The flowers I’d chosen were surrounded with lilac ribbons, bright and cheerful. Harper would have hated to see us grieving; her wish was that we would celebrate her life. Rejoice that her suffering was over and that she was at peace.
The funeral director drove us to the church. I wasn’t sure how many from the community would attend and was surprised to see that thirty minutes before the funeral was scheduled to begin, the parking lot was full.
As we exited the car, Dad kept his arm wrapped around me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
This was his way of assuring me he hadn’t taken a drink. Although I hadn’t mentioned it to Lucas, having our father fall off the wagon was a big concern. Dad had been doing well for two months and seemed better than he had been in years. But this…the death of his child was sure to shake that fragile foundation of sobriety. If anything would threaten to cause him to drink again, it would be this day.
I clung to his arm, wanting him to know how proud I was of him. Proud and grateful. “You’re doing great.” My hope was that he’d remain strong in the aftermath of today and into the future.
We filed into the church as a family and were blessed to find the loving support of our community. Harper was loved, and her death was duly noted by those whose lives she had touched.
I noticed Sean sat in the first row behind the family. As we walked in, he captured my gaze, and while I wanted to look away, I found I couldn’t. Emotion clouded his face. Regret. Sympathy. Guilt. I hadn’t the strength to deal with his feelings; his actions told me his work would always come first in his life. I needed more than he could give. Realizing and accepting that now was a good thing for us both.
Harper’s closest friends, Joelle, Leesa, and Carrie, had insisted on preparing the lunch that would follow the funeral. They were as determined as I’d been to make this as celebratory as possible. They’d cooked and baked, working long into the night to be sure all would be ready. I’d spent a good amount of time with them. Chantelle, too. We’d wept and hugged one another and laughed, remembering Harper and loving her. I’d helped bake dozens of lemon-flavored cupcakes, Harper’s favorite, and frosted them with vanilla icing.
Pastor McDonald approached the lectern. He’d been wonderful. He’d prayed with us, but mostly he’d listened. He didn’t offer any of the usual platitudes. Instead, he’d sat with us and heard our pain and grief. When I mentioned how angry I was with God, he sympathized and gently said that God understood.
For Harper’s funeral he chose the verse from I Corinthians 2:9 to prepare the eulogy.
“No eyes have seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.”
It was perfect. He looked out over the packed church and spoke, his words filled with encouragement and comfort. He knew Harper, who had been raised in this same church. She’d attended Sunday school here as a child—we both had. Mom was the one who’d brought us, and Dad joined when he wasn’t working and on holidays. Harper had memorized enough Bible verses to be awarded her own Bible. The very one she’d packed with her when she’d entered the hospital all those months ago. Her Bible: Well read, well worn, well loved.
The church had standing room only. While Pastor McDonald eulogized Harper, I could feel Sean’s eyes on me. Without a single audible word, I sensed everything he’d wanted to say. How desperately sorry he was to have left me when I’d needed him most. Had he realized…had he known, understood how desperate Harper’s condition was, he would have found a way to be at my side. He wanted us to go back, start again, and silently begged me to give him a second chance.
For me, at this point in my life, the answer was no. I didn’t mean to be cruel. I could forgive him and in fact already had. That didn’t change my decision, though. As it was, I was holding on by a thread.
Pastor McDonald looked to me as he spoke. “I know a lot of you feel that your hope, your prayers, your faith, were ignored by God. I’m here to assure you that isn’t true. God has answered all our prayers, just not the way we wanted or expected. Remember, Harper is free now: free of cancer, free of pain. She is free. Harper is perfect and whole and in paradise. I can see her now, putting together a yoga class.”
A small laugh followed. The thing was, I could envision that scene myself. Harper had never been one to sit still for long. It helped to think of her with her toned body, healthy and happy, free from the cancer that had taken her from us. It was the image I chose to hold in my mind.
At the end of the service, we headed to the community center for the wake, where lunch would be served.
Dad, Lucas, and I stood in the doorway and greeted each person who came through, thanking them for their love and support. Joelle, Leesa, and Carrie took over in the kitchen, along with several ladies from the church. Chantelle and John stayed close by in case we needed anything.
We hugged, wept, and were consoled. No one could ever doubt how deeply Harper had impacted our small town.
Dr. Annie and Keaton were among the last to come through the door. Annie hugged me and expelled a deep breath. “I never thought it’d come to this,” she whispered.
“Me, neither.” Until the very end, I’d wanted to believe Harper would survive, and I knew she did, too.
“You’re a good sister, Willa. She adored you.”
Hearing someone I respected as much as Annie say that brought a fresh batch of tears to my eyes. We hugged each other long and hard.
Keaton, always a man of few words, stood awkwardly behind his wife. “Sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said, and impulsively hugged him. He was a huge man, and I knew he found my display of affection surprising, yet he returned my embrace and gently patted my back.
