When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

Christine took a cookie, nibbling politely. “I don’t suppose the Rusty Nail is still in business, by any chance?” Missy looked surprised. “The Nail’s been closed for years. It’s a pizza place now, and a pretty good one if that’s what you’re in the mood for. I take it you’ve been to Sweetwater?” Christine nodded. “Years ago, on my honeymoon.” “Oh, nice. Is your husband traveling with you this time through?” “No, he’s . . . I’m a widow.” The word stopped her cold. It was the first time she’d said it out loud, and it surprised her how easily it had slipped from her tongue. Missy reached across the counter to give her hand a squeeze. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. And you, so young. Was it sudden?” “Yes. He was—” She paused, realizing she was about to say too much. “He drowned.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either—at least not all of it. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to dislodge the images that had been haunting her for days. Had he been conscious? Had he struggled, and if so, for how long before the water had finally filled his lungs? Missy’s gray-green eyes filled with sympathy. “You poor thing. I have a friend who lost her husband a year ago, and I’ve seen what she’s gone through. I know it’s hard in the beginning, but it does get easier. Tomorrow will be better, and then the day after that. As long as you have friends, you can get through anything.” Christine managed what she hoped would pass for a smile as she reached for the registration form. She was grateful ...