Tombstones (Beekman Hills Book 4)

by K. C. Enders

  Kate

  I KNEW JAKE HAD lost his daddy, that Chloe Triplett had lost her husband. Deep down in my heart, I knew, but it was the last thing I wanted to deal with. And how selfish is that? Chloe and Jake don’t get to choose whether they want to face it or not. They’re stuck with it for the rest of their lives.

  Rocking from side to side, I get my hands up on the seat of my reading chair and wedge my feet as close to my butt as I can get them. With a deep-ish, bracing breath, I hoist myself off the floor and slide into the chair. Not my most graceful moment, but I’m up. Mostly. And, now, I need to move. I can’t sit here any longer today—not because of the babies, but because people are hurting. People who mean a lot to me.

  Tears gather in my eyes, and I brush them away, taking in the mess around me. I clean up the food and trash, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out. My pace is already slow, but I take it down another notch, praying I don’t see Jack as I go. I’m not sure I can go another round with him.

  “You okay, doll?” Jenny asks as I pass through the office, checking my mail.

  “You heard about Jake’s dad?”

  She smiles a sad smile. “I did. When I went out last night, I caught a bit of it. That poor, precious boy.”

  I nod because the tears are making another appearance. I just can’t imagine what Chloe is going through, her family broken, her hopes dashed. Maybe it’s better for Jack to not be a part of our lives. I don’t know if I could handle having that love, that partnership, and then have it ripped away. Maybe it’s better to just do this thing on my own.

  Jenny hands me a tissue. “Life is messy, Kate. But missing out on the good things because you’re afraid of what might happen is no way to go through it. Sometimes, you have to jump, have faith, and put your heart on the line. The risk can be scary, but oh, the reward.” She gives my hand a couple of quick squeezes. “Go on, sweetie. Get on out of here.”

  She’s right. In fact, her simple words of wisdom sound a lot like the little speech I gave Gracyn when she was struggling over what to do about her relationship with Gavin. Lord, it is so much easier to see the trees in someone else’s forest than it is when it’s in your own backyard.

  I whisper a, “Thank you,” and give Jenny an awkward hug before going.

  She’s been mothering me since I started teaching here, almost like she knew I needed a soft place every now and again.

  If I go, I’m going to miss her something fierce.

  Chapter 28

  Kate

  “YOU READY, HOT MAMA?” Gracyn calls as she pushes through my apartment door.

  The hot part is right. Even for the end of June, it feels beastly hot out.

  “Just about.” Nope. Not in the least. How ready can you ever be for a funeral, let alone one for a young father and husband? “Be honest, Gracyn. How bad do I look?”

  I’ve been living in stretchy pants for months, my options dwindling every day, and even the biggest of my maternity clothes are stretched to their limits at this point. I’m desperately afraid of a wardrobe malfunction at any given time these days.

  “Um, you look fine.” Gracyn doesn’t sound all that sure. “Is that the dress you just got last month?” She leans back, her eyes assessing the black ruched monstrosity.

  “Yep. It’s bad, isn’t it?” I pull at the gathered fabric stretched around my massive bump.

  She shakes her head and smiles. “No, but damn, you’re—”

  “Don’t,” I warn, cutting her off before she says something that I’ll have to hate her for.

  “It’s just—”

  “Gracyn, please stop,” I plead. “I’m about as uncomfortable as I can be. It’s hot out, and this whole thing is gonna suck bad, so just lie to me. Tell me I look pretty, and let’s go.”

  Because she’s one of my very best friends, she does just that. “You look gorgeous, Kate. Absolutely perfect. Come on. Lis is out front, waiting on us.” She carries my tote bag for me, running ahead to push the elevator button. “You have your water bottle in here? Tissues?”

  “Mmhmm. Not much point in bringing it unless it’s stuffed full of all the shit we could possibly ever need,” I say, huffing and puffing to catch up to her. When did the elevator get so far from my front door?

  Hot, humid air about knocks the breath from me when we step outside of my building. This used to be my favorite time of year, but now, it’s just miserable.

  Grateful that Lis has the air-conditioning pumping, I wedge myself into her front passenger seat, muttering, “Fucking hell.”