Preston followed behind Keaton. I knew the two couples were the best of friends. To my surprise, his wife, Mellie, was with him. She rarely went anywhere when crowds of people were present. For years she’d felt trapped inside her home, afraid to venture out. Only after she’d fallen in love with Preston had she felt comfortable enough to leave the house.
After shaking Dad’s and Lucas’s hands, Preston hugged me and whispered, “Come see me next week?”
“What for?”
“You need a comfort dog.”
I should have suspected he had an ulterior motive. As the head of the animal shelter, he was always looking for good homes.
“My apartment complex doesn’t allow pets,” I reminded him. I didn’t mention that I would likely need to move, unless I found a roommate. Frankly, living with a stranger didn’t appeal to me.
When we finished with the reception line, Sean approached with a plate of food. “Eat something,” he urged.
The gesture was thoughtful, but I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
I sincerely wished he’d stop. His gentle care hurt nearly as much as his absence had earlier.
Rather than get involved in a discussion regarding my eating habits, I was grateful to see that many guests were starting to leave. Pastor McDonald spoke with Dad and Lucas, and I saw Dad nod. He glanced my way, letting me know it was time for us to head to the cemetery.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, escaping Sean.
The grave site was prepared, a tent covering the open hole where the casket would be lowered. I knew Dad had expected it would be him who would be laid to rest next to Mom, and not one of his children.
Cars lined the narrow roadway closest to the grave site. As we gathered around, John stood at my side, his arm around my shoulders. I felt his sadness as keenly as my own. How we had hoped for a different outcome. How we had prayed and planned and sought a miracle.
For weeks, I had desperately asked God to heal my sister. My faith was much larger than a mustard seed. I had an avocado-sized faith. And when I
was forced to accept that there would be no miracle, my faith was shaken off its foundation. I was angry with God. Angry with the world. Hurting and bitterly disappointed.
Then my thoughts wandered to the eulogy, and my decision to remember Harper as healthy and whole in heaven now, putting together a yoga class.
Pastor McDonald stood at the grave site, read several passages from the Bible, bowed his head, and said a final prayer.
It was finished. Now we were left to carry on.
Without Harper.
Those who’d assembled started to walk back to their cars. The funeral home had provided a vehicle to drive us back into town. I knew Lucas and Chantelle and John needed to return to Seattle.
Dad came to Lucas and me. “Son, I need you to take Chantelle and Willa back home.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Lucas asked, and seemed as puzzled as I was. He looked to me for an explanation, but I had none.
“Not yet,” Dad said. “I’m staying.”
I hadn’t a clue what Dad was thinking.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked, concerned.
Our father placed a hand on each of our shoulders. “I’m not going to let a backhoe bury my daughter. I’m going to do it myself.”
“Oh Daddy.” I hurled myself into his arms, overcome with love for my father and his tender heart.
“You don’t need to do it alone,” Lucas said. “I’ll join you.”
“As will I,” John added.
Everyone had left, or so I believed, until I saw Sean walking across the cemetery, with the man I could only assume was the groundskeeper. In his hands were four shovels.
CHAPTER 30
Willa
Life was supposed to return to some kind of normal now that Harper had been laid to rest. My sister might be resting, but those of us who had been left behind had to find a way to return to our lives again. The task felt overwhelming, if not impossible. The one thing that would save me, I decided, was my daily routine. That meant getting my business up and running again. I would need to do that in stages.
My first step was to approach the local bank to see if I qualified for a loan to cover rent until I was back on my feet. This wasn’t something I looked forward to doing. I delayed as long as I could. My only assets were a car, which I was still paying off, and my business, which was in danger of folding.
I knew the loan officer, Leon Bent, was sympathetic, but this was business. A few years back he’d briefly dated Harper before she’d introduced him to the woman who eventually became his wife. That was Harper, the matchmaker.
Part of me believed my sister somehow knew she wasn’t long for this life. That helped explain why she never allowed any relationship to continue for more than a few weeks. She’d never let herself fall in love. The one exception had been John Neal. She had fallen head over heels for the wonderful doctor and he had fallen hard for her. It hurt to think of all Harper would be missing in life. She would have been a terrific wife and a fabulous mother.
Pushing thoughts of my sister out of my mind, I squared my shoulders and opened the glass door that led into the local bank. Leon was expecting me, and stood when I approached his desk.
“Willa,” he said, and extended his hand for me to shake, reminding me this was all business. “What can I do for you?” He gestured for me to take a seat.
I lowered myself into the chair and clasped my hands, which were trembling. Unsure where to start, I struggled to hold back the tears. “As you might have guessed, the last few months have been tough.”
“Ellen and I were terribly sorry to hear about Harper.”
Glancing down, I swallowed hard and held my breath, fearing if I tried to speak, I’d fall apart emotionally. After several tense seconds, I looked up and managed a weak smile.
