Elle was leaning against the passenger door of my truck, her face buried in her hands. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, letting her cry for several long minutes. Finally, she pulled away. “Let’s just get out of here,” she croaked, glaring back at the house.
* * *
Elle cried herself to sleep that night. The next morning, it seemed her tears had run out. She didn’t want to talk about Braden, about the lipstick on his mouth, or about how he’d crushed her heart. She had a stoic expression on her face while we went about getting ready for the funeral.
Sue kept sending her worried glances. “You really don’t have to go, honey.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Elle snapped, her cool disposition wavering. “I’ve been a part of the Millers’ lives for two years. I knew Deanna. I’m friends with Becky. I’m not going to bail out on the funeral because Braden…“ She swallowed hard, gathering every last bit of her strength. “Let’s just get this over with.”
We took Sue’s car over to the church. Finding parking was surprisingly difficult. The church was full of people; it was as if the entire town had shown up for Deanna Miller’s funeral. I even spotted my dad and all of my brothers sitting at a pew towards the middle of the room. There was just enough space for Sue, Elle and me.
“I’ll be right back,” I told them, spotting Brock near the front of the church with Becky, Braden and Aiden. Braden looked like shit. I couldn’t tell if it was grief, the fact that he was nursing a massive hangover, or that he’d broken Elle’s heart. Maybe it was all of the above. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes when I approached.
Brock took me in his arms and I pressed my cheek against his chest and squeezed him as hard as I could. His eyes were full of sadness, but the smile he gave me when he released me was authentic.
“I’m sitting with my family,” I said, gesturing towards the back of the room. Brock looked up, tensing when he saw my father.
“I appreciate them coming out,” Brock replied automatically.
Pastor Bruce joined us, putting a hand on Brock’s arm. “Are you ready?” he asked with his gentle, commanding voice. This was the same man that had baptized me and every one of my brothers; the same man who’d married my parents and Ben and Katie.
“Yes.” Brock nodded. He was still holding my hand in his. I gave him a tiny smile, releasing it so that we could both return to our seats.
Pastor Bruce stepped up to the altar, clearing his throat to capture the attention of the church.
I slid into the pew beside Elle, feeling the intensity of my father’s gaze. He said nothing as the services began.
Pastor Bruce’s voice rang out loudly and clearly. “Jesus said, ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…’” He paused, his eyes peering out at the full pews. He started speaking again, lecturing the room at large about how Christians ought to not fear death.
I tuned out, unable to focus. It was the first time I’d really been in a church since Ben and Katie got married, and I was distracted, my thoughts pulling me in several different directions. I ached for Brock and his siblings. I thought about my best friend sitting beside me, who I knew was hurting deeply over Braden’s careless actions, even if she wouldn’t say as much. She was focused intently on Pastor Bruce, her eyes unblinking and her back rigid.
“Deanna asked me to read this for her children,” the minister was saying. His voice drew my attention to the front again. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” The room was silent, absorbing the scripture. “Now, Becky Miller, Deanna’s only daughter, has some words she’d like to share.”
Becky stood up, soothing the creases of her black funeral dress. She walked on steady legs towards the altar. She adjusted the microphone, her watery blue eyes taking in how many people were there. “Wow. There’s a lot of people here,” she said, her voice trembling. A few people laughed awkwardly. She gave a tight smile and drew in a shaky breath, readying herself.
“My mom lived with a lot of regrets, but she always told us that we weren’t one of them. We were the driving force behind everything that she did.” She was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She had a piece of paper in her hand, but I noticed her eyes barely glanced at it. “My mom wasn’t good at letting people in. She learned not to trust them at a young age. People judge. People throw stones. She was never good at accepting help. She bowed her head and dealt with things herself. My strength comes from within, she always said when I asked her if she was lonely. It wasn’t until she got sick that she started opening up more to me. She told me it was okay to trust, that she hoped I would again. She told me that it’s okay to lean on people, to cry when it hurts, to speak up when someone isn’t treating you right. She said these were things she wished she’d known back then, but that it was better to learn them later than never at all.”
The church was silent, each person’s eyes focused on Becky as she stood before them. “The bond that she had with my son, Aiden…” Becky trailed off again, drawing in a shaky breath as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. She brushed them aside and smiled towards her son. “She always said that his birth was what knitted our entire family closer together. Before him, we were too scared to lean on each other, too scared to trust in one another because we’d been burned by someone close to us before. But we came together for that, for him. Even with distance separating us, we grew stronger as a family.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say here,” Becky continued, the tears streaming down her face without restraint, “is don’t take the people you care about for granted. Don’t throw away their love. We’re stronger together than we are apart.”
Elle let out a strangled sound beside me, the tears she’d fought to hold back finally falling free at Becky’s final words as Becky made her way back to her seat and Pastor Bruce positioned himself in front of the altar.
“Before we conclude the funeral service, I’d like to end with a note from Luke 6:37; ‘Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.’”
* * *
The burial for Deanna was family only. A huge group of us that planned on attending the reception afterwards at O’Riley’s decided to grab something to eat beforehand.
