I'll Be Seeing You Read Online Free

that call to come and end the uncertainty.
    There was such a total sense of incompletion. Catherine would often think that people who ignored funeral rites didn’t understand that they were necessary to the spirit. She wanted to be able to visit Ed’s grave. Pat, her father, used to talk about “a decent Christian burial.” She and Meg would joke about that. When Pat spotted the name of a friend from the past in the obituary column, she or Meg would tease, “Oh, by God, I hope he had a decent Christian burial.”
    They didn’t joke about that anymore.

    On Friday afternoon, Catherine was in the house, getting ready to go to the inn for the dinner hour. Talk about TGIF, she thought. Friday meant Meg would soon be home for the weekend.
    The insurance people were due momentarily. If they’ll even give me a partial payout until the Thruway divers find wreckage of the car, Catherine thought as she fastened a pin on the lapel of her houndstooth jacket. I need the money. They’re just trying to wiggle out of double indemnity, but I’m willing to waive that until they have the proof they keep talking about.
    But when the two somber executives arrived it was not to begin the process of payment. “Mrs. Collins,” the older of the two said, “I hope you will understand our position. We sympathize with you and understand the predicament you are in. The problem is that we cannot authorize payment on your husband’s policies without a death certificate, and that is not going to be issued.”
    Catherine stared at him. “You mean it’s not going to be issued until they have absolute proof of his death? But suppose his body was carried downriver clear into the Atlantic?”
    Both men looked uneasy. The younger one answered her. “Mrs. Collins, the New York Thruway Authority, as owner and operator of the Tappan Zee Bridge, hasconducted exhaustive operations to retrieve both victims and wreckage from the river. Granted, the explosions meant that the vehicles were shattered. Nevertheless, heavy parts like transmissions and engines don’t disintegrate. Besides the tractor trailer and fuel tanker, six vehicles went over the side, or seven if we were to include your husband’s car. Parts from all the others have been retrieved. All the other bodies have been recovered as well. There isn’t so much as a wheel or tire or door or engine part of a Cadillac in the riverbed below the accident site.”
    â€œThen you’re saying . . .” Catherine was finding it hard to form the words.
    â€œWe’re saying that the exhaustive report on the accident about to be released by the Thruway Authority categorically states that Edwin Collins could not have perished in the bridge tragedy that night. The experts feel that even though he may have been in the vicinity of the bridge, no one believes Edwin Collins was a victim. We believe he escaped being caught with the cars that were involved in the accident and took advantage of that propitious happening to make the disappearance he was planning. We think he reasoned he could take care of you and your daughter through the insurance and go on to whatever new life he had already planned to begin.”
6
    M ac, as Dr. Jeremy MacIntyre was known, lived with his seven-year-old son, Kyle, around the bend from the Collins family. The summers of his college years at Yale, Mac had worked as a waiter at the Drumdoe Inn.In those summers he’d formed a lasting attachment for the area and decided that someday he’d live there.
    Growing up, Mac had observed that he was the guy in the crowd the girls didn’t notice. Average height, average weight, average looks. It was a reasonably accurate description, but actually Mac did not do himself justice. After they took a second look, women
did
find a challenge in the quizzical expression in his hazel eyes, an endearing boyishness in the sandy hair that always seemed wind tousled,