While we waited for the place to open, I amused myself by picking a few remaining blades of grass off my calves. As I did, my sunglasses slipped down repeatedly. I doubted that anyone would recognize me, but figured a new look couldn’t hurt. I hadn’t counted on the mud.
Five minutes passed as we waited for the doors to open. Another TV van pulled up and joined the line of cars pulling into the parking lot. This vehicle bore signage announcing “News at Nine.” But the man in black waved it on past the parked cars. A uniformed cop stepped out of the crowd to argue with the occupants, who eventually turned around and drove off.
I was beginning to wish I hadn’t arrived so early as another five minutes went by.
At long last, Thelma Detweiler’s old station wagon appeared in the line of cars. The man in black waved them into a reserved space. John Henry bounced out of the passenger’s side and offered a hand to Thelma, who was sitting in back. Louis stepped out of the driver’s seat, shook the hand of the parking attendant in black and helped his son climb out. As he did, the pants leg of Detweiler’s black suit hiked up, making his ankle bracelet clearly visible. I heard a camera click to catch the image.
A beat-up gray Camry drove into the spot next to the station wagon. Patty and Paul, Ginny and Jeff all struggled out. Last of all, Emily pushed her way out of the back seat, looking around like she was lost.
As the Detweiler clan crossed the parking lot, cameras began clicking and flashes went off. Two men with long lenses stepped out of the crowd of mourners, but as soon as they did, the uniformed cop and another man who flashed a badge escorted them across to the other side of the street. At the far end of the parking lot, the TV van took advantage of the confusion to grab an empty space.
The Detweiler parents flanked their son. They turned neither right nor left as they walked toward the funeral home. All around me, whispers started first as a quiet murmur, and then as a distracting level. People craned their necks for a better look at Chad Detweiler. A woman behind me said, “I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up.”
A man added, “If I had my b-b gun, I’d set him to hightailing it out of here like the sicko he is!”
“You got that right! I’d make him sorry he was ever born!” snickered another male voice.
So that’s how it was. “Us” against “them.”
Well, today they picked the wrong woman to mess with.
“How dare you!” I turned and shook my fists at the gathering. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
I ripped the rubber band out of my hair, shook my curls free, pulled off the sunglasses, and with head held high, went over to take Detweiler by the hand. He stared down at me, his eyes narrow with frustration. “I am so, so sorry to put you through this,” he whispered with his lips nearly touching my ear.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said and gave his hand a squeeze. “The roses are wonderful.”
Louis stepped up and took my free hand. The rest of the family nodded to me, something less than a smile and more than a casual acknowledgement. We moved forward as one, and the sea of darkly clothed mourners parted to let us past. The front door opened and a pair of ushers stepped forward to greet us. One of them spoke to Detweiler, in a way that suggested they were old friends. The other moved more stiffly, escorting us to a row of folding chairs near the front where the casket sat on a folding contraption that didn’t look too sturdy to me.
Louis let go of my hand and dropped back to take Thelma’s arm. John Henry moved forward, so that he and Detweiler bookended me. As we took our seats, the lawyer lowered his voice to whisper, “Great to see you. I know this is hard, but it’s the right thing to do. For you, for Chad, and for our case as well.”
A chill ran up my spine, but I put on a poker face. Mourners filled the seats around us. The ushers escorted Milton and Carla Kloss to their seats near the casket. I noticed they weren’t holding hands, and their faces looked more angry than grief-stricken. Once they were seated, all I could see was the back of their heads.
John Henry took out his cell phone and mouthed, “Vibrate.” In response, we reached for our phones. As I did, I noticed a text message from Ned.
Hey! I need to check on my favorite patient. You up for coffee tomorrow? I’ll come by your store around 3. LMK
I typed in a quick: See you then!
It appeared that the accounting firm had also left me a text message. That could wait. I silenced my phone and slipped it into my purse.
