Pamela was sitting still, her hands on her lap, looking through the window, lost in thought. She was also having a sense of deja vu – except it was real. Her mother's body had been transferred from the hospital to the morgue, just like her dad had, weeks ago and she'd been there to witness it. She shut her eyes against the fresh wave of anguish that swept through her. Tears rolled down her eyes as she recalled how painful it'd been to see her mom so lifeless and still.

Even if she didn't want to admit it, she was feeling so lonely and wished she had been born a normal child, who lived in a small cottage with a picket fence, taking care of chickens and sheep and milking cows. She wished she had friends to be with her, someone to lean on.

She wished she'd never been home schooled, whished the few friends that she could count on one finger which she made in college were not so far away; she'd hardly kept up with them after she moved back home. She wished she'd taken friendship more seriously than she had, but it wasn't her fault, was it?

Being unable to go out with her friends as her dad had ordered, she began to feel like an outsider anytime they came together to discuss their exploits. Soon, she started to feel excluded because they never did anything in common, and that, therefore, led to them having nothing to say but greetings. It made her feel she wasn't part of them anymore and so when college ended, there was no need to keep calling and pretending they would have some "remember when's " to reminisce about.

"Pamela dear?"

She whipped around to see her mother's friends: Sally, June, and Bree. Without saying anymore, Sally and June moved towards her, their eyes brimming with tears. They wrapped her in an embrace. It was a gesture of love but Pamela couldn't breathe, especially when June – with her very generous bosom – hugged her once more. Sally on the other hand that was graced with frizzy reddish-grey or greyish-red hair unintentionally threw her hair into Pamela's mouth. It took all the strength she had to swallow her spittle to say thank you to their very mushy and teary condolences.

Bree, a British, who was the most civilized of the trio – always have been from the outset – didn't hug Pamela but squeezed her arms affectionately. Bree had always been the perfectionist: not a single blonde hair out of place, her purse always hung on her shoulders, and her skirts were always without creases. Pamela wouldn't be surprised if Bree didn't hug her because she didn't want to ruin her perfectly ironed clothes – if only her life was as smooth as her dress.

Urgh! Pamela stop! Why are you bringing such a sadist?

At least her mother had not been alone like her – that was the most important thing. It was unfair of her to criticize her mother's friends because no one was perfect, and the beauty of friendship lay in merging each and everyone's imperfections to create a whole universe of love, tolerance, and understanding.

Pamela genuinely smiled at them, tears filling her eyes. She was so grateful her mom had been a part of that universe.

She offered them drinks but they refused. When they were leaving, Pamela walked them to the door and thanked them again.

"The cops will find him, honey," Sally said, using her hands to unsuccessfully pat down her frizzy curls that were standing in the hot July evening air.

"Yes, they will," June said fiercely. "He will pay. I will post his face on my Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Quora, Telegram, WhatsApp, Google Plus, Pinterest, YouTube, Snapchat –"

Pamela was horrified. "Oh my goodness, no! Thank you –" She held June's hands. "– so much, June, but I want this to be as private as possible."

June nodded while Sally snorted. "She's not on any of those platforms."

Bree shot Sally a look. "Snorting in public is rather unladylike don't you think?" Her British accent made her sound like a judge to Pamela.

"I am!" June defended, scowling at Sally.

"Whatever," Sally said, and Pamela was not sure if the reply was for June or Bree.

"I think," Bree began and continued, "that the hospital should be sued. Their incompetence cost us our dear friend."

Pamela swatted at a mosquito that swarm past her ears. "Yeah, you're right it's just... I don't think I'm ready to face that yet, you know. It's all just too much, I just want to focus on getting him and putting him in jail where he can't hurt anyone else."

"You're right," Bree said, her eyes sad.

"Okay, we'll leave you now," June said smiling.

"Bye honey," Sally said, while Bree simply waved.

Pamela stood by the door watching their cars drive off. They, funny enough, came in separate cars. She smiled. What was it with rich women?

"Miss?"

It was their housekeeper and cook, Florence. She was standing at the door. Pamela turned to look at her.

"You need to come inside, it's getting dark. Besides, the mosquitos here are very fierce. I was hiking just last week with my husband and we had to cover ourselves in bug dope with 100% DEET. Still, after about twenty minutes, we had to reapply because the insects were fierce, and despite the heat, we had to wear long-sleeve shirts to keep them away."

Pamela started to laugh.

"Not just that, we added a head net. Can you imagine Henry in a head net and hiking boots?"

"Okay, I get the picture. Let's go in."

"By the way, " Florence said as they entered the house. "I want you to come with us, Henry and I are going for one of those bear-watching flights – after all these are over, of course."

"I don't know, really." Pamela was thinking of a way to politely refuse.

"Please, it'll be really good if you go out and experience something like that. Or we could go somewhere nice to eat or something. You need to be around people; you need company."

Just as Pamela was about to speak, the revving sound of a car engine was heard in the parking lot and Pamela opened the door again, stepping out. Florence did too.

"Speaking about company," she muttered.

It was a black van and Pamela would have been frightened if she hadn't spotted Cody climbing down, Peter and... Devlin in tow. Okay. It was about time they spoke to each other again. It's fine, Pamela. Your knees don't have to turn to jelly at the sights of him.... your heart does not have to beat twice as fast when he is near. Don't. Just behave. Please. Okay, deep breaths.

"Hey," That was Peter. He hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. "Are you okay?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Yeah."

"Really?" Devlin asked.

She turned sideways to look at him and instantly regretted it. He looked so damned good. He was standing like a friggin statue, his arms crossed, just like.... just like the day of her dad's funeral. He looked tired, and exhausted, and angry, but it only served to make him look good enough to eat. He looked like had hadn't shaved since yesterday that she last saw him, and his stubble of a beard made him look very appealing. Her heart reached out to him, hoping he was no longer mad at her.

"Well?" Peter asked.

It took all it had in her to tear her eyes from Devlin's face. "Well," she smiled again at Peter and Cody who was looking so sad that it seemed he would start bawling any second from now. "Well, yes. I'm – I'm fine. Shocked and tired, but I'm fine." She smiled brightly.

Someone made an angry grunt behind her. It was Florence. "Well can we all go inside? I can barely see."

"It's been a while Florence," Peter said grinning.

"It's been a while, too, Mr. Peter, and you too Devlin." She opened the door.

It wasn't lost on Pamela that her housekeeper had referred to Peter and Devlin in two different ways.

When they were all seated, except Devlin – statues don't sit, now do they? – Florence declared that she was going to serve dinner and asked Peter to help her out. Cody too, said he forgot something in the car and was going to get it. That left her and Devlin alone.

The tension in the air was so thick, that Pamela felt suffocated. Neither said anything for seconds upon seconds. Her eyes were on a Joyce Meyer book that was lying on the table, so she didn't know what Devlin's facial expression was. She dared not raise her head to see.

They remained that way until Florence came in – thankfully – to say that she had served dinner. Cody and Peter came in too. How convenient. Pamela said she was not hungry and fled up to her room. As she got to the door and was about to close it, something blocked it.

Devlin's foot.

So he followed her up here?

He pushed his way in and looked at her with those piercing eyes of his. "Can I come in?"

~

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Notes

DEET: Also known as diethyltoluamide, DEET is the most common active ingredient in insect repellents. It is a slightly yellow oil intended to be applied to the skin or clothing and protects against mosquitoes, ticks, fleas, chiggers, leeches, and many biting insects.