In Liz’s mind the reverend’s words seemed far away, as if they were a dream. In fact her entire world had taken on some ethereal, dreamlike reality, where she floated from day to day without ever really being conscious of anything. But she was conscious of the little wooden coffin they lowered into the freshly dug grave. She was completely conscious of the aching void her little son had left in her heart. I never got to hold him, Liz lamented silently, never got to smell his sweet baby scent. She didn’t even know what he looked like. Liz wanted desperately to cry, to curse at the wind, at God, at whoever was responsible for taking her baby, but she knew anything she did would prove futile. In the end, her baby would still be dead.

Liz blamed herself for his loss. Perhaps if she had shared her fears with Max sooner he could have prevented this. Instead of morning their son’s loss they would have been celebrating his birth. The irony struck a bitter chord within Liz. Her son had been due to be born that very day. The day of his funeral. The tears were inside Liz’s chest, welling within her like flood waters against a dam, but she refused to release them. What good would they do anyway? As the small casket disappeared into the ground below Liz realized that a large portion of herself was being buried with her son.

Max slid a wary glance at his wife sitting beside him. She was pale, almost ghostlike, her dark hair pulled back in a tight, ruthless bun. Her attitude was aloof, cool, indifferent. Max wanted so desperately to hold her, to soothe the pain he knew was tearing her apart, the pain that was tearing him apart, but he knew without acting that she would reject him. Liz hadn’t said two words to him since they’d brought her home from the hospital. It was like she had retreated to her own world and was refusing to let anyone in, even Claudia. Max didn’t know what hurt worse, losing his son or losing his wife.

Alex looked on at his two friends with supreme sadness filling his heart. Of all the people this could have happened to Max and Liz deserved it least. In his arms, Claudia began to fret, her small arms outstretched for her mother. Alex did the best he could to calm her, whispering her favorite song into her ear, tickling her. But the more he tried, the louder she cried. In the end, Isabel had to slip her a piece of hard candy to quiet her. Although her bottom lip continued to tremble and tears still caused her amber eyes to sparkle the candy was enough to calm her down.

After a few moments, Claudia laid her head against Alex’s shoulder, stroking his neck with her sticky hand. Alex felt sorry for the kid. For the last three days she had gone virtually unnoticed by her parents, spending the majority of her time with Alex and Isabel. Liz was much too wrapped up in her own grief to notice Claudia or anyone else for that matter. And Max was too preoccupied with trying to help Liz to deal with anything else. On the one hand, Alex understood their pain and sympathized with them. After all, they had just lost a child and Alex knew that the pain must be unbearable. However, Alex did not think that even that was excuse for ignoring the child they did have.

Isabel Whitman felt her husband tense beside her, but she didn’t need to look at him to know that he was angry. And she knew without asking the exact reason why. They’d had their very first argument this morning over it. The knowledge made Isabel feel extremely uneasy and unhappy in addition to all her grief. She especially hated being estranged from Alex considering what they were all dealing with, but she happened to feel that he was being much too harsh with Max and Liz. Isabel’s mind wandered back to their argument earlier that morning.

She had been in the bedroom pulling on her stockings when Alex came in from A.J.’s nursery. “So will we be dropping Claudia off after the funeral?” he asked, bracing his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Actually Max asked me yesterday if we would be willing to keep her a few more days.” Isabel tried to sound casual as she said it, but she was already all too aware of how Alex felt about it. She had expected him to explode and true to her expectations, he did.

“Yes, we sure as hell do mind!”

“Alex,” Isabel began reasonably, “they’re going through a hard time right now. Give them a break.”

“I know they’re going through a hard time, Isabel. All the more reason Claudia should be with them and vice versa.”

“Liz is in no frame of mind to take care of Claudia,” Isabel reminded him softly.

“Only because we make it easier for her not to.”

Isabel leveled him with a cold look. “Everyone who figures that I’m the heartless one in this relationship has certainly got it all wrong.”

“I’m heartless because I’m trying to look out for Claudia? In this whole mess no one’s thought about that little girl once.”

“This isn’t about Claudie at all!” Isabel exploded, finally losing her temper, “You’re just upset because having Claudia here is an inconvenience for you!”

He looked stricken by what she said. His face actually drained of color but Isabel was much too angry to care. “You don’t mean that, Isabel,” he said softly.

“The hell I don’t,” she countered just as softly.

They were the last words she had spoken to him since before the left for the funeral and they continued to be between them even now. Alex had been right, Isabel hadn’t meant any of those things she’d said, but she’d been so angry because he seemed not to care about Max and Liz’s feelings at all. But Isabel did agree with him on one point, they couldn’t go on caring for Claudia indefinitely. She needed her parents and they needed her.

After the coffin had been completely lowered into the ground, Liz turned away and began walking back towards the long, black limo that waited on the curb. Max followed despondently behind her. As if on cue everyone else began to disperse along with them. Michael Guerin immediately seized the opportunity to catch up with Maria and grab her arm.

Immediately, upon seeing her father Mickey squealed, extending her arms to him. Michael swung her up into his arms with a laugh, hugging her close. After sitting through that funeral he couldn’t hold his little girl close enough. But holding Mickey had not been the only reason he’d stopped Maria. “We need to talk,” he told her in a low voice.

“This is hardly the time or the place, Michael,” Maria gritted, checking the urge to yank her daughter out of his arms.

“It’s either now or later, but either way: We talk today, Maria.”

“Fine. Say whatever you have to say,” Maria sighed impatiently, “I want to get back to Liz.”

“Look, I was a jerk to you the other day and I’m sorry. Maria, I love you, you know that. I mean….I guess the whole pregnancy thing just freaked me.”

“So does this mean you’re willing to marry me now?”

“I’m not saying all that-“

“Well, then we have nothing to talk about,” she said, lifting their daughter out of his arms. True to form, Mickey began wailing but Maria ignored it. “Say bye-bye to daddy, Michelle.”

“Bye-bye, Daddy,” Mickey sobbed obediently, flexing her little hand at her father as her mother walked away.

In the limo Isabel squeezed Alex’s thigh and offered him a tentative smile. “Are you talking to me now?” Despite himself, Alex smiled back at her. Part of him was annoyed that his wife could dispel his anger with a single smile and part of him didn’t care because he was just so elated that they were speaking again. “I’m sorry about what I said this morning,” Isabel continued contritely.

“Me too. I can see how I might have sounded a little harsh. Forgive me?”

Isabel’s brown eyes softened as she gazed at her husband. “Only if you forgive me.” They kissed softly, smiling and whispering love words to one another between the kisses.

Maria climbed into the limo, sighing with disgust. “Oh you two, get a room!” Everyone laughed at her comment. Everyone except Liz. She only continued to stare dejectedly out the window to the place where her son had just been buried. Seeing how unhappy she appeared, Max felt a little guilty for laughing, even guiltier because the laughing had actually made him feel better. It was so tiring being sad all the time.

Maria squeezed over in the seat between Max and Liz. Resting her chin against Liz’s shoulder she advised softly, “If you cry, Liz, it will make a world of difference.”

“Why?” Liz asked, speaking for the first time in days. The unexpected shock of it silenced all sound in the limousine. Liz turned away from the window and leveled Maria with a dull stare. “If I cry it changes nothing, right? My baby’s still dead.”

Maria framed her friend’s face with her hands. “But you’re alive, Liz. You’re alive!”