Floral tributes lent the air a cloying fragrance. The casket was surrounded by lilies, mums, and carnations. A color photo of Brenda rested against the simple walnut coffin. She usually looked unkempt, like a teenager experimenting with makeup, but not quite getting it right. In this picture, the photographer had captured a wholesome appeal, something I’d never seen in the woman.
A skeleton-thin woman with an over-active vibrato sang “Amazing Grace” to start the service. It’s hard to ruin that song—I even love the bagpipe version—but bless her heart, this woman managed to mangle a beloved hymn.
A minister stepped to the center of the raised platform. He mumbled his way through a variety of prayers. After what seemed like an eternity, he called on members of the audience to share their memories. A former teacher went to the lectern and talked about Brenda’s love of poetry. Her old softball coach spoke about what a talented player she had been. Then Patty Detweiler Kressig stood up and made her way to the front of the funeral home. In her trembling hands she clutched a slim stack of index cards. She shook so hard, it took her a few minutes to arrange the cards and find her voice.
“Brenda Kloss was my best friend. We met in high school while riding the bus. It took us a while to become friends because she ran with the sporty group and I was a real nerd. She wasn’t a great student, but she had one goal—to keep her grades high enough so she could stay on the school team. So one day on the bus, she asked me if I would help her with her classes. I said sure, thinking how hard could it be? Of course, I didn’t know that she hadn’t cracked a book all semester!”
That brought a chuckle from the crowd.
“Brenda didn’t care much about our classes, because she had another love: softball. The sport was her passion. In fact, she hoped to get a scholarship to play on a college team.” Patty wiped at her eyes and spoke more softly now. “But as most of you know, she and her mother were in a bad car accident. Brenda’s pitching arm was broken in two places. The whiplash caused her to have terrible headaches.”
Mourners wiggled around in their seats. People who’d been watching Patty with interest, now stared down at their feet.
“That’s how Brenda became addicted to OxyContin. It’s also why she wanted to become a nurse. She wanted to help people, really she did, but the drugs slowly took over her life. At first, she knew she had a problem, and she wanted help. My brother Chad made a deal with her that if she got clean, they’d get married. I was her matron of honor. We all hoped she had broken free of the grip of addiction, but it wasn’t long after that Chad caught her sniffing crushed pills. By then, Brenda refused to believe she had a problem. Or if she did admit it, she said the problem was ours, not hers.”
Patty paused to get her emotions under control. Chad Detweiler’s youngest sister resembled their mother. She had Thelma’s strong features, and blond coloring, but her father’s long chin.
“The woman we are saying goodbye to this day is not the girl I knew in high school. Nor is she the woman I welcomed as a sister-in-law. Drugs changed everything for Brenda. Her life spun out of control. No matter how often we would stage an intervention, and she would promise to quit drugs, she would go right back to them as soon as she could. Eventually, I wasn’t her best friend anymore. Drugs were.”
Turning toward a couple huddled together in the front row, Patty said, “Mr. and Mrs. Kloss, you have suffered more than anyone else here. I am very sorry about tha
t. As I thought about what to say today, I tried to remember the sweet girl I knew who loved tossing around a softball. I know that’s how you’ll think of her, too. But the truth is … we lost Brenda a long, long time ago. We’re only gathering here today to say our last goodbye.”
I always carry tissues in my purse. Now I distributed them up and down the pew to the Detweilers. I cried, too. The thought of losing a child to drugs scared me, and Patty’s words were a chilling reminder how horrible addiction could be.
The minister seemed to realize he had been outdone by Patty’s remarks, because as she started for her seat, he practically raced to the front and center to deliver a rambling sermon cobbled together with random and vague comments about the difficulty of knowing God’s will. He mentioned three times that Brenda had been cut down in the prime of her life. His storehouse of quotations about death seemed endless, but none of them were comforting. Building up to his big finish, he nearly shouted, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!”—and Mrs. Kloss burst into noisy sobs.
