June races through the sprawling colony, her breath coming fast as she gathers what she needs. The house, bought with Charles nearly twenty years ago, feels cavernous without him.
Where's my phone? she thinks, scanning the room before spotting it plugged into the charger. She yanks it free. Tonight is Lily's first recital, and she plans to record every second—not just for herself, but for Meg, her sister, who's tied up running the farm miles away. They send pictures back and forth, trading glimpses of their lives. It's their way of staying close despite the distance.
June checks the clock. We have to go. She strides to the bottom of the stairs, looking up. "Hurry, girls! We don't want to be late."
Lilly and Millie—her twins—couldn't be more different. Lilly inherited her father's musical talent. Millie, like June, couldn't carry a tune, not that the child cared. Millie loves sports, preferring jerseys over dresses and ponytails over styled waves. Lilly, on the other hand, adored fashion, always experimenting with hairstyles and color palettes.
June glances at her watch. We should've left ten minutes ago.
"Coming, Mom!" The twins shout in unison from upstairs.
June sighs, shaking her head. They'll never be on time. She told them hours ago to get ready, yet here they are—late, again. We wouldn't be running late if Charles were alive. He was a little too strict sometimes, but the girls listened to him. When he spoke, they obeyed, and there wasn't ever any backtalk or any delays.
If only I had that kind of authority.
A lump rises in her throat. She wipes at her face. Nearly a year since Charles' heart attack, and still the grief comes in waves—crashing down when she least expects it. She tries to be strong for the girls, to hold onto some sense of normalcy, but some days, pretending is exhausting.
She checks her watch again. "We have to—"
Her words falter in her throat.
Lilly stands at the top of the staircase, glowing.
"My baby is growing up," June thinks, blinking back tears. Soon, her daughters will be teenagers.
"You look beautiful, honey."
"She hopes Roger will notice her," Millie teases, racing past her sister on the stairs. Lilly flushes. She's had a crush on Roger since grade school, though he hardly knows she exists. But tonight, she's determined to change that.
"I'm going to make it impossible for him not to notice me."
Millie grins, checking her reflection one last time before heading downstairs.
June sighs. "You're both too young to even think about boys."
Millie rolls her eyes. "We're not babies, Mom."
"I know. But you're not old enough to date either."
"Some of my friends have been dating for over a year."
"And half of them will end up teen moms," June argues.
"It's not like it was in your day—hooking up with every guy you date."
"Millie!"
"Well, it's true. I heard you and Dad talking about your younger, more—promiscuous days."
Before June can scold her, Lilly cuts in: "Shotgun!"
Millie groans. "She rode shotgun last time!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!" Blocking the car door, Millie crosses her arms. "Tell her it's my turn, Mom."
June exhales. "I don't have the time or patience for this. Both of you—back seat. Now."
Lilly stomps her foot. "That's not fair!"
"Yeah," Millie mutters, climbing in with a huff. She slams the door. Lilly does the same.
As June backs out of the driveway, she glances in the rearview mirror. Arms crossed. Faces are stormy. The tension is thick enough to cut.
At least it'll be a quiet ride.
She turns onto the road and checks the clock. I'm going to have to speed if I want to get us there on time.
Gripping the wheel, she presses the pedal down, sailing through an intersection as the yellow light flickers red.
"Look out!"
Lilly's scream shredding the silence.
June jerks her gaze to the right—just in time to see the semi barreling toward them.
She slams the gas. The diesel clips the back end of the car.
They spin.
And spin.
And spin.
Rain drizzles from the starless sky as first responders work the wreckage.
Millie wakes to the sharp scent of antiseptic. Her body is strapped to a gurney. She then hears the distant wail of sirens. The ambulance lights blind her as she glances around.
"Lilly?" she croaks.
Lilly is sobbing beside her.
Licking her parched lips, Millie asks. "What's wrong?"
Lilly lifts a shaky finger, pointing outside. "They let Mom die."
Millie turns her head. Her mother lies motionless on the pavement, blood pooling beneath her. A paramedic stands over her, shaking his head.
Panic surges through every inch of the child's body. "Don't just stand there—do something! Please, do something!"
The ambulance doors slam shut.
"No!" Millie thrashes against the straps.
An EMT steps forward, placing a gentle hand on her arm. In a calm voice he says, "We did all we could."
Millie barely hears him.
Lilly leans in close, whispering something.
Millie's tears stop.
She turns to the paramedic, eyes steady.
She smiles. And nods.