White Space Season 2

our loved ones up in heaven, just as he’ll keep watch over little Aubrey Heller down here on Earth.”
    Pastor Avery paused, raising his hands to the air, then turned to an older woman standing to his far left, a small mountain of silver hair piled high on her head.
    “I’d like to close with our own Glynis Mayhew on bagpipes performing ‘Amazing Grace.’”
    Jon lowered his head, listening to the bagpipes’ wail. There was something about “Amazing Grace” which reached deep into his saddest parts. He thought of Sarah, and how he would never see her again. He felt Cassidy’s hand find his, then wrapped it into his palm and squeezed, pinching his eyelids and holding them tightly closed. He thought of Emma, and wondered how much she must miss her mother. Though they had spoken of Sarah several times, it was always with caution. It seemed as if everyone was actively trying not to discuss her — as if mere mention of her mother’s name would pick at Emma’s scab, and threaten to tear the wound into something too deep for any of them to mend.
    Jon wondered, not for the first time, how much of his and Cassidy’s blooming relationship was some odd attempt by both of them to connect with Sarah by proxy.
    What am I doing?
    What are we doing?
    Is this all horribly wrong?
    What is Emma thinking of this? That her father, the man who hadn’t seen her mother in a decade, was now dating her twin sister?
    Jon wondered, like he did many times each day, if Cassidy felt as guilty as he did, and if her guilt was a similar breed to his. Perhaps part of her seeming hesitation to let them grow closer was rooted in some fear that she didn’t want Emma, or him, to see her as an invader, trying to take Sarah’s place.
    But Jon didn’t see it that way, and never would. Nor did he see any reason to think Emma would either. If anything, she seemed to be doing terrific, considering. At least for the moment, Emma seemed to need the makeshift family that was blossoming beneath her otherwise mostly gray skies.
    To Jon’s surprise, he needed it, too.
    He squeezed Cassidy’s hand tighter, turning to face her as she slowly spun her head toward him. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unspilled tears.
    Jon tried not to think of how often he looked at Cassidy, but in his head, thought Sarah .

    **

    Jon held the Toyota Blacklander door open for Emma, waited for her to climb inside, then petted her shoulder and smiled before slamming the door shut behind her. Cassidy’s door closed a second behind Emma’s, followed immediately by Houser’s.
    Jon opened his door just as his cell rang. He looked at the card in his palm. The screen read Blake Conway.
    He had been waiting for more than a month to confront his father about Warren’s accusations — that Blake was behind the plan to keep Jon from knowing he had fathered Sarah’s child, that they used Cassidy’s legal troubles as a bargaining chip, and that Blake had bought and paid Jon’s way into Hollywood.
    Blake had been on a business trip since a few days before the shootings, and Warren was evasive about when their father would return. It took all Jon’s willpower not to call his father and have their face-to-face over the phone. But he wanted — no, had to — see the look in Blake’s eyes up close when confronted.
    Now that his father was finally calling, Jon’s stomach churned.
    He lifted the glass card to his ear, camera off, not wanting his father to have the edge of seeing him.
    “Hello?”
    “Jon?”
    It wasn’t Blake. It was Mrs. Rasmussen, calling from the house.
    “Yes, Madge?”
    “Hi Mr. Conway … Jon,” he could feel her smile. “I imagine you still want to know when your father returned from his trip?”
    “Yes,” Jon said, heartbeat speeding.
    “Promise you won’t tell on me?” she asked.
    “Have I ever?”
    “No, Jonny, you haven’t.” A slight pause, then “He came back yesterday, but I wanted to wait a day to tell you, so he wouldn’t suspect it was me letting you know. If you’re going to speak with him, I suggest not waiting too long. Warren and Melinda will be in Seattle all day, so now would be a great time to stop by.”
    “Great,” Jon said. “And thanks, Madge. I promise I won’t tell.”
    “Scout’s honor?” she teased.
    “If I were a scout, or had any sense of honor, I’d say yes, but we both know better than that,” he teased back. “You’ll just have to take the word of a Hollywood scoundrel.”
    “Your word will