A Beautiful Funeral

by Jamie McGuire

  I shook my head, letting her know that, although appreciated, I wasn't receptive to sympathy. I didn't deserve it, and that would just be another item on the list to hate me for later.

  Travis returned. Jessica and James snuggled with their Uncle Trenton. "She's finally sleeping," he said. "When she wakes up, I'm going to take her to see Carter. Agent Davies, Wren, and Blevins will escort you home."

  "So that's it?" Trenton asked. "We're free to go?"

  "You're free to go," Travis said.

  "I'll get Dad," Camille said. She seemed in a daze, unable to process the last twenty-four hours.

  I could see that Trenton wanted to spit an insult at his brother, but he remembered Travis's twins were on each side of him. He kissed Jessica and James on the forehead and then stood, gesturing for Olive to come with him.

  "Shep," Travis began.

  "Yes. We'll take the twins," he said without hesitation.

  "Thanks," Travis said.

  Shepley nodded, helping America herd the kids and fold blankets. After Trenton had left with Jim, Camille, and Olive, Shepley and America followed with their boys, Jessica and James, and Jack and Deana. One by one, our numbers dwindled, and then it was just Travis and me with Stella and our protection detail.

  Travis watched the last of his family leave and then rubbed his face with one hand. "Fucking hell, that was awful." He retreated into the waiting room and sat, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and lacing his fingers behind his neck.

  "Well," Val said, joining him. "The worst of it is over."

  "No, it's not over," Travis snapped. "The worst is looking them in the face and telling them I lied ... again. Trenton's definitely going to take a swing, and I'm going to let him do it."

  "I'm hoping they'll be so happy that they'll forget what we've done. Otherwise, they'll never speak to us again," I said.

  "Yeah, they will," Travis said.

  I craned my neck at him. "Would you?"

  He looked down and frowned. "I don't know what I'd do."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FALYN

  AS SOON AS WE ARRIVED AT JIM'S, we all showered and changed, and then reconvened back downstairs. My phone had been buzzing for the last hour, but I already knew who it was. Peter Lacy had received his first response from me that morning, telling him if he didn't stop contacting me, I would file a complaint with the Estes Park Police Department. Somehow, that only entertained him more.

  Taylor and Tyler were in a daze, sitting at the dining room table staring at their clasped hands. I put my phone on silent and shoved it in my back pocket. I didn't want to turn it off in case Travis and Abby or Liis needed anything, but a part of me seriously weighed that against the possibility of Taylor discovering Peter was still trying to contact me. In his current state of mind, I didn't know how he would react. I definitely didn't want a scene in front of Alyssa.

  Jim was asleep in his bedroom, Alyssa was on watch in the living room, and the kids were upstairs watching a movie, leaving the four of us to grieve alone. I wanted to hold Taylor, to touch him. He was my husband, for God's sake, but pride kept my hands in my lap. We had been living by my rules since I'd left, rules I felt needed to be followed as a lesson for Taylor to learn. It wasn't fair to send mixed signals in order to comfort him.

  The house was quiet, only the occasional creaking of the walls from the foundation settling. I tried not to think about Alyssa being in the next room, but it was impossible. It was easier to let my mind worry about things I could somewhat control. The coffeepot beeped, and everyone suddenly awakened from their motionless state.

  "I'll get it," Ellie said, standing. She returned with a tray of mugs and the pot of coffee, setting down each cup and then filling it.

  Tyler drank his black, but I knew to search for cream and sugar for Taylor. As I opened each cabinet, I noticed items in strange places, and then I paused, seeing an ice tray next to the spices. I pulled it out, and water sloshed, startling me.

  "Oh!" I cried.

  Alyssa jogged in. "Everything all right?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

  I flung the water from my hands and then wiped the excess on my pants. "I didn't realize Jim was keeping the ice trays in the cabinet."

  Alyssa wrinkled her nose. "Pardon?"

  "Nothing," I said, refilling the tray and placing it in the freezer.

  Alyssa nodded, turning for the living room, but then she paused. "I admit that I asked for this assignment."

  I stared at her. "I'm ... not really sure how to respond to that."