“Let’s go to Betty’s diner,” Gordon suggested to the group at large. The group included my dad, all three of my brothers, a very pregnant Katie, Elle, and Sue.
“Sure, why not?” Elle sighed. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” I knew she was still hurt over Braden walking right past her without so much as a single glance once the funeral services had ended.
“I’ve got stuff to do at the farm,” Dad said. He looked completely out of place, dressed up in his Sunday best. When my mom was alive, Dad used to attend masses every Sunday with her and the boys. After her death, he stopped going and he stopped taking us. The last time he’d set foot in the church was for Ben’s wedding and he’d been every bit as uncomfortable then as he was now.
Truthfully, I was surprised that my father had even showed up for the funeral. He’d made his opinion about Brock Miller perfectly clear time and time again over the past week and I didn’t think he was ever friendly with Deanna.
“It can’t wait until after you’ve had something to eat?” Sue interjected, arching a brow.
Dad gave her a rare smile and scratched his beard, considering. “I suppose it could.” His eyes drifted over to me. The disappointment and anger that had clouded them a few days before had diminished and he looked at me with warmth. “Mind keeping your old man company on the drive there?”
“Sure,” I said, giving him a tiny smile. I hadn’t really spoken to my father since I’d stormed away from the conversation I’d overheard him having with Sue. I didn’t exactly want to talk about any of that today, not with everything else going on, but I didn’t want to cause further friction by continuing to ignore him. After
all, he was my father. He was always going to be a major part of my life, whether or not he agreed with my choices. We were just going to have to learn how to live with one another when we disagreed.
Katie had been massaging her stomach distractedly while we all debated on whether or not we wanted to come, and she tensed, breathing through her mouth carefully.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked, frowning at the strained look on her face.
“I’m fine.” She waved him away. “It’s another one of those Braxton Hicks contractions.”
“I should get you home,” my brother fretted, rubbing her back in slow circular movements.
“I want to go eat,” she told him, smiling and shrugging.
He regarded her for a minute then sighed. “Alright, we’ll stop by for a bite to eat. Meet you all there?”
Our group divided into separate vehicles. I squeezed Elle’s hand in mine briefly before I followed my dad to his truck.
Dad held the key up to the ignition, his hand freezing. He exhaled deeply and turned to look at me. “I don’t expect you to understand the love a parent has for their child. Maybe you will one day far into the future, but right now, all you see is me being unfair.”
“Dad –“
“Let me talk, Tessa,” Dad cut me off, giving me a stern look that booked no room for arguments. “Maybe I am being a little unfair, but you’re my little girl and I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”
The silence stretched on between us for several long seconds. “Dad, you can’t protect me from every bad thing out there,” I told him, giving him a pained smile as memories of the bush party, and Chris, overcame me. I swallowed hard. “Bad things in life happen to everyone. You’ve given me more than enough tools to handle the bad things, though, and I have the added bonus of having a lot of good things in my life. I have a family that loves me; you all might drive me nuts, but I know you’ll always be there for me. A lot of people don’t have that,” I remarked, my brows creasing as I thought about the Millers. I looked back at my father with determination. “Brock might break my heart, I might break his heart. We might work, we might not, but that’s for me to find out and you can’t shelter me from that.”
My father was quiet, absorbing my words. He nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “So you care about this boy a lot?”
“Yes.”
“What happens when you go to college?” he asked, looking as if he figured I was about to tell him I’d decided to throw away all my academic goals for a boy.
“Brock hasn’t changed my decision to go to college.” I arched a brow, almost amused. “I don’t only care about him. I still care about my future, my dreams and my hopes. I still care about my friends and my family; I just also care about him. We’ll make it work long distance if it’s meant to be. If it’s not, well…” I shrugged, trying to ignore the sick sensation of dread that the thought brought forth.
Dad regarded me for several moments before a proud smile eased the seriousness of his expression. “I’m proud of you, Tessa. I don’t give you enough credit. You’re a smart girl. A strong girl.”
“Does this mean you’re going to give him a chance?” I asked, trying to keep the hopefulness from my tone.
“I’ll do my best, kiddo,” Dad promised, reaching across the seat and rubbing the top of my head like he used to do when I was a little kid.
“Dad!” I laughed, ducking away from his hand and trying to fix my hair. “Can we go now?” I asked, glancing at the time. “I’m starving.”
He nodded, his eyes twinkling as he started up his truck and pulled out of the parking spot.
* * *
A good hour later, I walked into the open doors of O’Riley’s with Elle by my side. The bar seemed to have gone through a transformation. It was brighter and there were crisp white linen cloths on the tables. Beautiful flower arrangements were placed on each of the tables and booths. Meat and cheese trays, vegetable trays and sandwiches were in abundance on the long table against the far wall. There was a coffee urn and a drink station.
Brock stood by the food table, helping Aiden pick out things for his plate. I glanced around, looking for Braden. I didn’t see him anywhere and neither did Elle. I felt her deflate a little beside me before she tossed her shoulders back and took off towards the bar to join Travis, Grady, Ezra and Peter.
