Authors: Patricia Wallace
Epilogue
Katy loved Los Angeles.
It felt wonderful to be home. Her Aunt Georgia had taken over her bedroom, and she had to sleep on the couch, but she would have gladly slept on the floor if it meant being home.
And away from Winslow, or what remained of it.
They’d spent five days in Leland, which was nearby, so that they could attend Jill’s funeral. She guessed the reason it took so long was because there were so many funerals going on.
But it was the first funeral Katy’d been to—her mother hadn’t wanted to go to her grandfather’s—and even though she’d seen lots of them in the movies, she hadn’t known what it would be like in real life. It turned out not to be too bad.
Everyone wore black or dark colors, and Aunt Georgia had even worn a veil.
The casket was small and white. And, she knew, empty. There wasn’t a “viewing,” of course. A framed photograph of Jill—her last school picture?—was displayed nearby.
The organ music was nice, kind of somber, but it helped cover the sounds of people sniffling.
There had been all kinds of flowers in the church, and the combined fragrance of them was nearly overwhelming. Katy had been relieved when that part was over and they could go outside for a breath of fresh air.
They gathered around the gravesite, and the minister read from the Bible.
Some of the words were familiar to her.
Some, the wind carried away.
Her mother had sat by Aunt Georgia, holding her aunt’s hand between both of hers. Dave sat on the other side, but he didn’t take Aunt Georgia’s other hand.
After the ceremony, Katy had walked behind them, and though she hadn’t tried to listen, she overheard what they said.
“Georgia, I don’t know what people have been telling you, but there’s nothing between me and Tanya.”
“It doesn’t matter,” her aunt had said in a voice made husky by tears. “I think we both know there hasn’t been anything between us either.”
Dave hadn’t gotten into the limousine with them when they left. When Katy had looked out the rear window, she saw him still standing there.
It was sad.
But now there was the three of them, and she was home in LA, and everything was going to be all right.
Except for one thing, which kind of still bothered her. She didn’t know who to tell, or if she should.
The night before, when she and Jill had been playing, Jill had said something that just stuck with her. At the time it hadn’t meant anything, but now . . .
“I’m not the only one,” Jill had said. “There are others.”
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