And You Will Find Love

The Eatons welcomed Barbara a little nervously, then showed her into the expansive parlor of their Tudor mansion. They sat on a couch and Barbara across from them in a winged chair.

"She was on her way to visit us after seeing her son at Glenview Academy in Wisconsin," Gail's father explained.

"It was at night and she was on that serpentine ravine drive in Winnetka..."

Barbara knew the steep and narrow winding road and its hairpin turns. She and Gail had driven it many times to and from symphony concerts at Ravinia, a summer concert park in nearby Highland Park.

"She apparently turned her wheels to avoid hitting another car," Gail's father said, obviously not enjoying the telling. "It was speeding head-on toward her, weaving out of its own lane. Her car sped up a steep wall of the ravine. Then it rolled over until it finally smashed into some trees. Police said she was probably killed within seconds of the crash."

Barbara remembered the heavily wooded ravine. She and Gail had always loved the sight of the stately homes atop the clifflike heights above. In autumn, the trees were aflame in orange and reds; in winter, heavily covered in snow and the drive looked like a Christmas card picture. Now, after Gail's death on the ravine road, Barbara vowed she would never drive it again.

She became so upset, she could hardly ask, "And the other driver...?"

"A hit and run," Mr. Eaton replied. "Never has come forward or been found. Tire skid marks gave the police most of the clues for what I've just told you."

"Do you think..." Mrs. Eaton began, then hesitated. "Gail couldn't have taken her own life, could she?"

Barbara would not hear of it. "She did make preparations, but that was because she was flying to dangerous cities in wartime. She wanted to plan, for her son's sake. But there's no way she would have taken her own life. Someone took it from her."

"She grieved so hard and long, for Paul," Mrs. Eaton went on. "At times, I worried she might become ill from it."

"No, Mrs. Eaton," Barbara insisted. "Gail always loved life, and loved her son. She would not leave him on her own accord."

"Enough of that," Mister Eaton told his wife. "Some careless motorist, probably drunk, swerved his car into her lane. Rather than hit it and cause anyone else to die, she tried to avoid it. I don't call that suicide. I call that caring about others, as Gail always did. Now let's get on with it, about Timmy."