The Ravine (12 page)

When Mitch entered the house, he hugged Rosemary, and she told him Carolyn was upstairs lying down.

“How is she?”

Rosemary shook her head and said, “Not good.” She was very worried about her daughter.

When Mitch walked into the room, Carolyn gazed at him with a look of utter disbelief. They simply held each other and cried.

Finally, Mitch got up and said he would call—whom? Not Tony, given the circumstances. Rachel’s mother and father were gone. He would call Maryann—she would know about the arrangements. Maryann had now moved out, but had been legally adopted by Rachel and Danny; so, in essence, they were her parents and Evan and Christopher were her brothers.

“Do you know if we have her number, honey?”

Carolyn shook her head and said, “It’s in the address book downstairs.”

Mitch reached Maryann and learned that the funeral service would be in three days, and that there would not be a wake. “I don’t think anyone could bear it, Mitch.”

She suggested that he contact Tom Schroeder, the man who worked for Tony and was friends with Danny, and who first discovered the murders. She believed he knew someone in the police department who was planning to sit down with her and a few other close friends at Tom’s house tomorrow afternoon.

“I know Rachel would want you guys to be there,” she said. “I’ll see you then.” Maryann gave him the number, but her monotone made it obvious she was as stunned as everyone else.

He went back to the bedroom and told Carolyn about the plans for the next day. Little by little Carolyn was starting to accept that this had really happened and knew that the only thing to do was to help with the plans however she could. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through this, but she was going to be strong for her friend. She didn’t know how she felt about Danny, however. It was too early and there were just too many unanswered questions.

When Carolyn came downstairs her mother offered her the cup of coffee she never got that morning, and they sat in the kitchen in silence. Joe had come over while Mitch was upstairs.

Mitch stepped outside the kitchen door into the breezeway and dialed Tom Schroeder.

When he picked up, Mitch introduced himself and explained how close they were to the Turner family. Tom reminded Mitch they had met once at Danny and Rachel’s place, at a Christmas party.

“Mitch,” Tom said, “you guys should know that Danny and Rachel talked about what good friends you all were, and how much they missed being near you. Danny mentioned to me that you were sort of like another big brother to him.”

Mitch didn’t quite know what to say. He was like a big brother to a man who had just killed his wife and child. He didn’t feel like a very good friend at that moment, so he changed the subject.

“Tom, I understand that someone from the Akron police department is going to be at your house tomorrow. Is that right?”

“Yeah, I know the homicide detective on the case, and he agreed to talk with the family and a few close friends for a few minutes and answer any questions we might have. You wouldn’t believe how many TV trucks and reporters have shown up. Everyone thought it was best not to make the family walk in and out of the police station.”

Mitch thought it was unusual that the police would do this, particularly so soon after the crime. But he had a million questions, and his nature was to pursue things until he thoroughly understood them, so, as much as he dreaded the meeting, he was grateful that he and Carolyn were asked to attend. He was relieved Tom did not choose to go into the details of his discovery that morning. Obviously this was a subject no one wanted to go near.

He jotted down all of the pertinent information, got the directions, thanked Tom, and said he would see him at two the next afternoon. It was a relief to talk about something like directions, rather than the reason for the call.

Joe, Rosemary, Carolyn, and Mitch chatted about the upcoming plans and how difficult the next few days were going to be for everyone. This was safer territory than discussing the actual murders; that subject—all the whys and what ifs—would come in the future. Now was too soon.

Mitch and Carolyn each knew they had a serious chore in front of them—how and what to tell their three boys—but neither was ready to discuss it. It hung in the air, like a giant balloon, unspoken, yet on everyone’s mind.

Finally, Joe said, “I know you two are thinking about what to tell the boys. I know you have a policy of always telling the truth, and I won’t pretend I know what to do, or that it’s my place to give advice. The only advice I’ll give is that the two of you pray for guidance before you speak with them.”

“Dad, do you think we have to tell them now?” Carolyn asked, ignoring the fact that her father had just said he didn’t know what to do. She always went to him with her problems, and he and her mom always gave her solid advice. For example, the first time Mitch came to the house to pick her up, Joe, who was naturally suspicious of young men around his daughters, let Mitch babble on without saying anything in response. Rosemary instantly liked him.

When they got to the car, Mitch said, “Whew, I hope I didn’t say anything too stupid. Your dad just looked at me and didn’t say anything, but I think your mom liked me.”

Carolyn laughed and said, “He liked you. If he didn’t, you would have known.”

That night when she came home, her father was sitting on the porch, waiting up.

“Hi, Dad, what are you doing up so late?”

“Waitin’ for you. I wanted to tell you something. That fellow, Mitch, do you like him?”

“I really do, Dad. I think I might actually love him.”

He looked at her and smiled. “That’s good, because I stayed up tonight to tell you I think he’s a keeper. He seems like a fine young man to me.” That was all. With that he got up and walked into the house and up to bed, and Carolyn watched his rocking chair sway to and fro until it stopped.

She looked up at him now and waited, hoping he would encourage her and Mitch to wait to speak with the boys.

Joe wasn’t given to needless sentiment, but he was in foreign territory and knew bad news didn’t get better with age. “I don’t think it’s going to get any easier in a few days, and it’s possible they will find out from someone else.”

Mitch agreed. “Honey, we’ll speak with them tonight after dinner. They’ll know something is up anyway, and we’ll be in Akron at least until Monday.”

