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On the way out of the restaurant Sue asked, “Do you mind if we stop by Kristin’s house to check on her? She hasn’t returned any of my calls for two days. I’m concerned about her.”

“Sure thing, we can’t let her get down and depressed. We’ll head right over there.”

Lights were on in the house, but Kristin didn’t answer the doorbell. Sue knocked on the door with her knuckles. “Kris, it’s Sue, come open the door!” She listened intently. No sound could she hear. Balling her fist, she pounded with the side of her hand. Still nothing, she looked at Bob with big, scared eyes.

“You want me to break it down?”

“Yes…Do it.”

He stood back a step, waited for Sue to move out of the way, and put all his weight into kicking the door near the knob. It slammed against the inside wall with a loud bang. Sue rushed in, “Kris, where are you?” She looked anxiously in the living room and kitchen and listened for a reply. “Answer me… Kris, do you hear me?” She started for Kris’s bedroom, half afraid of what she would find. She looked at Bob with pleading eyes. He followed her.

Kris was in her bed, only her head was out from under her blankets, she was pale and breathing shallowly. On her nightstand, Bob saw an empty prescription bottle. He picked it up. Sleeping pills, ordered yesterday, all gone. “By God, Sue, she’s taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Call 911.”
While Sue called for help, Bob pulled Kris out of bed, shook her, and slapped her cheek. “Wake up, Kristin! Wake up and walk!” He half pulled, half dragged her around the room. He kept it up until the paramedics finally got there.

Sue rode with Kris in the shrieking ambulance. Bob drove Sue’s car and followed. He found her in a panic in the emergency waiting room. “They’re pumping her stomach. We’re to wait out here.” She walked into his arms, buried her face in his chest and cried. She regained some control, but stayed right there in Bob’s protective embrace.

“Let’s sit down over here.” He led Sue to a double bench seat against the wall. “Has anyone called your family?”

“No. There hasn’t been time. Can you do it, for me? They should be here.”

“You gonna be all right while I use the phone?” He studied her face.

“Yes, I’m okay. I’ll stay right here unless they come get me.” A shudder visibly ran through her.

“I’ll be right back,” Bob said and hurried toward the desk to use the phone.

Sue waited, she watched the closed curtain in front of the room where they were working on Kris, and she silently prayed. Please God, please don’t let her die. She’s just so hurt and unhappy; she doesn’t know what see did. She needs your help, Lord. We all do.”

Bob came back and sat down. “I called Cliff. He and Roberta will go get your Mom and be right over. It won’t take them long to get here.”

“Thank you… I can’t believe this is happening. It feels like a nightmare, like it’s not real.”

Bob put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. They waited. They were still sitting there, hoping and praying, when Sue’s Mom came running through the door. She looked around frantically, her face a picture of fear.

“Over here, Mom.” Sue stood and took a step forward. Before she got far her Mom was right there. “Sue, where’s your sister? Where’s Kristin?”

“They have her in an examining room. They’re pumping her stomach. The nurse told me to wait out here. Someone will come get us when we can see her.”

“My God, what has she done? How could she swallow pills like that? What are we going to do?” Mrs. Phillips sat down. Her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer.

Bob met Cliff and Roberta at the door. He answered the unspoken question. “We don’t know anything yet. We’re waiting over there.” He nodded toward Sue. They all sat together, watching, waiting, lost in their own thoughts and in prayer.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor who was taking care of Kristin finally walked out of the curtained room and toward Sue. She stood to meet him. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

“Noooooo,” Sue wailed. “No it can’t be!” Her knees buckled, Bob had to catch her.

“The doctor looked from one of them to the next. “You may go in now, if you wish. Again, I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t save her.” He sadly walked away.

The next few days went by in a blur. Arrangements were made, family and friends stopped by, neighbors brought food and condolences. The family was in shock. They got through each day the best they could, all suffering in their own private way, while trying to be strong for one another.

At the appointed hour Bob drove Sue, her mother, Cliff, and his wife to the church for the funeral. It was a mild day, the sun was shining, but no one was feeling the warmth. Bob parked the car and they all walked toward the doors together. When they stepped in through the doorway the first thing Sue saw was Joe. Joe!