Ugh. Like she needed a reminder that her child was decaying as we sat there, staring at that walnut box.
I couldn’t wait for that wretched man to shut up. When he finally ran out of steam, there was a small gasp from the audience. We’d all been holding our breath waiting for him to finish. The funeral director took charge, outlining the route that the hearse would take to the cemetery.
Since we were near the front, we were last out of the building. Like all the other mourners, we blinked in the sun and sent up prayers of thanks that the ordeal was over. Glances in Chad Detweiler’s direction were kinder now. Patty’s eulogy had been both heartfelt and effective.
“Come on back to the house with us,” suggested Thelma, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. “I promise no one is going to ask you to make any commitments other than asking what you’d like to eat.”
“There’s plenty of room in the station wagon,” Louis said. “One of us can bring you back for your car.”
He glanced down at my legs and did a double-take. “Gracious. That’s some tan you’ve got.”
I let that slide.
“Do you think we should go to the cemetery for the interment?” Patty asked.
“I suggest you take a pass. Chad has paid his respects. We made our presence known. It’s your call,” Schnabel said, turning to the tall, lean cop, “but without sheltering walls, you’ll be easy picking for the press.”
Detweiler nodded wearily. “It’s hard to know what to do. I want to show Brenda and her parents respect, but I also don’t want to agitate them. Maybe we should go before things get ugly.”
Carla and Milton Kloss stood a few yards away, hugging mourners and accepting their condolences. Both wore pained expressions on their faces. Carla stood a few feet from her husband, far enough that he realized she wasn’t by his side. Her dress sagged, its limp ruffles around the neckline and cuffs looking oddly clownish. Milton turned to locate his wife and draw her near. The expression on his face was unreadable, but it didn’t seem warm or loving.
Detweiler paused, looked their way and said to no one in particular, “It’s over. At least, my marriage to Brenda is. I never expected it to end this way.”
fifty-nine
Thelma took my hand and pulled me toward the back passenger door that Louis held open. “Come on, Kiki. You and Chad can sit back there with John Henry.”
Upon arrival at the Detweiler farm, I needed to use the restroom. I’ve always been a member of the frequent tinkler club, but pregnancy kicked my pee prompter into high gear. Once I finished my visit to the john, I sought out Patty. She was in the kitchen, helping her mother start coffee. “You did a wonderful job with your eulogy. I found myself wishing that I’d known Brenda before she … changed.”
“Thanks,” Patty said gruffly.
Ginny was taking down cups from the cabinets. “She’s right, Patty. You did yourself proud. It was nice. Of course, Carla got off lucky.”
Schnabel had wandered in and poured himself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the back of one of the kitchen chairs, he asked, “What do you mean, Ginny?”
Detweiler came and sat in a chair next to the one Schnabel was using as a prop. “Patty could have pulled the rug out from under our neighbor. Didn’t you notice Milton turning white as she walked up to the lectern? If the minister hadn’t left it open for people to comment, Patty wouldn’t have been invited to speak. You can take that to the bank.”
“I called the funeral director and asked him if mourners were going to be given the chance to say a few words,” Patty said, taking the seat across from the attorney. “I explained that I’d been her matron of honor at her wedding, and I wanted people to remember her kindly. He said he didn’t see why not. I asked him not to tell the Klosses because they had enough on their minds. I told him I wanted it to be a nice surprise.” Patty spoke to her fingers as they traced a pattern in the weave of her skirt. She had worn a simple white blouse, a navy sweater with leaves embroidered on it, and a navy skirt. She looked more like a boarding school student than an adult, but in a pleasant sort of way.
“I still am missing something here. Why did Ginny say that Mrs. Kloss got off easy?” Schnabel persisted.
“Because this is partially Carla’s fault and she knows it,” said Detweiler with a loud sigh.
