As they lowered his coffin into the icy ground, I raced forward. “Stop!” The cemetery workers froze, leaving Dad only inches above the surface. I stumbled forward, my heels catching on what was left of the grass. My knees landed in front of the cold metal that marked the entrance to my father’s grave. I placed my right hand on the chilled exterior of the coffin and stifled my cry with my left. “I love you,” the whisper broke from me. “I miss you, and I don’t know what to do without you,” I cried. I dragged the frost-bitten air through my lungs. “But don’t you worry about them, not Grams, or Mom, April, or Gus. I will take care of them, I promise.”

Riley’s familiar arms surrounded me, lifting me off the ground until I was standing. I gave a small nod to the cemetery workers. They began lowering my father again, deeper and deeper into the ground. “I promise.”

Chapter Three

“Ember.” Gus shook me awake before my 7:00 a.m. alarm could blare. Sleep was great. When I was asleep, everything was normal, and this was the nightmare, but then that stupid alarm would go off, and I was back facing our “new normal.”

“Mmmm?” I mumbled, pulling my hair from my face and trying to focus my sleep-deprived eyes.

“I’m hungry.” Gus crept closer and laid his head on my pillow, inches from my face. He hadn’t brushed his teeth.

“You’re always hungry.” I tugged him closer, my hand meeting denim where I expected soft pajama pants. “Are you already dressed?”

“I have school today. The bus comes in a half hour at seven-three-zero.”

That woke me up. I climbed out of bed, secured my flyaway hair with a tie, and found a smile. “Food it is, bud.”

“We’re out.” He jetted ahead of me, taking the back stairs toward the kitchen.

“Out of what?”

The bright, open windows of the kitchen let in the morning light, and the tiles were cold on my bare feet. Coffee. Coffee would be good. I turned the Keurig on and checked the pantry while it hissed itself awake. Yeah, I don’t want to be up, either. Gus was right; we were out of cereal, oatmeal, and bagels.

We were out of everything.

When had this happened? I pulled out the last of a loaf of bread and checked the calendar on my way to the fridge. January 5. “First Day Back to School” was inscribed in Mom’s handwriting on the otherwise empty block. A week from today displayed an ominous message: “Ember back to CU for spring.”

I swallowed the panic and, instead of thinking about my departure date, reached past the doors of the fridge to grab the eggs and milk. It was also astonishingly bare. When had the food stopped being delivered? Meals had been coming in and out of this house with such frequency, it never dawned on me to actually go and buy some.

I asked Gus to check on April, and he scurried off, happy to get back to his routine. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast later, I grabbed five bucks out of the change jar for Gus’s lunch money and we headed out the door. At the bus stop, the parents were cautious around me. After all, we were now the kids with no dad, but the kids treated Gus no differently than they had before everything changed. He wasn’t dad-less Gus; he was just Gus, and it was great.

I kissed him on the forehead and sent him off, then shut the front door, coming back in the warm house. April lounged in front of the television in her pajamas. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “You should have been at school already.”

“Looking for something good to watch.” She had zero intention of moving.

“It’s a school day,” I said incredulously. She had to get her butt in gear or she wasn’t going to make it to first period on time. I knew for a fact it took seventeen minutes to get to the high school from our house.

“I’m not going.”

I ripped the remote from her hands and placed it on the farthest coffee table from her. If she wanted to fight me, at least she’d have to get off her butt to do it. “Yes, you most certainly are.”

“You’re not my mother.” Had she seriously used teenager logic on me? Maybe this was payback for all the hell I’d given my mother. “Besides, it’s a half day. They don’t really expect us to go.”

“Well, I’m your grandmother, and you will be going to school today.” Grams’s hands fastened the last piece of silver hair into her French twist as she came into the room, already dressed and accessorized with her single strand of pearls. Grams believed that class never slept. When April began to argue, Grams cut her off with a single arched eyebrow. “Your father died, not you. Go dress yourself, grab your backpack, and get to school.”

April didn’t bother fighting with her. We both knew that would get her nowhere. Instead, she got dressed then flew through the kitchen, snagging another five dollar bill out of the change jar as I filled my coffee cup with more creamer than I should have. “Have a good day, darling,” I sang to her.

She flipped me the bird in reply and slammed the front door as her punctuation.

Grams reached for the sugar, sweetening her coffee as well.

“Grams, I think we’re out of food.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” She sipped her coffee and went to catch up on the news. Her point was made; I was old enough to deal with this.

Five minutes and a hundred deep breaths later, I gently cracked open the door to my mother’s bedroom. “Mom?” I called out gently, not wanting to alarm her. Not that much could. She was speaking now, but only when spoken to. She never offered anything to a conversation, nor did she seek anyone out. Mostly, she slept. If she had dreams like I did, the ones where Dad came and told her everything would be okay, I understood. I’d rather be asleep, too.