  "I've been curious about Hollis for a while but especially after you left Taylor."

  My face twisted into disgust. "You've been keeping tabs on us?"

  She shrugged, unapologetic. "You have my son."

  "My son," I said. "I've raised him. I've sat up with him countless nights pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he was sick. I've made him breakfast every morning, his birthday cakes every year, and rocked him to sleep every night until he was six. I was there for his first day of school and when he kicked a soccer ball into his first goal. He's my son."

  "He is," Alyssa said. "In every sense of the word."

  "Then why did you want to be here?"

  "Curiosity, mostly. The rest is sentiment."

  I fidgeted, suddenly nervous about her intentions. "Are you going to tell him who you are?"

  "No," Alyssa said. She looked down. "Especially not now. It would be inappropriate to drop that on him when he's grieving his uncle."

  Even with no sleep and her long hair pinned back, she had barely aged since the last time I'd seen her. Her long, straight dark hair and doe eyes reminded me of Cher when she was married to Sonny, with the exception of killer curves which made her look more like an actress who played an agent on TV than a real one. Without chasing around children and having only herself to take care of, she had aged far better than I had. It was easy to feel threatened as I stood there in lounge pants, an oversized T-shirt, ten years of marital baggage, and crow's feet around my eyes. Alyssa was a supermodel who could steal my husband and a kick-ass FBI agent who could steal my son. The inferiority I felt was crushing.

  I glanced back at Taylor, who turned his head, pretending he hadn't been watching. I wasn't sure if he was listening or staring at Alyssa.

  "I don't begrudge you moments with Hollis," I said. "I've often wondered how you did it, how you just walked away and didn't look back. It's just ..."

  "Confusing," Alyssa said, finishing my sentence. "I understand. And I don't want to make this week any more difficult for you. I've seen the way he looks at you. I couldn't win him over if I tried. I just ... wanted to see him."

  "Hollis?" I asked. I couldn't help it. The words just came tumbling out of my mouth, and my cheeks instantly caught fire.

  "Of course, Hollis. Who else?"

  I glanced at Taylor to see if he was watching. He turned away, caught again. I wanted to pack my things and get on the first plane back to Colorado. Embarrassment normally made me ragey, but I couldn't even muster enough dignity to get angry.

  "Oh. No," Alyssa said. "No, no, no. You misunderstand. Completely. Totally."

  I crossed my arms, feeling absolutely insane. I was actually indignant that she wasn't interested in Taylor.

  She noticed my irritation and sighed. "Let me rephrase. Taylor was never an option. It was always you. I knew it then. I know it now."

  It was a strange feeling to have someone so threatening offer me so much comfort.

  Alyssa paused and then crept up the hallway. She walked quietly up to the front door and then pressed her ear against the wood. She listened for a moment and then rolled her eyes, yanking open the door. Olive jerked to a stop, waiting for permission to come in. Alyssa opened the door the rest of the way and then closed and locked the door behind her.

  "I'm sorry," Olive said. "I'm not used to it being locked."

  Alyssa gestured for her to go ahead and then returned to her spot in the living ro
om. I watched Olive hug Taylor, Tyler, and Ellie, and then she walked toward me. Years ago, I stopped wondering when my heart would stop pounding in my chest when she was around. She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her, flattening her hair against the back of her head. I knew exactly how Alyssa felt, and I had no excuse to make her feel anything but welcome. Hollis was her son, too. Just because she'd walked away didn't mean she didn't love him.

  "Coffee?" I asked Olive, bringing the sugar and creamer to the table.

  She shook her head and followed me. "I just had my second cup before coming over."

  "How's your mom?" I asked, sitting next to Taylor. "Is she ready for you to move into the dorms?"

  Olive shook her head and smiled, snickering. "Not at all. She's such a baby."

  I playfully poked her. "Cut her some slack. It's a big deal." My phone buzzed. I checked it and put it away.

  "I told her about Thomas. She's going to bring Jim a casserole later," Olive said.

  "That's sweet," I said. I used my finger to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. She was a young woman now, creeping closer every day to the age I was when I brought her into the world. She was working at a local grocery store as a cashier like she had every summer since she was fifteen, but this would be her last before college.

