“Any messages?” she asked Jean as she walked in, and Jean handed her seven little slips of paper. Two were from new clients she had just met the week before, two were from attorneys she had referred cases to, two were from people she didn't know, and one was from her mother.

She returned all her business calls, and then called her mother.

“Did the girls get off to camp all right?”

“Perfectly. I took them down yesterday, Jamie started day camp this morning, and Peter is working.”

“What about you, Liz? What are you doing about getting on with your life?”

“This is my life, Mom. I'm taking care of my kids, and working.” What else did she expect her to do now?

“That's not enough for a woman your age. You're forty-one years old, you're still young, but not young enough to be wasting time. You should be dating.” Oh, for God's sake. It was the last thing on her mind. She was still wearing her wedding band, and similar inquiries by friends had been rebuffed promptly. She had no interest whatsoever in dating. In her heart, she still felt married to Jack, and felt as though she always would be.

“It's only been six months, Mom. Besides, I'm too busy.”

“Some people are remarried by then. Six months is a long time.”

“So is nineteen years. What's new with you? Are you dating?”

“I'm too old for that,” her mother snapped at her, although they both knew she wasn't. “You know what I'm saying.” Sell the house. Close the office. Find a husband. Her mother had lots of good advice to give her, or so she thought, as did everyone else Liz knew. Everyone had some kind of advice to give her, and she wasn't buying. “When are you going to take a vacation?”

“In August. I'm taking the kids to Tahoe.”

“Good. You need it.”

“Thank you. I'd better get to work. I've got a lot to do this morning.” She wanted to get off the phone before her mother got on her case about something else. There was always something.

“Have you put away jack's things yet?”

Christ. It was hopeless. “No, I haven't. I don't need the space.”

“You need the healing, Liz, and you know it.”

“So how come Daddy's coats are still in your downstairs closet?”

“That's different. I have nowhere else to store them.” Store them for whom? And for what? They both knew it was no different.

“I'm not ready to put them away, Mom.” And maybe I never will be, she acknowledged to herself in silence. She didn't want him out of her life or her head or her heart, or her closets. She wasn't ready to say good-bye yet.

“You're not going to get better till you do that.”

“I am better. Much better. I've got to go now.”

“You just don't want to hear it, but you know I'm right.” Who says so? Who says I have to put his things away? She felt the familiar knife-stab of pain again that she had already felt once that morning. Her mother was definitely not helping.

“I'll call you this weekend,” she promised her mother.

“Don't work too hard, Liz. I still think you should close the office.”

“I may have to if you don't let me get to work, Mom.”

“All right, all right. I'll talk to you on Sunday.”

After she hung up, Liz sat staring out the window, thinking of Jack, and what her mother had said, but it was just too painful to let go and do the things her mother had suggested. It was comforting to still see his clothes hanging in his closet. Sometimes she'd let herself touch a sleeve wistfully, or sniff the cologne that still lingered on his collars. She had finally put his shaving gear away, and thrown away his toothbrush. But she couldn't bring herself to do more than that. The rest of it was all there, and she liked it. And one day, when she didn't like it anymore, she would do something about it. But hopefully, not for a long time. She wasn't ready, and she knew it.

“Are you okay?” Jean had walked into the room and saw her staring out the window with a look of sorrow. But Liz stirred quickly when she heard her, and looked at her with a wistful smile.

“My mother. She always has some piece of advice to give me.”

“Mothers are like that. You have court this afternoon, I assume you remember.”

“I do. Though I can't say I'm looking forward to it.” She had maintained their practice exactly as it had been. She was still taking all the same cases that Jack would have approved of, and wanted to fight. She was still using the same criteria for accepting them, and referring the same ones that Jack wouldn't have wanted. She was doing it for him, and still respecting the guidelines he had set for them, but there were times when she questioned what she was doing. There was so much about family law that she didn't like, so many of the battles that seemed unimportant to her. And dealing with people who hated each other, were so willing to hit below the belt and hurt each other, and constantly cause each other trouble and pain, was beginning to depress her, and Jean knew that. Liz's heart wasn't in it the way it had been when Jack was alive. They had been great as a team, but on her own, she just didn't have the fire she'd once had anymore. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but the constant irritations of dealing with divorce had begun to bore her.

