Reclaiming a Life

Financially, such charity was a stretch for the Hardys -- they're working-class themselves, renting their basement to a boarder to help pay the mortgage -- but they believe people ought to help each other out. "We do what we can," Earl explains.

After 76-year-old Earl teaches Teressa how to drive, and spends five hours waiting at the DMV for her to take her driving test, the Hardys put $6,700 more on a Discover card to buy Teressa a used SUV, taking her at her word that she'll make the payments. Erin had $400,000 in life insurance, and the legal finding of involuntary manslaughter means Teressa is eligible to collect; the first installment is due any day. The Hardys lend her money for groceries, and pay the March rent so she won't have to beg her way through the phone book again.

The administrative job comes through, and Teressa is working 20 hours a week, less than the 35 required by the court, but her probation officer lets it slide. She enrolls in Liberty University online, registering for English and Bible study classes on her new laptop. She wants to major in criminal justice, or maybe psychology, to help people. She keeps vowing to get counseling for the kids, but she never manages to follow through, and stops going herself because she lacks rapport with the counselor the military provides.

Etta Hardy goes with her to court one afternoon, waiting on a bench while Teressa and Erin's mother meet with the mediator to settle the custody issue. With Teressa out of earshot, Etta crumples under the anxiety. Tears roll down her face.

"Teressa's got a thousand-dollar utility bill, and they're going to turn off the power," she sobs, "and I can't help anymore. We're tapped out. I don't know what will happen to her."

Teressa returns, too giddy to notice Etta's swollen eyes. Erin's mother has decided not to fight, after all. Everyone assembles in the courtroom, where the judge congratulates them on reaching an agreement.

"These children are off to a good start," she tells Teressa. "Best of luck to you."

Visiting Erin's Grave

The evening gown is deep gray, the color of a shadow. Teressa wore it to a military ball with Erin. He loved this dress. In her living room, Teressa fusses with her bouquet. "Eleven yellow roses and one red. Those were our flowers. I always told him he smelled like yellow. And the red one is for love."

Her 6-year-old, bouncing on the sofa, flashes his mother a gaptoothed smile. "I thought you didn't love him," he says, still bouncing, the accusation tumbling out in a disarmingly chirpy rush. "You killed him. You killed him on purpose!"

The color drains from Teressa's face. She rearranges the roses again, but says nothing. The 9-year-old pounces on his little brother, tapping him on the mouth over and over, as if to push the words back inside. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" the older boy cries.

At Arlington National Cemetery, a volunteer highlighted a map showing Teressa how to find Erin's grave, but she has marked the wrong turn, and Teressa studies the rows of identical white headstones in frustration.

The boys take off running, darting between tombstones, wanting to be first to find Erin's name. "Daddy, Daaaaaady!" the younger one calls into the cold March wind.

Teressa begins walking in the opposite direction, high heels sinking into the soft grass. Farther and farther she walks, intent on finding him, a ponytailed widow in her ball gown, the yellow roses she clutches the only flash of color in this Gothic moonscape. She doesn't notice that her sons are no longer within sight or earshot. She walks until she suddenly falls to her knees in tears, her hand tenderly caressing Erin's chiseled name, her lips mouthing the silent entreaty: " My yellow."

Moving On?

First her sisters move out in April, then her mother leaves in a huff one morning a month later after quarreling with Teressa. Erin's insurance had been set up to be paid out in installments. The first check comes and is almost as quickly gone, Teressa laments, used to pay her bills, reimburse the Hardys and return the money a great-aunt scraped together to pay for Teressa's attorneys. She also buys her sister a used purple sportscar, so she'll have transportation for work, even though she has no driver's license and hands the keys over to a bad-news boyfriend Teressa can't stand.

Learning how to manage her own finances is proving to be a tough and sometimes humiliating lesson for Teressa. A drive-by landscaper scams her out of $750 for what amounts to a couple of sorry little impatiens and a sack of mulch, and Teressa berates herself for paying him upfront. Fixing her poor credit rating is proving to be an expensive chore, too. When a financial adviser suggests that opening new lines of credit and making faithful payments will boost her low scores so she might eventually qualify for a mortgage, Teressa buys a cellphone and signs a service contract that requires a $700 deposit. Thinking regular car payments will also enhance her rating, she buys an orange convertible. She isn't sure how long the car loan is for, "but it doesn't matter, because I'm going to pay more each month."

A home of her own is still a distant dream; the real estate agent she met through her church keeps pushing Spotsylvania as an affordable option, but Teressa resists the idea of a long commute. "I don't want to be that far from my church, either," she insists. The Reconciliation Community Church in Manassas has been her safety net since members prayed with her in jail.

She is excited when the jail chaplain calls and invites Teressa to train for the same outreach ministry. He also wants her to help organize a support group for women after their release, because she knows how to cling fast to that shaky ground. The idea of evangelizing to inmates makes her feel proud, chosen. She grows misty-eyed with peculiar nostalgia when she remembers how the inmates in her Christian dorm used to worship together before bed. Teressa would sing her favorite hymn. Night after night, a song of redemption.

Sometimes she is electrified by the will to move on, by the possibilities that still might exist for a 25-year-old woman. She ventures into online dating sites, and goes out a couple of times with men who can't help but ask why she's a widow so young. At first, Teressa would merely say she didn't want to talk about it so early on. But a new fierceness has taken hold lately, and she throws the truth down like a dare.

"I tell them I'm trying to change my life. I'm going to church. I help the homeless. I have a big heart. I'm doing everything the best I know how, and if you're going to judge me, then you're not the kind of person I want to be with."

And sometimes she is paralyzed by the past.

After a three-week trip to North Carolina to visit family over the summer, Teressa's schoolwork falters and she withdraws from college. At work, there are hints of a promotion and full-time hours, but she has to pass a security clearance, and worries that she could just as easily end up unemployed again. She buys new furniture, cuts her long hair, invites friends over for dinner.

She finds herself standing every day on the spot where he fell. She knows she should move away, go far from this place, but somehow she can't bring herself, yet, to leave.