Read Online Why Did She Have to Die? by Lurlene McDaniel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lurlene McDaniel
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lied.
“That’s not what your teacher said. She said you did it deliberately. Why, Elly? Why would you do such a thing?” Mrs. Rowan pleaded.
“You never believe me! It’s my word against hers.”
“I believe
her
.” Mr. Rowan snapped. “I saw what you did to the restroom, remember? I believe you tripped that boy just to be mean.”
Hot tears sprang to Elly’s eyes. “So what if I did? I know I’m rotten. I know I’m not perfect like Kathy.” Her voice grew shrill. Words she couldn’t stop or control rushed out of her mouth. “Don’t you see?
I
should have died in the car wreck. Kathy was the smart one, the perfect one, the one you loved best.
I
should have died.”
She began to choke and gag over the grief catching in her throat. “Why wasn’t it me, Daddy? Why did she have to die? Why wasn’t it me instead of Kathy?”
TWELVE
T he words kept tumbling out of Elly’s mouth. She kept seeing Kathy’s hair flying over the front seat of the car. She heard again the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass.
Mrs. Rowan sprang from the sofa and caught Elly in her arms. “Oh, honey. Oh, my dear Elly. Don’t say such things. We love you, Elly. We love you.”
Her father’s face went pale, and Elly buried her face in her mother’s shoulder to avoid the pain in his expression.
“I miss her so much, Mom. I want Kathy to come home.”
“I know, Elly.” Her mother stroked Elly’s hair, smoothing the short wisps off her forehead. “We miss her, too. But, Elly, you’re as dear and precious to us as Kathy was. Don’t ever forget that.”
Elly pulled away, sniffed, and took the handkerchief her father offered her. Late afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows of the living room, casting long shadows on the pale blue carpet. The shadows danced and flickered with the movement of the wind. “It—it isn’t fair. Why did Kathy die instead of me? Why?”
“Elly.” Mrs. Rowan pulled on Elly’s hand, forcing her to look into her misted eyes. “No one can answer that question. No human mind can ever understand why bad things happen to people, why people die before their ti—” Mrs. Rowan’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued.
“All we do know is that life is for the living. You
are
here. And we are so grateful that you are.” Mrs. Rowan straightened her shoulders. “Elly, we’ve put off something for a long time, something we should have started when you were still in the hospital. There are doctors and groups of people who help families like us, families who’ve lost a child.”
Mr. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Rowan shot him a warning glance. “We should have gotten help from people like that from the very beginning, but sometimes you can fool yourself. You tell yourself, ‘Hey, I’m all right. I can handle this.’ We didn’t believe we needed to talk it out. I see now that it was a mistake. You need to talk to a counselor. We need to talk with other parents who’ve gone through this. We’ve put it off far too long, and you’ve suffered for it. We must start with a support group as soon as possible. All of us. Will you go, Elly? Please?”
Elly felt tired and drained. “Whatever you say, Mom. I’ll do anything you say.”
* * * *
“Do you know what a support group is, Elly?” The question came from Dr. Anita Nash. Elly shook her head, her mouth too dry to speak.
“It’s a group of people—in your case, other kids—who’ve also lost a loved one.”
Elly felt herself resisting the idea. She didn’t want to talk to a bunch of strange kids about her private feelings. She refused to meet Dr. Nash’s gaze. Instead, she stared across the sunny office at the diplomas hanging on the wall. The walls were coral, and there were clay pots of thick green ferns beside the golden oak furniture. The room felt cozy. Elly decided that the office suited the tall, slim psychiatrist with the dark curls and open, friendly smile.
“Am I crazy, Dr.
“That’s not what your teacher said. She said you did it deliberately. Why, Elly? Why would you do such a thing?” Mrs. Rowan pleaded.
“You never believe me! It’s my word against hers.”
“I believe
her
.” Mr. Rowan snapped. “I saw what you did to the restroom, remember? I believe you tripped that boy just to be mean.”
Hot tears sprang to Elly’s eyes. “So what if I did? I know I’m rotten. I know I’m not perfect like Kathy.” Her voice grew shrill. Words she couldn’t stop or control rushed out of her mouth. “Don’t you see?
I
should have died in the car wreck. Kathy was the smart one, the perfect one, the one you loved best.
I
should have died.”
She began to choke and gag over the grief catching in her throat. “Why wasn’t it me, Daddy? Why did she have to die? Why wasn’t it me instead of Kathy?”
TWELVE
T he words kept tumbling out of Elly’s mouth. She kept seeing Kathy’s hair flying over the front seat of the car. She heard again the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass.
Mrs. Rowan sprang from the sofa and caught Elly in her arms. “Oh, honey. Oh, my dear Elly. Don’t say such things. We love you, Elly. We love you.”
Her father’s face went pale, and Elly buried her face in her mother’s shoulder to avoid the pain in his expression.
“I miss her so much, Mom. I want Kathy to come home.”
“I know, Elly.” Her mother stroked Elly’s hair, smoothing the short wisps off her forehead. “We miss her, too. But, Elly, you’re as dear and precious to us as Kathy was. Don’t ever forget that.”
Elly pulled away, sniffed, and took the handkerchief her father offered her. Late afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows of the living room, casting long shadows on the pale blue carpet. The shadows danced and flickered with the movement of the wind. “It—it isn’t fair. Why did Kathy die instead of me? Why?”
“Elly.” Mrs. Rowan pulled on Elly’s hand, forcing her to look into her misted eyes. “No one can answer that question. No human mind can ever understand why bad things happen to people, why people die before their ti—” Mrs. Rowan’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued.
“All we do know is that life is for the living. You
are
here. And we are so grateful that you are.” Mrs. Rowan straightened her shoulders. “Elly, we’ve put off something for a long time, something we should have started when you were still in the hospital. There are doctors and groups of people who help families like us, families who’ve lost a child.”
Mr. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Rowan shot him a warning glance. “We should have gotten help from people like that from the very beginning, but sometimes you can fool yourself. You tell yourself, ‘Hey, I’m all right. I can handle this.’ We didn’t believe we needed to talk it out. I see now that it was a mistake. You need to talk to a counselor. We need to talk with other parents who’ve gone through this. We’ve put it off far too long, and you’ve suffered for it. We must start with a support group as soon as possible. All of us. Will you go, Elly? Please?”
Elly felt tired and drained. “Whatever you say, Mom. I’ll do anything you say.”
* * * *
“Do you know what a support group is, Elly?” The question came from Dr. Anita Nash. Elly shook her head, her mouth too dry to speak.
“It’s a group of people—in your case, other kids—who’ve also lost a loved one.”
Elly felt herself resisting the idea. She didn’t want to talk to a bunch of strange kids about her private feelings. She refused to meet Dr. Nash’s gaze. Instead, she stared across the sunny office at the diplomas hanging on the wall. The walls were coral, and there were clay pots of thick green ferns beside the golden oak furniture. The room felt cozy. Elly decided that the office suited the tall, slim psychiatrist with the dark curls and open, friendly smile.
“Am I crazy, Dr.
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