Long Road Home

by JoAnn Ross

  “I haven’t, either,” she admitted. “But I could ask Father Cassidy. And if we can’t do it at the church, we could hold it at the ranch.”

  “We made a great funeral for Riley,” Jack told Sawyer, swiping away at his wet cheeks with the backs of his hands as the idea began to take hold. “We all said nice stuff about him and put his favorite toys with him in the box Dad made. Then we played ‘I Feel Love,’ from the Benji movie. Mom really liked that, didn’t she, Austin?”

  “We all did,” Austin agreed. “It was a very special day.” The bittersweet funeral had made a sad occasion memorable. “I’ll definitely see what we can work out.”

  “I want to see them,” Sophie said.

  That sudden request, which Austin realized they should have seen coming, blindsided her and caused a sudden silence to hit the room.

  “I understand, but I don’t think you really want to do that,” Cooper suggested.

  Heather’s daughter tossed up her chin. “I do, too. I need to see them.”

  From what she knew about the accident, Austin didn’t think this would be a good idea. Especially since Cooper was so obviously against it.

  “Is it because you need to make sure they’re really gone?” Sawyer asked.

  She could only nod as the tears welled up again. Understandable anger aside, Austin was reminded that Sophie was still a child. A child who’d undergone a horrible, life-altering loss.

  “How about this,” Sawyer suggested. “You trust Cooper, right?”

  She looked up at Cooper. “I guess. Because he’s the sheriff.”

  “Right. And taking care of things is his job. So, what about if he goes to the funeral home, in his official capacity, and makes sure that the paramedics got it right? That it was your parents in the car.”

  “Minivan,” she corrected. “A yellow one.”

  “That’s what I saw,” Cooper said in a quiet but assuring tone. “But I’ll definitely go and double-check to make sure.”

  “And I’ll go with him,” Sawyer said.

  They all held a collective breath as she considered that offer.

  “O-k-k-kay,” she decided.

  “You’ve got it,” Cooper said. “Unfortunately, I’ve had to do this before. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I know you do.” She ran her hand beneath her nose, causing Rachel to hand her a tissue from the box she’d put on the counter earlier. “It’s just that I’ve never done this. So I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re not alone, honey.” Austin knelt down beside the chair next to her. “We’ll all miss your mom and dad terribly. But I promise that we’ll get through this sad time together.”

  Austin could only hope.

  17

  THEY AGREED THAT the kids would stay with Rachel and Cooper while Austin and Sawyer returned to Tom and Heather’s to pick up some personal items. Then, although she’d already called Buck, they’d go back to the ranch to fill her father and Winema in on the details.

  The Campbells’ house was a Craftsman bungalow on Mountain View Drive, just a block away from where Rachel and Scott had first moved to when they’d arrived in River’s Bend. With its blue siding, red front door, and white pillars and porch, it always reminded Austin of the Fourth of July. The lawn had greened up, red-and-white petunias brightened the front garden bed, and a huge dumpster for construction debris took up most of the driveway. Next to the dumpster was a white Ford pickup with Ames Construction written on the side beneath a silhouette of Modoc Mountain.

  The remodeling had been going on for three months. It had become such a part of the couple’s life, Austin wasn’t surprised to enter the house and see Brody up on a ladder installing crown molding.

  “Hey, guys,” he greeted her with a quick smile as he slipped the hammer into the loop on the tool belt he wore low on his hips. “What’s up?” His expression sobered as he took a longer look at their faces. “You’re not here to make sure I paint this room the buttercream yellow Heather picked out,” he guessed.

  “I wish.” As Austin tried to tell the story as succinctly as Sawyer had told her, she wondered how many times she’d have to repeat it over the next days. Like all small towns, River’s Bend wasn’t immune to a swift and far-reaching gossip line, but like that old game of telephone, it wasn’t always accurate.