Joe and Rosemary decided it was time to let Carolyn and Mitch be alone, and so they hugged them and said good-bye at the front door. Fortunately the boys could stay with their grandparents while Mitch and Carolyn were gone, and they would know how to handle their concerns.

Mitch and Carolyn looked at each other across the table. “As usual, your dad gave us some good advice,” he said. She nodded. “I mean about praying for guidance,” he added.

“Mitch, I’m not ready to talk to God just yet. Can you do it?”

Dinner was an odd affair, and as Mitch suspected, the kids knew something was up. Luke, their eleven-year-old, noticed his mom had been crying, and asked her why. She tried to put him off by saying it was just the change in seasons, and her allergies were acting up, but at dinner when Carolyn suddenly excused herself, the pretense started to crumble.

“Dad, what’s going on? Are you and mom getting a divorce like Tommy’s parents?” Luke asked. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“No, son, nothing like that. Let me get Mom, so we can have a chat.”

Mitch knew the moment had finally come, and said another silent prayer for God to put the right words in his mouth as he went to retrieve
Carolyn. Their three boys thought of Danny and Rachel more as a big brother and sister than as friends. Heck, they even called them by their first names. Rachel and Danny had insisted on that. And Evan and Christopher were like family as well. You couldn’t be closer without being blood relatives.

Carolyn was in the upstairs bathroom. Mitch could tell that she was inconsolable. It broke his heart to do it, but he tapped on the door and told her it was time to talk to the kids. They couldn’t wait any longer. Carolyn walked out, nodded bravely, and said, “Tell me one thing, Mitch. How, just
how
, do you tell your children one of their friends is dead, and that he was murdered by his father, who also killed his wife and then committed suicide? None of this makes sense, even to an adult, let alone to three small children.”

“I don’t know. But we’ll do our best.”

When they sat down at the kitchen table, all three boys were wide-eyed and clearly frightened. Their nine-year-old, Joey, thought for sure Mrs. Furlong had called his mom like she said she would if he got out of his seat one more time, and six-year-old Frankie thought they were going to have to move because one of the kids in his kindergarten class had to move and he was crying about it all that morning. Frankie didn’t really know what “moving” meant, but he knew it wasn’t good, and he hoped that wasn’t why his mom and dad looked so serious.

Luke was just confused and worried.

“Listen, boys, we have some really bad news we have to tell you,” Mitch started, “and, well, there just isn’t any easy way to say it.” Uncharacteristically, the three boys were silent. Carolyn’s sobs were the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Mitch took a deep breath to steady himself and said, “Danny, Rachel, and Evan died today.”

Now that it was out there, the news was greeted with a chorus of confused questions all around the table. Frankie started to cry; then the
other two boys followed suit. Finally, Luke turned to his mother for confirmation and said, “Mom, is Dad right? Are they really dead?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s really true.”

“What . . . what happened?” he replied as his lip started to quiver.

Carolyn wished for any other answer than the one she had to give. A plane crash, car accident, house fire, even that they were murdered by some stranger—as awful as all of those explanations would have been, they paled in comparison to the truth. But she and Mitch had agreed they owed their children the truth. She tried to be honest while she softened the blow, but there really wasn’t a way to sugarcoat the reality regardless of what she said, so she told them in as few words as possible.

“Danny was sick,” she began. “I mean sick like in his mind, and he shot Rachel and Evan, and then he was so sad about what he did that he killed himself.” Once again, Carolyn had the sense that someone else was talking while she was saying these things, that she was watching herself sitting at the kitchen table telling her children this horrible news.

It took almost a half hour of answering questions, hugging, and crying, and then all five of them curled together on the couch and held each other. After a little while, they all sat quietly; even little Frankie (who was known for talking nonstop) was speechless, because words were inadequate at that moment. Eventually, the family headed upstairs to go to bed.

Finally the boys climbed in their beds, and said their nightly prayers. Each asked God to bless the souls of Danny, Rachel, and Evan. When it was Frankie’s turn, he looked at his father who was kneeling beside him.

“Dad, is it okay to ask God to forgive Danny for what he did?”

“Sure it is, son. We know that with God all things are possible, and Jesus died for all of our sins, so we can all be forgiven.” He sounded to himself a little like a preacher reciting something of which he was trying to convince himself.

“Okay, then . . . God, I know Danny did a really bad thing today, and I don’t know why he did it, but I hope that when he tells you he’s sorry, you will forgive him and let him go to heaven. Amen.”

Mitch averted his eyes while he pulled the covers around Frankie and kissed him on the forehead.

While Carolyn and Mitch dressed for bed, they made small talk about how exhausted they were and tried to feign a conversation that was in the realm of normal, reaching for any topic other than the black cloud that had descended upon their home that day. Both in their private thoughts were grateful this horrible day was finally coming to an end, but dreaded the night and what lay ahead in the days to come.

They settled their heads on their pillows, but through the silent language of old friends, agreed they were not yet ready to turn out the light. Sleep was not likely to come to either of them, despite the fact they were entirely spent, so they lay there for several minutes, simply holding hands, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the pain to subside. But it didn’t.

Just as Mitch reached over to turn out the light, he noticed Luke standing at the door. His two younger brothers then appeared behind him and they stood in a cluster. Each clutched his respective pillow, blanket, and favorite stuffed animal. With the innocence, honesty, and wisdom that only children possess, they had devised the best and perhaps only plan that would allow their family to navigate the darkness and safely arrive at daybreak.

The oldest brother, Luke, spoke for all three: “Mom, Dad, can we sleep in here with you tonight?”

C
HAPTER
8

Reality

Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver
.