredible parents who were never able to have children of their own. I'd asked once why they hadn't adopted babies-they could have gotten them-and Ernie just shrugged and said, "Babies are like kittens and puppies; they're easy to find homes. But kids of all ages need love and family."

I'd thought at the time his comparison of children to animals was odd until they took Portia and me to the humane society to adopt a pet. Of course, we were both drawn to the adorable little baby animals. But the moment Portia found out that a dog-with a neon-green sign reading "Dog of the Day" on its cage-would be put to sleep if it wasn't adopted, it clicked for both of us. There was no doubt the cute, fuzzy critters would find homes, but Baker-the mutt who came home with us that day-only had hours for someone to pick him, or he would be euthanized.

We-Portia and me-were very similar to Baker. But just like that lazy, old dog, the Shaws gave us a home and more love and attention than either of us dreamed possible, although our stay outlasted the dog's. Ernie went out of his way to be a positive, male influence in every aspect of my life, and Hensley was kind and patient. They never replaced my mom, but they enriched my life. And without them, I couldn't bear to think where Portia might have landed.

The familiar riffs of the guitar and beats of the drums came from the speakers in the living room where Portia had disappeared. My eyes burned, and the knot reappeared in my throat until she came slinking into view, exaggerating each movement of her arms and legs in time with the music. The moment she started to sing the lyrics to "Come Together," my heart melted. I let the tears flow as I took her extended hand, and as I'd done with my mom so many times in the past, I danced.

Ernie and Hensley joined in, moving awkwardly on the hardwood floors. It didn't matter that we were all sad, or that Portia and I still wore wet clothes. The only thing I cared about was that people I loved surrounded me. Portia had obviously planned her "impromptu" dance session. The playlist consisted of nothing but the Beatles and only upbeat songs that kept us moving. From "Here Comes the Sun" to "Help" and every song she'd chosen in between, she never let go of my hand. The girl couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but her voice lulled my heart to peace. Cotton candy.