No, he was the chief pilot.
Well, my sister got that wrong. We’ll be there after work.
Iris’s mom comes by around four and invites the kids to her home for dinner. Before they leave, she summons me to the kitchen. We’ve gotten to know each other through cookouts, pool parties and other occasions over the last two years.
She’s an older version of Iris, with darker brown skin and her daughter’s sweet dark eyes that look at me now with affection and concern. “I’m torn about not being here for her,” she says softly so she won’t be overheard, “but I figured what she needs most is someone to care for the kids. I packed bags for them, and we’ll get them to school in the morning and pick them up tomorrow.”
“That’s exactly what she needs. I’ll be here, and the other Wild Widows are coming, too. We’ll get her through this.”
“She’s lucky to have such amazing friends.”
“It’s not luck. She’s an incredible friend to us, always there when we need her. This is the least we can do for her.”
She pats my arm affectionately. “Michael took such pride in his work,” she says tearfully. “I just can’t imagine how the crash could’ve been his fault.”
“As I said to Iris, we can be certain he did everything within his power to prevent it. Even the best of pilots can be outmatched by their circumstances and Mother Nature.”
She sighs deeply. “I suppose so. This is going to crush her when she was doing so much better.”
“We won’t let it crush her. I promise.”
“Thank you for being here.”
“Of course.”
Iris hugs and kisses her babies and sends them off for the night with her mom.
Tyler hangs back after his grandmother walks out with his sisters. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“I am, honey. Mommy’s just having a rough day.”
“Because my daddy went to heaven?”
“Yes, sweetie. That never stops being hard.”
“I know.” He hugs her tightly. “Call me at Grandma’s if you need me.”
“I’ll do that. Love you so much.”
“Love you, too. Are you sure you’ll be okay if we go?”
“I’m positive. Mr. Gage is here, and my other friends are coming, too.”
“I’ll make sure your mommy is okay,” I tell the cute little guy.
“Thank you,” he says with more wisdom and understanding than any seven-year-old should have. He scampers off to join his grandmother and sisters.
I go to the door to make sure he’s safely in the car and wave to Iris’s mom as they drive off.
7
GAGE
“Thank God for parents,” Iris says when I return to her.
“For sure.” Mine were so devastated to lose Nat and the girls that they weren’t much good to me, but that’s okay. Plenty of others were there for me, and my parents have rallied as time has gone on, and the shock of the loss has receded somewhat—as much as it ever will.
She looks over at me. “And thank God for wonderful friends who come running.”