She was immediately furious. She walked up to him and yelled. “What are you doing here? Get out! Get out right now!”

“She was my wife,” Joe responded.

“No, she wasn’t. You walked out on her. You hurt her so badly she killed herself. It’s your fault she’s dead. You get out of here. Nobody wants to see your ugly face now or ever again.”

Bob and Cliff walked up, each took an arm, and they forced Joe to go to the door and out to the parking lot. Bob glared down at the shorter man. “Don’t go back in. This is already hard enough on the family. Don’t make it worse.” His eyes hardened. “Don’t make me have to throw you out again. You won’t like what happens if you do.”

At two o’clock Cliff, with his mother on one arm and his wife on the other walked down the long aisle, through a church filled to capacity. His mother wore such a grief stricken expression; no one could be sure if she was even aware of what she was doing. Roberta’s eyes were red and puffy from hours of spilling heartfelt tears.

Bob, with the use of his strong left arm, gave Sue the support she needed to follow her family to the front pew. The look of sorrow on her face held a touch of determination. She knew she would somehow find the strength to say her final good-bye to the baby sister she had loved deeply for over twenty-seven years.

The pastor read the obituary. He talked of the girl-child he had watched grow up in the church, the fine young woman she had turned out to be. The organ played. Mrs. Harris stood. She sang, sang from deep in her soul, a heart-wrenching rendition of In the Garden. Then she moved slowly, head hung low, to take her seat.

People were overwhelmed with the emotion that hung in the air like a misty fog, totally saturating the sanctuary. Sue’s Aunt Betty couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears ran down her cheeks in streams. Try as she might she could not stop the sniffling that turned into anguished sobs.

The sound of suffering tore at peoples’ hearts. One after another, they began to cry. They cried for the loss of one so young, for one of their own that couldn’t face life any longer.

The outpouring continued until Sue stood up and went to stand at the side of the closed casket. She picked up her sister’s picture and held it to her heart. People used their handkerchiefs to try to get themselves under control. Little by little the room grew quiet.

Sue’s eyes traveled over the crowd. When they came to her mother’s damp orbs, she halted. Gazing into those twin pools of agony, Sue opened her mouth and the words flowed forth.

“Kristen Marie Phillips was more than my only sister; she was also my very best friend. We were close all the years we grew up together and all the years since. Kristen was outgoing, giving, caring and generous with everyone see knew.

My sister felt everything deeply. Loving, being kind, doing for others… to her they came as naturally as breathing. It was those intense feelings, and the total devotion for her husband that, in the end, took her from us. Losing Joe was more than she could bear. She didn’t want to go on without him. She chose not to. Now we have to go on without her… Mama, Kris was such a big part of our lives that it’s going to be easier said than done, but we will go on. We’ll do it for her.”

Sue nodded at the organist who began to play. She turned back in time to see her mother walking toward her. A look of pride and joy in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her daughter and whispered, “Thank you, Honey. You’re right; Kristen wants us to go on. We can do it for her.” They walked back to their pew where Cliff, Roberta, and Bob stood for a family hug. And then, together, they walked back down the aisle.

Well Care, we're two different individuals, and as a result we're gonna write two different ways. In a nutshell, it's too brief for me. It's a bit more, but not much more than, the preview on the book jacket.
Actually, the incidents and places they happen in are all there. There's just not enough descriptive meat or simple dialouge for MY approach to writing this.

From the moment the waitress set them at a table - until Bob counted out the exact change spelled out on the ticket, it was obvious that something was nagging Sue. It wasn't the tepid coffee they were served, nor the half-burnt toast that accompanied her eggs over easy. Bob was reluctant to inquire - half afraid of what he'd hear.
Then on the way out of the restaurant, the catalyst of her discontent finally bubbled out: “Hon, do you mind if we stop by Kristin’s house to check on her? She hasn’t returned any of my calls for two days. That's just not like her."

