Page 14 of Hunter or Hunted

Behind her desk, Colleen slowed her shuffling of papers. I’d seen that woman frown many times, but this was the first I saw so much empathy in it.

Junie held up her beaded friendship bracelet. “When we made these at the nursery one day, because Mommy was at work, we both got one of these little beads.” She held it closer to my face, proudly displaying a purple butterfly wing. “Hers is pink. When you put them beside each other, they make a whole butterfly.”

Blinking at the tears in my eyes, I forced a smile. All I could manage was, “That’s pretty.”

“So that’s what I’m gonna do with this one.” Gazing down at it, the light that shined in those hazel eyes was so sweet, so innocent. “One half will be pink, and one half will be purple. Just like our butterflies.”

Those words had just kicked me in the gut. I couldn’t form any of my own.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Junie asked. “I made her another bracelet, too. And a card.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Junie looked over her shoulder at me. Smile dissipating, she cocked her head to the side. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I choked out. That was all I could choke out.

“Then why are you crying?” she asked.

I hadn’t realized I was. The tears hadn’t drizzled over yet. Not until I blinked a few times. Swatting them away, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Must be allergies or something. I, um⁠—”

The door to Rhiannon’s office swung open. Simone walked out with Rhiannon at her tail.

Thank God, because I didn’t know where the hell to go from here.

“Look, Mommy!” Junie flipped the cookie around for Simone to see. “Guess who I’m decorating this cookie for!”

Ugh. A gut punch all over again.

“I don’t know, you tell me, baby.” Simone squatted on the other side of the coffee table for a better view. “Is that a butterfly?”

“Yep! It’s for Delilah. She loves butterflies.” Junie smiled down at it, then looked back up at her mom. Simone’s mouth, much like my own, hung open. Silent, wordless. “If I decorate it now, can we bring it down to her at the nursery? I think it would make her so happy.”

Standing a few feet behind Simone, Rhiannon’s shoulders sunk. She glanced at Junie, then at me, and the edges of her lips dropped into the heaviest, most pain-filled expression.

Simone looked at me, and then at Rhiannon. Mouth still hanging open, she gave the slightest shake of her head.

Rhiannon cleared her throat and kneeled beside Simone. “You know, we actually need to tell you something, sweetheart.”

Picking up on the tone, Junie carefully laid the cookie on the table. “About Delilah?”

Rhiannon nodded.

“Is…” Slowly, her gaze ticked around the room. She looked at her mom, and Rhiannon, then Colleen, then me. Ever so slightly, her brows creased in the center. All that innocent, joyful light in her eyes flickered out. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah.” Rhiannon reached out for her hand. Junie relaxed into her touch. “I’m so sorry to tell you this. I know you really liked hanging out with Delilah down at the nursery. But… she died, sweetheart. Delilah’s dead.”

Every hair on my body rose to its ends.

To hear it phrased that way, so bluntly, so quickly, ached deep in my chest. I had said it half a dozen times by now, and it still didn’t feel real.

But I understood Rhiannon’s verbiage. When my mom died, that’s how the nurses had told me too. They hadn’t said she passed away, or that she was gone, because those were too elusive. Later, while reading a book on grief, a therapist explained why they phrased it like that. Because it was easier to comprehend immediately. Pass away or gone was, at the very least, momentarily confusing.

Dead made it clear. There was no way to inform someone of something like this easily. It hurt no matter how you said it. Better to be concise than to confuse.

“She…” Tears gathered in Junie’s eyes. “She’s dead?”

Teary-eyed as well, Rhiannon nodded. “She is. I’m so sorry, honey. I know how much you loved her.”