  Taylor took a sip. "Thank you, baby." He tensed when he realized what he'd said, but I covered his hand with mine. The rules seemed trivial now, the terms of endearment, the living apart until I'd felt Taylor had done his time and felt sufficiently kicked while he was down. He could have lost his job and gone to jail, and I wanted to punish him more. My heart sank. I was wrong. I'd been wrong.

  "Taylor," I began, but my phone buzzed. I checked it and again put it away.

  "Is that the kids?" Taylor asked.

  "No," I said simply.

  His gaze fell to my back pocket. "It's him, isn't it?"

  "Is it weird that I'm mad at him?" Tyler blurted out, looking at his twin.

  "Mad at who?" Taylor asked.

  "Thomas. I'm fucking pissed. I keep thinking that if he were here, I would punch him in his lying fucking face."

  Taylor shook his head.

  "I feel like that's weird," Tyler said. "Like I shouldn't feel that way, but I do." His bottom lip trembled. "And then I remember he's not here, and he's not going to be here. But I'd still punch him, and then I'd hug him until he wouldn't let me hug him anymore."

  Ellie rubbed Tyler's back. "That's not weird. This is all very confusing. Feelings aren't wrong. Whatever you're feeling is exactly what you should feel."

  I smiled at my sister-in-law. She'd gone from drunken pill popper to a meditating, full-lotus-posing soccer mom. She'd worked so hard to get sober and had spent a fortune in rehabilitation before Gavin came along. She was not only sober, but she was beginning to sound like her therapist, and I loved it.

  "Falyn?" Olive said.

  Without fail, when she said my name, my heart would sing. Because of Taylor, I was able to be involved in her life more than I ever thought possible. She was our flower girl at our wedding, she babysat Hollis and Hadley when we visited, and now, she was sitting next to me, my mirror image, looking at me for advice. I rested my chin on the heel of my hand and looked at her with a smile. "Yes, love?"

  "When do you think the funeral will be? I should ask for the day off. I want to be there."

  "I'll ask Papa when he wakes up. We're going to have to decide a lot of things today, so he should get some rest."

  She picked at her nails, nodding absently. "Yes, ma'am."

  I looked to Taylor, wishing I could thank him for that moment, and every moment with Olive before that one. I'd been wrong, and it was time to admit it to both of us. My phone buzzed again. I didn't check it this time.

  Taylor looked down to the source of the noise. His shoulders sagged. "Is that who I think it is?"

  I hesitated. "I ... don't know who it is."

  "Falyn," Taylor said, sounding tired. "Is it him?"

  "Who?" Tyler asked.

  "Peter Lacy," Taylor said.

  "The mayor's son?" Ellie asked, surprised.

  "She didn't give him her number, and she doesn't respond," Taylor said.

  "I did this morning," I said. Taylor looked devastated. "I told him if he didn't stop, I was going to file a complaint with the police department."

  "And he's still trying to contact you?" Ellie asked.

  "Yes," I said, annoyed.

  "You did?" Taylor asked. "You told him that?"

  I turned to him. "I told you. I want nothing to do with him."

  Taylor managed a small half smile. He didn't lose his temper. He didn't punch at the air or scream or slam doors. Maybe it was because he was emotionally exhausted, but I'd asked him to do better, and he had. "I wish I could do better by you. That's what you deserve."

  The shocked expressions across the table prompted me to reach for his hand. His vulnerability at that moment was so incredibly moving.

  He looked down at my hand on his and blinked, seeming surprised.

  "Will you sit on the porch with me?" I asked.

  He stared at me for a moment like I'd spoken in a foreign language, and then he nodded, finally processing my request. "Yeah. I mean yes. Of course."

  Taylor's chair grated against the floor when he pushed it back to stand. I kept his hand in mine while we walked to the front door. He didn't try to pull away, but he was on autopilot, letting me lead him outside. We sat down on the top step and listened to the birds whistling, the wind pushing through the leaves on the trees, and watched the cars drive by. It was a beautiful, sunny summer day. It should have been pouring rain from gray skies, but instead, the storm was inside. Taylor's cheeks were wet from silent tears, and I felt myself growing desperate.