"Sure thing, babe. We’ll head right over there. I agree. With her as clingy and teary as she's been lately, a silent spell might not be a good thing.”

Care, I'd make the readers guess that depression looms instead of putting that word (depression) in their mouths for them.

Then there's the little things. Talking about the doctor after his having given the sad news..... "He sadly walked away." Was the doctor sad or was the sadness in those he walked away from?

Then there's the eulogy from Sue. Boy, she's a gal of FEW words! And worse yet, she mentions the deserting husband's name, as if you anticipate the readers needing a refresher of who the "bad guy" was.
Sue would rightly talk about a heartbreak being at the root of Kristin's demise, but I doubt she'd be so specific UNLESS maybe Joe was at the services and Sue wanted to drive a virtual stake thru his rotten innards.

Further, Mom would be wailing as the organ foretold of the services ending instead of having the revived resolve of a boxer between rounds.

I could go on, but I hate doing this. It's only because you asked tho. :-)

Well my eyes got a good wash and I felt much pride for the strong family that came together to get through this. So you might say you wrote a very powerful story.

Carol - a really good excert. I liked the storyline.

There are a few suggestions:

He stood back a step,(He took a step back,) waited for Sue to move out of the way, and put all his weight into kicking the door near the knob.

Kris was in her bed, only her head was out from under her blankets, she was pale and breathing shallowly.(Kris was in her bed. Only her head was out from under the blankets. She was pale and her breathing was shallow.)

“By(My) God, Sue, she’s taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills

Sue rode with Kris in the shrieking ambulance.(Sue rode with Kris in the ambulance, its siren shrieking loudly.)

She’s just so hurt and unhappy; she doesn’t know what see did.(She’s just so hurt and unhappy, she didn’t know what she was doing. She needs your help, Lord. We all do.”

She’s just so hurt and unhappy; she doesn’t know what see did.(She’s just so hurt and unhappy, she didn’t know what she was doing. She needs your help, Lord. We all do.”

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor who was taking care of Kristin finally walked out of the curtained room and toward Sue She stood to meet him. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

When they stepped in through the doorway the first thing Sue saw was Joe. Joe!(I would omit the second ‘Joe!’)

Nobody wants to see your ugly(wretched instead of ugly) face now or ever again.”

His mother wore (such omit such) a grief stricken expression; no one could be sure if she was even aware of what she was doing.

We were close all the years (we grew up together – growing up together) and all the years since.

My sister felt everything deeply. Loving, being kind, doing for others… to her they came as naturally as breathing. It was those intense feelings, and the total devotion for her husband that, in the end, took her from us. Losing Joe was more than she could bear. She didn’t want to go on without him. She chose not to. Now we have to go on without her… Mama, Kris was such a big part of our lives that it’s going to be easier said than done, but we will go on. We’ll do it for her.”

(In this paragraph, I would put a bit of action between the dialogue, i.e. “My sister felt everything deeply.” Sue swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She felt as if she were struggling for air.)
“Mama, Kris was such a big part of our lives that its going to be easier said than done, but we will go on. We will do it for her.” The young woman looked down at the picture in her hand. She blinked hard, fighting away the tears. Finally, she turned toward the organist and nodded. As the organist began to play, Sue turned back in time to see her mother walking toward her. A look of pride and joy in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her daughter and whispered, “Thank you, honey. You’re right. Kristen wants us to go on. We can do it for her.” The two walked back to the pew where Cliff, Roberta and Bob stood. The family embraced and then, together, they walked back down the aisle.

I really like the storyline for this. I think you have a good one with this.

Sunny

Arcade, ragmpp40, and Sunny.

Thank you so much for taking the time to comment and critique this piece. It feels good to know you care enough to give me your thoughts.

Hugs, Caredoe

Caredoe, You do have a good story and it is a good idea, but I agree with others with the examples that the three have written, the story would have a bit more umph, so to speak. Let us hear more of the story as you write. It is very touching. Donna

Donna, Thank you for your comments. I'm always happy to hear what you think about my writing.
Hugs, Caredoe