  Lis reaches a hand over, smoothing my seat belt where it twisted as I clicked it. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I know what Jake means to you, and to lose his father so soon, it breaks my heart. Is there anything we can do for him and his mom?”

  Blinking rapidly, I shift my gaze to the ceiling of her car and try to will my tears away. “I don’t know. I can’t even begin to imagine where to start, what to do.”

  Gracyn settles her hand on my shoulder and asks, “How did she sound when you talked to her?”

  “I didn’t. I, uh … Jack told me about the accident, and I Googled to find the funeral arrangements.” I sigh, leaning my head against the headrest.

  “Jack? You didn’t tell us he was here. How did that go? Is he …” Gracyn stops mid-question, searching for the right words.

  I slide my seat belt in my hand, holding it away from my body. “He showed up at graduation. Thank God he was there to take care of Chloe and get her settled before coming back for Jake. But seeing him like this was beyond awkward.” I shift in my seat, glancing over my shoulder to look at Gracyn. “And he brought me lunch the next day from McBride’s. You met him, G.”

  “Holy shit. Tall? Dark hair? A body you could climb? That was him?” She’s far too excited for where this shitshow is going to end up.

  “Mmhmm. Brought me my favorite lunch and—”

  “And you told him about the babies. I mean, obviously, he could see, but you told him that they’re his. How’d that go?” Lis prods.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I manage both. “He asked me if I was sure they were his.”

  “No,” Lis gasps.

  “And he stormed out of my classroom after telling me that Mr. Triplett was dead. So, I’m thinking it’s a pretty safe bet that he wasn’t too excited to hear the news.” I shrug, batting at the tears rolling down my cheeks.

  Just because the logical part of me had expected that exact reaction from him doesn’t mean there wasn’t hope for a fairy-tale ending.

  ***

  THE SERVICE IS AWFUL in the way that all funerals are.

  Jake and his mama softly sobbing in the very front, closest to the casket holding their daddy and husband. Jack next to them, his posture braced and rigid. Parents, siblings, aunts, and uncles are all around them. Men in uniform dot the pews.

  To the side of the flag-draped coffin sits a pair of combat boots with a rifle standing upright, a helmet and dog tags completing the battlefield cross. Chills run across my shoulders and down my spine. This is so much worse than I anticipated.

  A hush falls over the chapel, and the national anthem plays. The chaplain gives the invocation, and then Jack stands, making his way to the podium, face pale. Jaw tight. The freewheeling and fun man I met in the fall is gone, replaced with one I hardly recognize. Detached, stoic, and somber, his expression unreadable.

  “On behalf of the Triplett and Franks families, I would like to thank you all for attending,” he begins.

  “Today …” Jack’s voice succumbs to the finality of this moment, catching as he chokes down his emotions. He clears his throat, bracing his hands on the podium, taking a beat to compose himself. “We’ve gathered today to say farewell to Sergeant Dallas Henry Triplett, father, husband, son, brother, and friend. The world is a lesser place without him.

  “George S. Patton is quoted as saying, ‘It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who have died. Rather we should thank God that such men existed.�
� I thank God that I had Tripp in my life. To have been included in his. To have served with him, learned with him, laughed with him, and cried with him. He was my best friend, my brother in arms. The man I entrusted with my life.”

  Hot tears blur my vision, silently cascading down my cheeks. As Jack speaks about Tripp, my heart crumbles. Chloe’s head drops forward, her shoulders shaking with grief.

  The future they planned together, their entire life, is gone. Their course forever changed. Jake will be the only child Tripp and Chloe have, and that little boy is clinging to his grandpa, his body wrung out from tears.

  Jack talks about Tripp’s accomplishments in the service and how they met. The things he learned from Tripp and what he admired most. The way Tripp was able to set aside the hardships and demands of his job, a job that he loved and believed in, and be the very best father and husband when he was at home. How he seemed to flip a switch, not contaminating the sanctity of his family with the ugliness of war.

  “Finally, an unknown author wrote, The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all. Tripp lived every day to its fullest.” Jack pauses, looking toward his best friend’s casket. “And he was the bravest man I knew.”