  “Damn.” He backed down the ladder. Then looked around, not with the eye of a contractor but a man who’d just lost two close friends. “The kids can’t really stay in this place,” he said. “Not without Tom and Heather.”

  “No,” she agreed. “Not that I’m criticizing your work—”

  “Don’t worry. I get it. Living in a construction zone is never easy. Doing it when you’re a kid who’s lost his parents would be untenable.”

  “That’s what we decided, although Sophie wanted to come back at first.”

  “That makes sense. Especially since hers is the only room that’s not a wreck. Although Jack’s been sleeping in there for the past two weeks because we blew out his wall to add a bath so he and his sister won’t have to share anymore.”

  “Heather told me that Sophie’s getting to that age where sharing a bath with a younger brother is becoming more and more of a problem,” Austin said. “They’re moving to the ranch and can have their own rooms there.”

  “They probably won’t want to be separated,” Sawyer said.

  “Probably not,” Austin agreed. “Their rooms have a Jack-and-Jill bath in between, so they can work out the sleeping arrangements as the days progress.”

  “Good idea.” Brody took off the Hank’s Hardware cap he’d been wearing backwards and ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s going to happen to the house?”

  “If you’re worried about getting paid—”

  “Hell, no. I was just thinking of how many hours I spent with Heather on details. It’s rough that she’s never going to see it completed.”

  “There’s a lot she’s going to miss.”

  Like Sophie’s and Jack’s graduations from middle school, high school, college. Their weddings, holding her first grandchild. Christmases with her children’s growing families filling this house that she’d planned to stay in forever. All the holidays that no one celebrated quite as wonderfully or fully as Heather Campbell. The list of losses seemed to stretch past forever.

  “You might want to hold off doing any more work until the ownership situation with the house is settled,” Sawyer said, looking around at the half-painted room. A room interrupted. Just like its owners’ lives.

  “I’m going to call Colton Kane right after we leave here,” Austin said. “He’s handled all their business legal stuff and wrote their wills, so he’ll undoubtedly have more facts.”

  It had never dawned on her until now exactly how many details were going to have to be dealt with. She also belatedly wondered if the property guardianship was separate from guardianship of Jack and Sophie. And if so, who’d be taking care of that. Especially since Tom’s family being able to handle anything was out of the question.

  “If you want to help keep Jack occupied,” Brody said, “I bought him a small hammer a few weeks ago. It’s probably up in his room or maybe Tom put it in the garage. I’ll look out there while you’re collecting other things, and if you’d like, I can give you some short nails to take back to the ranch. He really enjoys pounding them into boards.”

  “If it makes noise, Jack’s all over it,” Austin agreed.

  “Buck and I can come up with some fake chores that’ll help him transition to living on the ranch,” Sawyer said.

  “That would be great.” Jack was still young enough that Austin wasn’t certain the finality of his situation had hit home. Sophie’s adjustment, she suspected, would prove more problematic.

  She’d had the kids make a list of their must-have items. Not only had it given them something else other than their parents’ deaths to think about, as well as she knew them, she wouldn’t have wanted to make that important a selection on her
own.

  Together it took them twenty minutes to locate everything. Although Sophie hadn’t put her diary on the list, when Austin saw it on the bedside stand, she added it to the things in the oversized suitcase she’d brought along with her.

  Leaving Brody to clean up the house, they dropped off the suitcase with Rachel, then returned to the ranch.

  *

  “OH, THOSE POOR babies.” Winema wiped her damp eyes with her apron as Austin filled her and her dad in on what had happened. “You just handle whatever needs to be done, and I’ll get things ready for them and take care of them when they arrive.”

  As she’d taken care of Austin. Some women, like Winema, Rachel, and Heather, seemed to be natural-born mothers. Austin decided she must’ve been hanging out with horses the day that gift had been handed out, but surely it was something that could be learned. And it wasn’t as if she would be doing it alone. Along with a strong group of friends, there was also Sawyer.