But no one would have guessed that when she walked into court that afternoon. As usual, she was well prepared, totally organized, and fought valiantly for her client, and easily won the motion. It was a trivial point, but she handled it to perfection, and the judge thanked her for her rapid disposal of a relatively small matter that the opposing counsel was frivolously trying to turn into a major issue.

It was nearly five o'clock when she got back to the office, answered a few more calls, and gathered up her things. She wanted to be home by five-thirty for Jamie.

“Are you leaving?” Jean walked in with a stack of papers for her that had just been delivered from another attorney's office. The material was part of the discovery in a new divorce case, and came from a well-known firm in the city.

“I have to get home to train with Jamie. He's going to be in the Special Olympics again this year.”

“That's nice, Liz,” Jean said smiling. She was carrying on all of Jack's traditions, holding high the standard of his memory, for her clients, herself, and her children. It was obvious she didn't want anything to change, and so far, it hadn't. Every minute piece of her life was still in exactly the same place it had been before she lost her husband. She didn't even sit at his desk now, or use his office, although she had always liked his better. She had simply closed his door, and rarely went into his office anymore, and there was no one else to use it. It was as though she still expected him to come back one day, and sit there. At first, Jean had thought it was eerie, but by now she was used to it. They only went in there from time to time, to get some papers. But most of their active files were now in Liz's office.

“See you tomorrow,” Liz said, as she hurried out the door. And when she got home, Jamie was waiting for her. She ran into the house, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and running shoes, and five minutes later, she was back outside again, and going over the running long jump with Jamie. The first time he tried it, his performance was pretty unimpressive, and he knew it.

“I can't do it.” He looked defeated before he started, and as though he wanted to give up, but she wouldn't let him.

“Yes, you can. Watch me.” She showed him, and tried to do it slowly so he could see it. He was more visual than auditory and he did a little better the next time. “Try it again,” she encouraged him, and after a while Carole came out to them with a glass of Gatorade and a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

“How's it going?” she asked cheerfully, and Jamie shook his head, looking mournful.

“Not good. I'm not going to win a ribbon.”

“Yes, you are,” Liz said firmly. She wanted him to win, because she knew how much it meant to him, and he had always won one when he trained with his father. After he ate two cookies and drank half the Gatorade, she told him to try it again, and this time he did better. And she reminded him of the Special Olympics oath “Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

They continued practicing for a while, and then she had him do a dash across the yard and timed him. He was better at the dash than the long jump, he always had been. Running was his strong suit, he was faster than most of the kids he ran against, and better able to focus on what he was doing. Despite his handicaps, he had a surprising amount of concentration, and he had even finally learned to read that winter, and he was very proud of it. He read everything he could get his hands on. Cereal boxes, mustard labels, milk cartons, storybooks, flyers that people stuck under her windshield, even letters that Liz left on the kitchen table. At ten, he loved the fact that he could read now.

At seven o'clock, Liz suggested they call it a day, but he wanted to keep working at it for a while, and she finally talked him into going inside at seven-thirty.

“We still have a month to train, sweetheart. We don't have to do it all in one night.”

“Dad always said I had to do it till I couldn't stand up anymore. I can still stand up,” he said simply and she smiled at him.

“I think we should quit for the night while you're still standing. We can do it again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he finally conceded. He had worked hard and he was exhausted, and when they walked back into the kitchen, Carole had dinner ready for them. It was roast chicken and mashed potatoes, with glazed carrots, one of Jamie's favorite dinners. And a hot apple pie fresh out of the oven.