Pulling up to the house, a curtain made of thick material was now draped across the living room window, It was almost the color of the sky, and was perfect for keeping out sunlight and prying eyes. The change wasn't unusual, if Hank couldn't take the generosity of others or how the house had been left, but also worrisome if he had been living here the entire three months she had been gone.

"That wasn't there before the funeral." Wordy pointed towards the window with a raise of his eyebrow as they walked closer towards the house.

"No, it wasn't." Ed peered over the red brick wall that enclosed a small concrete patio, two cherry red recliners sitting to the side of a small garden now lined with weeds. "I was hoping Donna would be here, but not at the same time as Hank."

"Then let's hope she doesn't show up if Hank is indeed here at the house." Wordy lowered his voice, even though the pounding of Ed's fist on the door seemed to drown out his words.

Yet, nothing seemed to happen after several minutes, so they both shrugged and were about to turn back towards the steps leading back to the car, when the unmistakable sound of metal clicking was followed by the door opening to a haggard looking Hank.

If they didn't know better, they would have mistaken him for someone living on the streets. His hair looked disheveled as if it hadn't seen a brush in days. There were purple bags underneath his eyes that clearly showed he hadn't slept well since the funeral. Not to mention his clothes were alarmingly baggy underneath his thin frame, and his once happy manner had now been replaced with a look of defeat and sadness.

"Ed." He greeted as he leaned his tired body against the door frame. "What can I do for you?"

"We were just coming by to see if you had a few minutes to talk."

"Sure." He looked reluctant as he opened the door wider so they could enter the house. "Give me a few minutes to change. I got here late last night." He disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom, which left time for Ed and Wordy to look around.

The curtains were drawn, casting a certain darkness upon every room on the main floor. Walls and shelves were void of any pictures symbolizing the love Hank and Donna once had for each other, making the house seem even emptier than it already was.

"This isn't right." Wordy stated quietly as he and Ed continued to look around the house. Every step they took finally revealed the toll Donna's death had taken on Hank: a fist-sized hole in the wall between the lower shelf and television, frames stacked against the banisters, an open duffel bag with scattered items all across the table.

As the bedroom door squeaked open, Ed and Wordy leaned against the back of the couch, letting the situation sink in. Hank emerged in a red colored dress shirt and jeans passing behind them as he opened the curtain facing the yard.

"Sorry, I got in late last night or I would have called." Stepping to the side of them, he walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. "You said you needed to talk about something?"

"There's been a development in Donna's case, and I think you're going to want to sit down for this one." Ed addressed seriously as he walked in strides towards the table.


July 17, 2011

They both stared at me as if I had grown a pair of wings. The more seconds that went by, the more I wish I had; then at least I would have the option to open the car door and fly far away. However, both Sophie and Shelley had been great friends, so I know they were more shocked out of concern more than anything.

Sophie parked abruptly in the farthest parking spot on the side of the gas station and carefully unhooked her seat belt. The car was absolutely silent as they figured out what to say next, and I turned my head to stare out at the cars rushing down the highway.

As I did, I wiped away a few tears as I got lost in my own thoughts. What had I done to deserve losing this baby, when all I wanted to be was a mother?

"Donna." Sophie's voice broke through my thoughts before I could go on. Her gentle touch on my shoulder broke through my tough demeanor-everything I had been holding in for months finally came flooding through. She said nothing else but my name and held me close as I cried for several minutes.

It didn't seem fair I had lost this baby that was no longer inside of me. It consumed me to the point I really had to focus when I was on the job or I could cause harm to myself or my teammates. I realized at this point I had been selfish to not tell anyone, especially to the team I had once been on. For that, I cried harder than I had in a very long time.

"Ah, I needed that." I sniffled after another few minutes had passed by. It was true. I felt the weight lift off my shoulders. "Thank you."

"You would do it for us." Sophie shrugged with a pleasant smile. "In fact, you have many times. I don't know what we would have done without your wisdom or your help."

"I'm not sure about that."

"I agree with Sophie." Shelley reached into her purse and handed me a clean tissue from her stash . "You're the person we vent to when we have a problem, and you talk to our children in a way that we can't. Oh, and you're always the person we can call in the middle of the night to watch our children when we have to take one to the emergency room."

"Isn't that the truth?" Sophie gushed as she placed her hand over mine and gave it a tight squeeze. "If you weren't around, who would Clark talk to then?"

"I guess I never thought about it that way."

"You mean the world to us, Donna." Sophie gave my hand a tight squeeze again. "Don't ever forget that."

"Yes. We couldn't have raised our children without you." Shelley stated with a grin as if she tried not to laugh. "You know what they say?"

"What?"

"It takes a village to raise children. So, when you have that child you've always wanted, we'll be right there to help you raise them." Leaning towards the passenger seat, Shelley gave my arm a gentle squeeze and winked. "And I'm sure you'll have a lot of helpers when you do."

"Yeah, a lot of hands just itching to hold that baby of yours. I'm betting your baby's feet won't touch the ground for many many months."

"And if I can't have one?"

"Take your pick." Shelley chimed in with a comforting laugh as she finally leaned back in her seat. "They're all part yours anyway."