  Who, although he’d assured her that he’d be there for the children, also had his own problems he was obviously struggling with. He’d always been the most outgoing of the Murphy brothers, the one who lived life as fully as he rode his bulls and broncs. But the man who’d returned from war was quieter. More distant. And, from the way his entire body had stiffened at that backfire outside the New Chance, like preparing for a body blow, she wasn’t certain how serious those “issues” might be.

  Maybe she could talk to Rachel and ask her to have Cooper talk with him. She didn’t want to be overly dramatic. But neither did she want to put the children at risk. Not that she believed Sawyer would ever hurt anyone. But Jack and Sophie were emotionally fragile right now. They didn’t need any other problems to deal with.

  And didn’t just considering that possibility cause a twinge of guilt?

  This was Sawyer. A man she’d known all her life. Yet now he’d become a man seemingly incapable of talking to her without the buffer of friends. Friends they’d lost. Which brought her mind full circle back to the children. Who had to remain the most important aspect of this problem.

  “I’m not sure how long Jack and Sophie will be staying with Cooper and Rachel. Sawyer and I are going to the funeral home and the church to make arrangements, then to Colton Kane to learn the logistics of petitioning for custody and hopefully to find out what Tom and Heather wanted done with the house.”

  “What about the cemetery?” Buck asked. “Do you know if they pre-bought plots?”

  Damn. All that earlier talk about burying and it hadn’t even occurred to her. “I doubt it.” Heather and Tom may have been feeling like grown-ups when they’d asked to include her in their wills as a secondary guardian, but who in their twenties spends hard-earned money on a cemetery plot? Taking out her phone, she added that to her list of things to ask Colton. “But I’ll check.”

  “Why don’t you bring the kids over here?” Buck suggested. “They like the horses.”

  “They do,” Austin agreed. “But—”

  “Dad would be happy to help out by sending one of the hands over,” Sawyer broke in before she could share her concern about her father being able to handle an energetic Jack on horseback. “Colt Bartlett and his wife had five sons before Marybeth finally gave up trying for a daughter. He’s great with boys.”

  Having known the Bar M foreman for years, Austin found that a perfect solution.

  “Sophie can help me plant the annuals I picked up yesterday at The Plant Place,” Winema said. “Gardening is such a positive activity, because you take a little bitty plant, stick it in the ground, treat it nice, and before you know it, you’ll end up with something good to eat or some pretty flowers you can enjoy in the garden and bring into the house. That way, when the girl sees a garden ablaze with flowers this summer, she won’t look back on this time as all bad.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  Austin wasn’t surprised that Winema had come up with a perfect plan. She was, after all, a natural at this mothering stuff. Tom and Heather might have laughed at how he’d been so afraid of even holding their infant daughter, but she was finding the idea of living up to Heather daunting. And why, oh, why, didn’t kids come with a manual?

  18

  THE EARLE FUNERAL Home was located on Foothills Drive, which, as the name suggested, was one of the higher streets in town, offering a view of the valley. When it had first been established in the early 1900s, Jacob Earle had moved the business to higher ground after a spring runoff had the river flooding his initial establishment. Fifty years later, one of his descendants had created a park-like garden space, complete with a circulating waterfall tumbling down a back wall and seating for those who’d enjoy outdoor memorial services. It had proven so popular there were even couples who’d chosen to get married there.

  Earl Earle IV, who had been two years ahead of Tom and Heather at Eaglecrest, had collected their bodies from the hospital morgue. He’d assured her that his team could make any body, no matter the condition, available for viewing, but Austin suspected that, since she, personally, wouldn’t want people looking at her after she was dead, her best friend would feel the same way. So, they’d opted for closed caskets.

  Choosing that casket was yet another thing she’d never expected to be doing. There were so many of them, in all price ranges. Many were so fancy she was tempted to ask which one King Tut had chosen, but since Earl was being so genuinely kind, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  “This is nice,” Sawyer said, standing next to one of the simplest caskets in the showroom. While Earl had been showing off a hunter-green twenty-gauge steel model with a choice of ivory velvet or cream crepe, Sawyer had wandered away to browse on his own.