  The scripture is read; the hymn is played. A moment of silence is offered, but the room echoes with the sound of sniffles and sobs. Death sucks, but a senseless loss like this is so, so much worse. The boys who killed Tripp stole his rental car and crashed it after a joy ride. They got fifty dollars in cash from the register and a ride in the back of a police car. So damn stupid.

  After the chaplain delivers the benediction, I breathe a little sigh of relief.

  “The service will continue at Beekman Hills Memorial Cemetery. We ask that you join us, if you’re able, to pay your final respects there.” He nods, and with crisp precision, six of the men in blue uniforms carry the flag-draped casket up the center aisle.

  Jack escorts Chloe, her arm through his, his hand wrapped around hers. His eyes staring straight ahead.

  My tears start up all over again, watching the show that not one of us wants to attend.

  “Kate, you okay?” Lis asks softly, her hand gently rubbing my shoulder.

  “I’m good,” I whisper.

  Because, if nothing else, a funeral puts everything back in perspective, acts as a reminder not to get caught up in the little things but to look deep within, holding close the things that are important and casting off the rest among the tombstones.

  The pews empty, faces downcast, tissues dabbing at bloodshot eyes. Gracyn steps out into the aisle and reaches out for my hand. Feeling more than a little off-balance, I take her hand and maneuver my bulk out of the pew. My best friends walk with me, out of the cool chapel and into the blazing heat. How can the sun deign to shine at a time like this?

  The graveside service is what does me in though. A handful of chairs set up on the side of the hill. The plot is shaded, thank God, a light breeze stirring the leaves of the trees overhead.

  We’re not far from where Francie is buried, and Gracyn and Lis each glance in the direction of his grave.

  “Y’all can go visit him,” I say softly. “I’ll be fine right here.”

  “I’m good,” Gracyn says, squeezing my hand.

  Lis adds, “I just came by yesterday.”

  I hit the jackpot when I stumbled on these two. They walk with me, our progress slow, up the slight incline to the sun-dappled gravesite.

  A hush falls over the gathering as the hearse doors are opened. Chloe and Jack walk quietly behind the casket, her hand periodically reaching out. Reaching for her husband, not ready to let him go. The family settles in the chairs—Chloe and Jake, her parents and Tripp’s. His sister and Chloe’s brothers. Tripp’s granddad, bless him, offers me his chair. Him leaning on his cane, me with this belly.

  “Thank you, sir, but I’m just fine,” I whisper.

  I can’t take his chair. I just can’t stand the idea of getting any closer, like this whole thing is contagious and I could somehow be next if I got too close.

  After the chaplain says a few words, all the uniformed service members shift, standing tall, hands held in loose fists that are precisely lined up with the yellow stripes down their legs. One of them, his uniform slightly different from Jack’s, moves to stand next to the casket.

  “Staff Sergeant Riojas,” he calls in a booming voice.

  “Here, Team Sergeant,” comes the response.

  “Sergeant First Class Baker.”

  “Here, Team Sergeant.”

  “Sergeant Vance.”

  “Here, Team Sergeant.”

  “Sergeant Triplett.”

  Silence. Of course, because Tripp is dead.

  “Sergeant Dallas Triplett.”

  Why is he doing this? It’s cruel.

  “Sergeant Dallas H. Triplett.”

  The only sound is a gasped sob from Chloe as she pitches forward in her folding chair, her hand shaking over her mouth. Jack wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. Supporting her because without him holding her up, holding her back, she looks like she could throw herself across her husband’s casket.

  I sway forward with her as she tries again to reach for Tripp.

  Lis grabs me, pulling me back to balance. “Gracyn, get her water bottle,” she hisses. “Kate, take a drink.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist. I’m fine. I’m okay. This is not about me.

  Gracyn shoves my water bottle into my hand anyway, lifting it toward my mouth. I don’t have the energy to fight about this right now, so I take a sip, only to drop the bottle to the ground at the sound of rifle fire.

  The retort echoes across the hill again.

  And once more as Chloe weeps.

  Jake startles, crying out, “My daddy. I want my daddy.”

