Of them all perhaps, Big Ben was the worst off. He had now lost all four of the people he had viewed as his own children and was a broken shadow of his former self. His eyes were lost, swiveling around without focus while his mouth worked soundlessly.
Breytenbach stared at the surrounding faces. He had met them only a few days ago and yet, now they were part of a whole, a community of kindred souls bound together in loss and suffering. But also triumph.
He knew their stories as they knew his and he felt a surge of affection for them. They would live, he decided. Live and prosper in this new world. He would make sure of that. He would do for them what he couldn't do for all the others before.
The quiet drone of Dave's voice filled the air as he recited Psalm 23 from the battered, pocket Bible he always carried with him. It had been Morgan's favorite.
'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'
The words whispered through the air, offering hope and absolution, filling them all with a bittersweet sadness. Except Logan. Since his return, he had not said a word nor looked at anyone.
Nobody had dared to ask what happened to Angie. They could all see her fate etched in his features. There had been no mercy for her.
Breytenbach knew that the deed itself would change Logan forever. A man cannot kill with such cold-blooded cruelty and not have it stain his soul with the act, no matter how justified.
It would follow him like a shadow, haunt his dreams and whisper in his ears. Breytenbach knew this for he himself was haunted by past deeds. Deeds that would stay with him until his last breath.
The old Logan was gone. He looked like a man fashioned of steel. No emotion could be seen in those hard, gray eyes and Breytenbach wondered what he would do next. For a man to have nothing, only to find everything then lose it was a hard, hard thing.
When the last shovelful of dirt covered the grave, Logan turned and walked away. Breytenbach watched as he climbed into his old Land Rover and pulled away leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
Knowing that there was nothing anybody could say or do to make it better, Breytenbach let him go. Perhaps, in time, the wounds on Logan's heart would heal.
After the service, Breytenbach put his arm around Julianne and led her and Meghan away, taking them somewhere they could grieve in peace.
Sam was the only one who seemed oblivious to the atmosphere. A monarch butterfly flitted past her face, brushing across her baby-soft skin and she giggled, pudgy hands swinging in the air.
Her childish laughter prompted smiles from Julianne and Meghan. As the sun set, Breytenbach felt sure there would be another. Days filled with sorrow, perhaps, but also joy and happiness.
We will last another day.
Last Another Day Page 24