Destiny's Chance by Cara Bristol Page B

parents’ faces, recognition flashed, but not the kind she had hoped for deep down. To them, she was an acquaintance, a friend of their daughter’s, the last person to see her alive, possibly the one they held responsible for her death since Zoe had been driving. A dagger of hurt twisted in her chest at their expressions of polite but pained welcome. Was so much tied up in a physical vessel that they couldn’t see her? She glanced at Chance, his expression shuttered. He hadn’t recognized her either. They’d had sex together, and still he didn’t suspect. All her slipups, all the differences in behavior, their passion, and she was just a body.
    Despair coiled into a tight, hard lump in her throat. Surrounded by people she knew and loved, she’d never felt more alone.
    “You’re Destiny’s friend,” her mother spoke. “You were with her…when it happened.”
    “Yes. I’m…Zoe Richards. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    Chance introduced himself and shook their hands. “Your daughter was a special woman.”
    “Thank you,” her father said. She remembered him shouting to never contact them again or he’d call the police. “How are you doing?” he asked politely.
    Fine, of course, would be a lie. She’d lost a friend, life as she’d lived it, and her family. But her parents had suffered more, and she couldn’t add to their burden by expressing her grief. “I’m…okay.”
    “I picture her going over that cliff, terrified in her last moments.” Her mother choked, and her dad wrapped his arm around her.
    Destiny had screamed in fear, but she hadn’t died. Zoe, who had been killed, never uttered a sound, almost as if she’d accepted her death before it came upon her. Destiny couldn’t leave her mother thinking her daughter’s final moments were ones of terror. She stared into her grief-stricken eyes and shook her head. “Destiny hadn’t slept well the night before and practically nodded off at lunch. She fell asleep in the car. W-we went over the side, and she never knew.”
    “Really?” Her mother grabbed her hands, hope lighting her face.
    Destiny wanted to fling herself in her mother’s arms and weep. Seek her own comfort and relieve her mother’s grief. Most likely she and the woman who had brought her into the world would never touch again. She held her mother tighter than necessary but said stoically, “Really. She didn’t suffer at all. She wasn’t afraid.”
    She stood before her, so it wasn’t a total falsehood.
    At last her father cleared his throat, and her mother released her. “Thank you,” she said.
    She glanced at her father. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please call me. I would like to help.” It was what people always said to mourners, but she meant it. From the bottom of her lying heart.
    They took their leave and seats several rows behind Laura.
    “Was Destiny asleep?” Chance asked.
    “No.” She could tell him the truth because his girlfriend sat next to him. So he thought. “I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”
    He shook his head. “You’ve earned a place in heaven.”
    She watched her parents take their place beside Laura, spied the flicker of disapproval on her mother’s face as she assessed her sister’s boldly colored attire. Destiny loved her parents, but they weren’t perfect. Weren’t even fair sometimes.
    The simple service suited her. One by one, friends and family stood and shared how she’d touched their lives. Destiny wept into a wad of tissues by the time they finished.
    A flautist presented a musical interlude of traditional mourning songs. The service neared the end with one final hymn remaining when Laura jumped up to the podium and whispered in her ear. The woman nodded and raised her flute.
    “That’s not in the program!” In the quiet, her mother’s admonition carried.
    “It is now.” Laura stared straight ahead.
    Nothing like death to widen a schism within a family.
    In several notes, Destiny recognized the