I made my way over to Brock, my heart thudding in my chest when he lifted those metallic eyes. He smiled softly at me, lifting his head a fraction.
“Hi, Aiden,” I said, crouching down to give him a hug. He hugged me back, melting into my arms. During the last week, we’d really bonded. When Becky asked me to take him for the day so she and Brock could finalize the funeral details, I’d made sure to make his day a special one that wouldn’t be clouded by sadness. We’d gone to my house and spent the majority of the day with the horses. Aiden helped me brush and feed them, and he’d even ridden on Scared Spirit after I’d found my old riding gear from when I was little. The helmet was a little loose, but it had served its purpose well enough for the gentle circles around the fenced-in ring.
Aiden loved it. It was his first time riding a horse and his face had shone with such excitement.
“Hi, Tessa. When can I ride Spirit again?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement.
“Whenever your mom says it’s okay,” I told him with a smile. Becky had requested the week off work so she could spend time with her family and grieve. I wasn’t sure what her plans were, but she knew I was available to take Aiden whenever she needed the break. “But you’re welcome whenever, okay?”
“Okay.” Aiden smiled. I straightened up as Brock handed him his plate, watching as he wandered back over to his mom, to sit at one of the booths.
Brock’s hand found mine and he gently pulled me towards him. His free hand brushed a strand of hair out of my face and his eyes came to rest upon my lips. “You’re beautiful,” he told me before his lips gently descended to mine. He kissed me softly, tenderly, just long enough to make my heart rate thrum pleasantly in my chest.
A commotion at the bar broke our moment alone together and I turned my head, seeing Braden slam down his tumbler of whiskey in aggravation.
“Are you seriously going to try to tell me what to do right now, Elle?” he shot out, his eyes flashing with rage.
Elle lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving Braden’s face. “I just don’t think drinking this much is a good idea.”
“Does everything always have to be about you, Elle? What you think and what you want and your plans?” Braden’s voice was angry and each word sliced into my friend’s heart like a blade.
“Braden!” I said sharply, pulling away from Brock and stomping towards them.
Elle held up a hand, stopping me. She turned her red rimmed eyes back to her boyfriend. “I know you’re hurting right now, Braden. But don’t lash out at me. Words can’t be erased,” she told him, her voice cautioning him to tread lightly. Every person in the room knew that Braden held Elle’s heart in the palms of his hands and he was dangerously close to crushing it.
The venomous, frantic despair in his eyes made me ache for my friend. He picked his tumbler back up, his eyes never leaving her face. “So don’t erase them then,” he challenged, tossing it back.
It was the exact moment that Elle’s heart completely crumbled. Her eyes welled up with tears that she stubbornly fought to control, and she nodded once with a calm sense of finality before she turned and wordlessly left.
Brock
Tessa threw an angry look across the room at Braden before she followed her friend out of the bar and onto the street. I inhaled deeply through my nose, glancing around the bar. Thankfully, only my old friends and Braden’s friends had witnessed his outburst. None of the other guests had shown up from the funeral yet. I was relieved; I knew they surely would have judged us mercilessly for Braden’s display.
“Braden Joseph Miller.” Becky’s voice lashed out across the silence and she stomped towards him angri
ly. I followed behind her just in case I needed to intervene. Judging by the rage rolling off of Braden in waves, it looked like I’d have to. “How could you treat Elle so grotesquely after everything she’s done for you?”
“Whatever. This is fucking bullshit,” Braden exploded, his eyes bright with animosity and torment. He tossed back the rest of his drink and stomped off towards the back exit.
Sighing, I followed him, leaving Becky to clean up the awkwardness out front.
I found Braden leaning against the brick wall out back, smoking a cigarette. His red eyes opened when he heard me approach. “Are you going to lecture me too, big bro?” he said, his tone dark and dangerous. He reminded me so much of the kid I used to be, full of anger, disappointment and pain… and unable to direct it in any way but through rage.
It took me a long time to come to terms with my own demons. I knew I wasn’t fully there and that it would be an uphill battle for the rest of my life. It was harder before I found Tessa. I didn’t really have anyone to keep me accountable. Now I had a taste of something good, something wonderful and I’d be damned if I was going to let my anger fuck it up.
I was just sad my brother couldn’t see that. He was letting his rage at the world destroy something incredibly good and pure that he had. He was letting his ugliness spill out and hurt the girl I knew he loved.
He was acting like our old man, but I knew he didn’t need me to tell him that. He knew it.
I studied him calmly for a few more seconds, mulling over what I wanted to say. “No, I’m not. I think you already know that you just made a mistake. No need to rub your nose in it.” Braden gaped at me. Whatever he’d been expecting me to say, it wasn’t that.
“Is she gone?” he asked, his eyes downcast.
“Probably. Why in the hell would she stick around after that?” I demanded, resisting the urge to smack him upside the head.
“Whatever,” Braden muttered, swallowing hard. “I’ll go in in a few. Let me finish my smoke,” he added, still not meeting my eyes.
Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series)) Page 24