It was a quiet afternoon. I sat on my bed, sorting books while Audrey arranged her dolls on the carpet beside me.
“Guess what Audrey?” I asked.
“What?” Her head popped up over the edge of the bed.
“Ella and Kate are coming home in two days!”
“Two days?” Her weary eyes widened.
“Yes, two.”
Suddenly her eyes glazed; she looked away, abstractedly, then sighed. “O,” she said, turning her eyes back to me, “and Olivia won’t be with them?”
It was half a question, half a lament - one little note of protest, testing the finality of the absence she had learned to call 'death.'
“No,” I said, my voice quavering, “she won’t.”
That night at dinner Audrey prayed: "Dear Jesus, thank you that Ella and Kate are coming home soon. And please help me and Evie to be patient about having our princess dolls. And please help Becca and Brice to be patient about seeing Livia again. Because I know they still cry.
Amen"
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