  "I know this is probably the worst time for this, but I have to. I'm going to say something that I wanted to say the other night, so I don't want you to think there is any other reason for this than me telling you of a decision I've already made," I said.

  "Falyn." He waited several seconds before speaking again. I was afraid he would tell me to shut up because he didn't want to hear anything from me. That anything I had to say would be of little importance to him that day, and I couldn't be mad because he would be right. "If you tell me you want a divorce right now, I'm warning you ... I might just walk into the street and lay there."

  I couldn't help but smile, but it faded. "I don't want a divorce."

  His eyes met mine, and he really saw me for the first time in hours. "You don't?"

  I shook my head. "I love you. And you're right. We should work on this together, not apart. It's not doing anyone any favors, particularly the kids, and ..."

  "I think I'm hearing you say that when we get home, we're not separated anymore." He waited, cautiously optimistic.

  "I'm saying we're not separated anymore."

  "Anymore? You mean now?"

  "Yes."

  "As in right now?" he asked, still unsure.

  "If that's okay with you. I don't mean to assume."

  He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands, leaning forward almost onto his toes.

  "Be careful," I said, holding him back by the arm.

  He puffed out a cry, and then he pulled me into his arms. Soon, he began to sob, and I held him. The muscles in my back began to burn, but I didn't dare move. If he needed me, I would sit in that position for the rest of the day, holding him.

  His shoulders stopped shaking, and he took in two deep breaths, pulling back and wiping his eyes. I'd never seen him in so much pain. Not even the night I left. "I do love you," he said with a faltering breath. "And I'm going to be better. I can't lose you, too. It'll break me, Falyn ... I might already be broken."

  I leaned over to kiss his cheek and then the corner of his mouth. He stiffened, unsure what to do, worried to do the wrong thing. I pressed my lips against his, once and then again. The third time I parted my lips, he kissed me back, holding e
ach side of my face. We hadn't touched in months, and once we started, we couldn't stop. We were crying and kissing, hugging and making promises, and it felt right.

  Taylor held his forehead to mine, breathing hard, relieved but once again cautious. "Is this for now? Is it going to be different when we get back to Colorado and go home to the same problems?"

  "We'll be working on the same problems, but it will be different."

  He nodded, a tear dripping from the tip of his nose. "It will. I promise."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ELLIE

  I SWIPED LEFT ON MY EREADER DISPLAY, turning the page, and then adjusting my body when Tyler stirred. He'd been asleep on my right thigh for two hours, and Gavin on my left for three. I wasn't sure why I moved. Trying to adjust after one of my boys did to make them more comfortable usually just made them uncomfortable, and they would shift again. For whatever reason, I thought I'd know what would make them more comfortable than they did, and I was almost always wrong. It was in part a control issue and maternal instinct. I needed to feel I was helping to make them comfortable, when in reality if I'd just sat still, they could have done it themselves.

  I skimmed down the page, absorbing ideas about coping with death, helping others to cope with death, and the comfort in the belief held by a Ph.D. that our energies move on to the next life. I wasn't sure if that made me a transcendental new age fruit loop, but it made me feel better, and as far as I was concerned, that was my purpose--to exist and heal wounds in the healthiest way I could.

  I'd been grappling with finding peace in Thomas's death, in the lies, and in the danger we'd been put in. I tried not to think about Gavin's picture being one in the more than a dozen photographs scattered on the passenger seat of the vehicle carrying three mafia hitmen, or that his picture had likely been spattered and stained by their blood. The same dark red in color as Gavin's, and not long ago surging through veins of a man who was once a boy; whose only difference from me was a series of bad choices, spurned by childhood experiences marred by his parents' bad choices: a cycle that was never broken.

  My heart ached for the men who would have murdered my child without a second thought, and that was unnerving as well. I'd given up anger, and with that release, I found myself without the tool I needed to hate. I could hate them, but it was difficult when I'd spent so many years viewing adults as children and studying the origin of their actions. I'd never considered that in my discipline to view the world in a new way, I would struggle with having expected emotions that would have come so easily to me a decade earlier.