  “It matches the new cabinets,” Austin said. While pine might not be trendy, Heather had believed that the kitchen was the heart of the home, and nothing said heart to her more than country.

  “That’s definitely not your old-time pine box.” Earl, who was probably not thrilled with the less expensive choice, deftly switched gears. “It’s our American Heritage green model. The manufacturer uses local lumber from a Clackamas County timber company that follows sustainable forestry practices and air-dries its own lumber. The water-based paints, stains, and finishes are VOC-free. Which makes them safe for the environment.”

  “Heather and Tom were part of this year’s Earth Day planning.” Another point in this choice’s favor.

  “I know. And you probably didn’t spend that much time at our booth, but this model was the one we featured. Heather mentioned that it reminded her of the cabinets she’d chosen for Brody to install.”

  Austin exchanged a look with Sawyer and knew he was thinking the same thing. That, ironically, Heather had ended up choosing her own casket.

  Earl ran a palm over the top. “As you can feel, it’s smooth as glass.”

  When he paused and looked at them, Austin realized he was waiting for them to feel the glassy surface. So, they obliged.

  “Nice,” Sawyer said.

  “If you want to stay green—”

  “We do,” Austin said.

  “Then you have a choice of organic cotton, linen, hemp, or Lyocell, which is a soft wood pulp-based fabric.”

  Heather was the seamstress and weaver. She would know which to choose. Feeling in over her head yet again, Austin went with the organic cotton.

  “Good choice,” Earl said. “Though not as upscale as the velvet or crepe most people end up choosing.”

  “Heather and Tom weren’t most people,” Austin and Sawyer said together.

  The price was higher than Austin would have expected. Death, she was discovering, was not inexpensive.

  “Did I mention the company also plants one hundred trees for every one of these caskets they sell?” Earl asked as he wrote up the sale.

  “That’s a lovely gesture.”

  “It’s also wise business practice since they’re ensuring themselves material long into the future. This is their third decade in business, so th
ey’re no fly-by-night like some others out there.”

  “That’s good to know.” Sawyer’s flat tone suggested that he was about casketed out and had no plans to be shopping for body boxes again anytime soon.

  After the selection, they went into Earl’s office (which also had a smaller version of the outdoor fountain, which Austin guessed was intended to soothe ragged nerves) to go over what turned out to be mountains of paperwork. Not only was death not cheap, it came with myriad complicated hoops to jump through. Fortunately, despite their not having chosen the Cadillac of caskets, Earl took his time, walking them through the guidebook the funeral home had put together.

  Two exhausting hours later, after he’d helped them prepare the forms necessary for Sophie’s and Jack’s Social Security survivor benefits, arranged to get the necessary copies of the death certificates they’d need, and assured them he’d write the obituary for the River’s Bend Register from the facts she gave him, she and Sawyer were on their way with a to-do list stretching into the next county.

  “Damn. I could use a beer after that,” Sawyer said as he drove back down the hill toward Eureka Way.

  “I could use a dirty martini.”

  He shot her a look, reminded yet again that, while they’d known each other forever, there was a lot about her he didn’t know. “I didn’t know you drank martinis.”

  “I don’t.” She rubbed her temples where he suspected a headache mirroring his own had begun to throb midway through the funeral meeting. “I’m not even sure what, exactly, a dirty martini is. I just saw Daniel Craig drink one in Spectre, and it looked very good.”

  “By good, you mean sexy.”

  “He’s James Bond,” she pointed out. “The man can’t be anything but sexy. But it seems the olives would add a salty tang.”

  “They do.”

  “So you’ve had one?” She sounded surprised, which made sense because, while alcohol was readily available at those Saturday night parties on the river, he’d always stuck to beer. While Austin, who was much more of a straight arrow and had probably never been drunk in her life, had stayed with Coke.