“As I was saying, being away from the shop was detrimental to my cash flow.” No need to delay the purpose for my visit. “I’m here about a loan, Leon, otherwise I’ll be forced to close my doors.”
“You’re already closed,” he reminded me.
“Close permanently,” I whispered, nearly choking on the words and the thought of losing the years of hard work and sacrifice I’d put into Bean There.
Leon asked all the questions I knew he would, then gave me the paperwork to fill out and leave with him. Once I laid it on his desk, he said, “I’ll do what I can, Willa, but no promises.”
“Thank you.” I appreciated his honesty and left with little hope.
Suspecting the bank would refuse a loan, my second and less desirable step was to approach my shop landlord. The property owner lived in Spokane, and I knew Lewis Johnson and his wife depended on the rent money for their retirement. Making that phone call was even more difficult than approaching the bank for a loan had been.
“Willa,” Lewis said, answering the phone. “Julie and I are so sorry to hear about your sister.” Then, getting right to the point, he asked, “What do you need?”
My mouth was dry. “With everything that’s happened, I want you to know I won’t have the rent money come December…I’ve gone to the bank and asked for a loan, but—”
“Willa, stop. Your December rent has already been paid, but you should know I wouldn’t have hounded you for the money either way. You’re a good tenant and I don’t intend to lose you.”
Stunned, I found myself unable to speak. “Who…Who made the payment?” The question squeaked out of the tightness in my throat.
“They asked to remain anonymous.”
It could only have been Sean.
“You don’t have a thing to worry about. There are a lot of people who want to support you.”
“Thank you,” I said, stumbling over the words before we disconnected.
While relieved that I had one less worry, I was angry that Sean felt he could step in at the last minute and play hero. Clearly he was looking to absolve his regret and rescue me. If he assumed he could buy his way back into my life, he had another think coming. I wouldn’t stand for it. I may not have much, but I wasn’t about to forfeit my pride.
Before I could even consider what I intended to say, I leaped into my car and drove out to Sean’s place. I slammed the car into park so hard I jerked forward until the seatbelt snapped across my upper body.
I marched up to his front door and pounded against the wood. It didn’t take him long to answer. The moment he saw me, he broke into a wide, warm, welcoming smile.
No doubt he’d been expecting me to rush to his side weepy and grateful. Well, that wasn’t happening.
“Willa, I’m so glad you’re here.”
He brought me into the house, and Bandit, who was curled up in front of the fireplace, came to me, his tail wagging with welcome.
“Why would you do that?” I demanded. Then, because I found it impossible to contain my anger, I paced his living area.
“I’m sorry?” He looked confused. He was a good actor.
“Don’t play games with me, Sean. I know you were the one who paid my December rent for Bean There.”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me…You’re the only one I told, and I immediately regretted it. I regret it even more now.”
“Willa, please, listen to me. You can be as angry as you want, but I’m telling you the truth.” His gaze dared me to defy him. “The truth is I considered it, but I had no way of knowing who your landlord is or how to get in touch. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t want that from me.”
He sounded sincere. I blinked, unsure what to believe.
“I want to help. I do. And I would if I didn’t believe you’d think I was looking for a way to buy back your favor.”
That was exactly what I’d thought.
We stood, staring at each other. “Okay, fine, but if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”
Sean’s look grew thoughtful. “You may have mentioned it to me in passing, but your family must have known. The shop hasn’t been open in nearly a month. It wouldn’t take much for someone in town to put two and two together.”
Dad knew my circumstances. I remembered him telling me he’d put a bit of money aside. Dad was friends with Lewis Johnson, my landlord. It could only have been my father. Lucas and Chantelle might have contributed, too.
The awareness must have shown in my eyes, because Sean took hold of both of my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “Don’t you have any idea of how much you’re loved? Bean There is part of the fabric of this community. No one wants you to lose your business, least of all me.”
I snickered. “You don’t even like coffee.”
“True, but I’m crazy about the woman who brews it.”
That was the last thing I wanted to hear, especially from him.
As if he could read my mind, Sean added, “Give me another chance, Willa. Let me show you how important you are to me. I’ve been heartsick knowing how badly I failed you.”
Being unnecessarily cruel to Sean or anyone went against my nature. “I appreciate what you’re saying; I know you’re sincere and I wish things could be different for us, I really do. It would be easy to love you, but I can’t let that happen.”
“Why? Because I wasn’t with you when Harper was sick?”
“No,” I said, keeping the emotion out of my voice, although it was difficult. “It isn’t only that you were gone when my life was falling apart. It’s because I know I will never be able to count on you. You’re married to your career.
“You are who you are,” I continued, “and I won’t ask you to change. Your work is your life, your mistress. You love it and the risks that go along with it. In the short time I’ve known you, think about all the chances you’ve taken. Our relationship isn’t working for me. I’m sorry, I truly am.”
“But—”
“It would be best if we didn’t see each other again, Sean. I wish it could be different.”
A Walk Along the Beach Page 24