“Now Chad don’t be so judgmental!” his mother quit spooning sugar into the sugar bowl and shook her head. “I know you’re upset, but still …”
“Mom, it’s true and you know it!” He looked from her to me and continued. “Carla was—is—an alcoholic. Back then, she was drunk more than she was sober. Yes, it’s true that she and Brenda were t-boned, but they were hit because Carla was too loaded to drive. She ran a stoplight and the other driver plowed into the side of their car. What Patty didn’t say is that the other driver was a young mom. She and her baby were both killed instantly. Afterwards, a local judge slapped Carla’s hands and fined her. But I’ll give her this, Carla started attending AA meetings shortly thereafter, and as far as I know, hasn’t had a drink since.”
“Which is laudable,” Thelma said. “But it came too late to help Brenda. That broken arm finished her softball career. The whiplash caused severe neck problems. Poor girl couldn’t sit longer than two hours without getting a headache. The doctors kept feeding her pain pills. No one worried about her getting hooked.”
“Mom, it wasn’t all the docs’ fault,” Detweiler said. “Brenda went from doctor to doctor getting scripts. They didn’t keep track as well as they should have. Certainly not as well as they do today. She knew how to play the system. Got scripts from physicians on both sides of the river. While she was in nursing school, she would befriend young docs and tell them she had a sports injury.”
“And Carla Kloss was responsible?” Schnabel mused, adjusting his somber navy and yellow striped bowtie.
Louis joined us and pulled up a chair. “Course not. No one forced Brenda to take pills. No family is perfect. Milt never was what you’d call a loving dad. Always acted like a son of a gun to Carla. He wanted a daughter so badly. Had two sons before Brenda came along. One boy died as a youngster, some genetic problem, the other in Iraq. Brenda, well, she was always a real tomboy and that bothered her daddy. She was happy playing baseball or golf or something her brothers liked to do. But Milton had his heart set on a girly-girl daughter. Said she should stay home and have babies. That man wanted grandkids almost as badly as he had wanted a daughter!”
“Louis!” Thelma shook a finger at him. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that!”
“The heck I don’t. At the barber shop, he lectured me about how Chad should keep Brenda in line by keeping her pregnant.”
“That’s hogwash,” Thelma said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Keep her in line?” Detweiler’s voice rose a notch. “Every time I tried to get her help, she�
��d run home to her parents!”
“Stop it!” Ginny formed a time-out sign with her hands. “That’s enough! Since when did we start talking this way to each other? Huh? They did their best! They’ve lost all their kids. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
Patty nodded. “Chad, they did try to get her to quit doing drugs. I heard Mr. Kloss screaming at her once over the phone. He asked her why she wasn’t strong enough to quit drugs since her mother had been strong enough to stop drinking. In the background, I heard Carla crying. That’s all Carla did. Cry and cry and cry.”
By the time Thelma served dessert, that’s all I wanted to do, too.
sixty
Iced tea only seems like it would be easy to make. Most people either brew it too long or dilute it so it’s too weak. Some put it in a coffee maker and wind up with a nasty mixture of coffee and tea flavoring. But Thelma Detweiler’s iced tea is outstanding. She even pours your tea over ice cubes with slices of lemon and a sprig of mint in them.
Emily joined us. Bits of hay stuck to her plain black skirt. She had wandered out to the barn to feed the many cats that Thelma kept rescuing and neutering.
“How are you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Sad.”
“You have every right to be,” I said. “It’s a sad day.”
“How’s Anya? Can she come visit soon?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I know she enjoys spending time with you.”
Sensing that the girl needed a task, Thelma asked Emily to cut and serve slices of homemade apple pie, while she doled out the cinnamon ice cream. The conversation about Milton Kloss and his daughter had dampened everyone’s spirits. Of course, my last visit to the Detweiler home left me somewhat subdued, but despite my hasty exit before, I felt welcome here.
“What’s the game plan, counselor?” Louis turned to Schnabel as he loosened his tie with all the gusto of a man ripping a noose off his neck.
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