  Lis and Gracyn move quickly as my knees buckle slightly, and I reach for the large maple tree behind me. As heartbreaking as Francie’s funeral was this spring, this one is so much worse. So much.

  The chilling strains of “Taps” rise up, sunlight glinting off the bugle.

  “Kate, let’s get you to the car,” Gracyn says.

  I shake my head, unwilling to try to form words.

  “It’s okay. We’ll just—”

  “No,” I croak out. “Not yet.” I cling to my friends as the flag is removed from the casket, folded precisely, smoothed, and presented to Chloe with three brass shell casings resting on top.

  With a heavy heart, I nod finally. The flag clutched to Chloe’s chest, Jake sobbing, and Jack tending to them is enough for me.

  My heart breaks as I turn away, whispering, “Take me home.”

  Chapter 29

  Jack

  I WATCH THROUGH A haze of grief as Kate and her friends arrive at the memorial. My eyes drawn to her at every opportunity. Her teary gaze dragging from the casket of my fucking hero to the wife and child he left behind while I delivered the eulogy.

  Useless fucking words—that’s all they were. There’s no way to capture the things that made Tripp the man he was or even come close to doing him justice.

  Tripp entrusted me with taking care of his family when he was no longer able. It’s the kind of conversation you have when you’ve waded through hell and made it back out the other side. A promise made that never in your wildest dreams do you think you’ll have to fulfill because the person you make that vow to is nothing short of invincible.

  That was Tripp—invincible until he wasn’t.

  Every gasp that Chloe made, every sob from Jake wrenched at my heart. My focus needs to be one hundred percent on Tripp’s family.

  So, I brace as rigidly as I can, practically holding Chloe up as she follows her husband down the aisle of the chapel. Eyes forward, hand covering hers where her fingers dig into my arm, guiding her down this hellish gauntlet to the car that will ferry us to a final good-bye.

  Compartmentalization is my saving grace. I’ve had so much thrown at me in such a short amount of time; it’s the onl
y way I’m able to keep my shit together.

  Give me a mission and an objective, and I’m fine. I can analyze the fuck out of what needs to happen—communications, transportation, the desired outcome—and choreograph the steps it takes to see it through. It’s ingrained in me. Pounded into me by the very best of the best—my team, my friends, my brothers.

  I’ve trained for that. I can dissect the situation, find our marks, and make shit happen.

  Burying Tripp was never part of that mission.

  And, now, there’s Kate. Every shift, every sway of her body pulls at me, making me want to go to her. Wrap her in my arms and make up for everything I missed, and at the same time, I want to run fucking far and fast.

  The news that she’s pregnant hasn’t even settled in yet, and twins … twins are a fucking shock. But there is no denying that the belly she’s got is home to some crazy, active boys. My active boys. Jesus Christ, this is not what I planned, not for an instant.

  A million times, it’s run through my head that Tripp had a gift for making this shit work, the job and a family. Most of the guys do and do it well. I don’t think I have that skill, and I’ve never fucking wanted it. Maybe that’s the missing piece. Maybe that’s my failure.

  Kate’s retreating form is surrounded and supported by her friends, each holding tight to her. Guiding her down the hill to a small sedan. When she is tucked into the passenger seat, I squint into the blazing sun, looking for the shift of her body, the glint of metal showing that she’s buckled in safely.

  “Go. You need to talk to her.” Chloe’s voice is hoarse, thick with all the tears she’s shed and the ones still to come.

  “I’m good.”

  “I know. You’re fine. You know the definition of fine, right?”

  Everyone knows the stupid definition. “Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic. And Emotional. Yeah, but you and Jake are my priority. Tripp—”

  “He’d want you to go take care of your family,” Chloe rasps, her breath catching on her words. “You know he would, Jack. I know you didn’t plan for any of this to happen, but Ms. Beard is the nicest, sweetest … well, I’m guessing you actually know all of that already. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be two sweet baby boys getting ready to join the world. You know your heart, Jack. And, however you feel about balancing a family with your career, that doesn’t change the fact that you have a family now. Babies, Jack. Boys who need their father—for whatever time God sees fit to give you with each other.