A Cry In the Night by Mary Higgins Clark

with her. That fool of a workman, Joe’s uncle incidentally, was rewiring the barn and he’d left the lamp slung over a nail on the wall. In a minute it was all over.”
    â€œI hadn’t realized you were with her.”
    â€œI don’t like to talk about it. Luke Garrett, Mark’s father, was here. He tried to revive her but it was hopeless. And I stood there holding the hockey stick she’d just given me for my birthday. . . .”
    Jenny was sitting on the hassock at the foot of Erich’s leather easy chair. She raised his hands to her lips. Leaning down he lifted her up and held her tightly against him. “For a long time I hated the sight of that hockey stick. Then I started to think of it as her last present to me.” He kissed her eyelids. “Don’t look so sad, Jenny. Having you makes up for everything. Please, Jenny, promise me.”
    She knew what he wanted to hear. With a wrench of tenderness, she whispered, “I’ll never leave you.”

10

    O ne morning when she was walking with Tina and Beth, Jenny spotted Rooney leaning over the picket fence at the southern end of the graveyard. She seemed to be looking down at Caroline’s grave.
    â€œI was just thinking of all the nice times I had when Caroline and I were young and Erich was little and then when Arden was born. Caroline drew a picture of Arden once. It was so pretty. I don’t know what happened to it. It disappeared right out of my room. Clyde says I was probably carrying it around like I used to do sometimes. Why don’t you come visit me again?”
    Jenny had braced herself for the question. “It’s just we’ve been so busy settling. Beth, Tina, aren’t you going to say hello to Mrs. Toomis?”
    Beth said hello, shyly. Tina ran forward and raised her face for a kiss. Rooney bent down and smoothed Tina’s hair from her forehead. “She reminds me of Arden, this one. Always jumping from one place to the next. Erich probably told you to keep away from me.Well, I can’t say I blame him. I guess I am an awful nuisance sometimes. But I found the pattern I was looking for. Can I make the jumpers for the girls?”
    â€œI’d like that,” Jenny said, deciding that Erich would have to get used to the idea that she would become friendly with Rooney. There was something infinitely appealing about the woman.
    Rooney turned so that once again she was gazing into the graveyard. “Do you get lonesome here yet?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” Jenny said honestly. “It’s different, of course. I was used to a busy job and talking to people all day, and the phones ringing and friends popping into my apartment. Some of that I miss, I suppose. But mostly I’m just so glad to be here.”
    â€œSo was Caroline,” Rooney said. “So happy for a while. And then it changed.” She stared down at the simple headstone on the other side of the fence. There were snow clouds in the air and the pines threw restless shadows across the pale pink granite. “Oh, indeed it changed for Caroline,” she whispered, “and after she was gone, it started right then to change for us all.”
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    â€œYou’re trying to get rid of me,” Erich protested. “I don’t want to go.”
    â€œSure I’m trying to get rid of you,” Jenny agreed. “Oh, Erich, this is perfectly beautiful.” She held up a three-by-four-foot oil to examine it more closely. “You’ve caught the haze that comes around the trees just before they start to bud. And that dark spot circling the ice in the river. That shows the ice is about to break up, that there’s moving water below, doesn’t it?”
    â€œYou’ve got a good eye, darling. That’s right.”
    â€œWell, don’t forget I was a fine arts major. Changing Seasons is a lovely title. The change is so subtle