MEL WATCHED AN HOUR later as her mother paced around the room that had been Eunice Lafferty’s home for a half-dozen years. “We should go,” she said to Faye. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”
“No,” Faye answered. “She’s spent most of her life alone, in places like this. I’m not leaving her now until the funeral home comes for her.”
Mel stepped away from the wall she’d been leaning against near her grandmother’s bed and walked to the room’s only window. Outside, the sun was missing, covered over by thick gray clouds. “Is it supposed to rain today?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Probably,” came the response, as Faye sank into a chair she’d already been in and out of multiple times.
Mel thought of Dana. They ought to be nearing the Ohio line by now. She tried to push worrying about her wi
