Mary was the last to speak. She looked sullen and sounded almost insolent. “Funerals are supposed to be religious, but I'm not a spiritual person,” she began with a critical sound in her voice, “and I don't have any Bible stuff to say.” Mary took a deep breath. “I can only tell you that I loved my grandmother and…” Abruptly her defiant tone cracked and Mary started crying. “I—I'm sorry,” she sputtered. “I know we all a-a-re s-sad.” Mary's voice faded and she abruptly slipped behind Matthew as if trying to disappear from the crowd staring at her. The entire family began crying.
Graham hurried to the mike. “Thank you, family. This time hasn't been easy for any of us, but we wanted to say what was on our hearts. We're going to close this remembrance by opening the casket and letting each of you who wishes to file by and say any final farewells to Maria Peck that you might have.” Graham nodded to Cassoday. “We'll start now.”
Cassoday walked forward with more dignity that Graham had previously seen in the man. His employee walked with him and Mrs. Hutchinson brought up the rear. They opened the lid to the casket and began making the final arrangements.
Graham turned away and the family moved over to the side of the tent. Cassoday and Hutchinson began to send people by the casket. Some stopped while others avoided the sight, moving on quickly to shake hands with the family. Graham kept his smile fixed in place. The line shuffled past the family until the endless line of faces became a blur.
As they finished shaking hands, the mourners returned to their cars and quickly drove away. Finally only Graham, the family, and a few friends were standing by the grave while Cassoday and his man lowered the casket into the ground.
Slowly the metal rigging mechanically lowered the bronze casket into the earth. Cassoday moved quickly back and forth around the chrome rails with seeming indifference the job. He directed two of the cemetery employees about what to do next and the men went to work immediately. No one said much, but they moved with a precision born of having done the job a thousand times.
Jackie took George and Jeff's hands and started leading the children back to the funeral home's limousine. Mary walked behind her, staring at the snow-covered ground and not speaking. Matthew lingered near the last guest's car talking to a friend. Only Graham was left by the grave.
The dirt began to tumble into the hole, splattering across the top of the metal casket. Each clot hit with a hallow thud and then broke into a hundred little pieces.
What difference does it make? Graham thought. Maybe Mom truly is completely gone? could she have any awareness of this ceremony today? He shook his head.
Graham started walking away, but stopped and took one last look. All Graham could see was the hole.
CHAPTER 15
THE DAY AFTER Maria Peck's graveside service, a solemn quietness fell over the house. Mary and George went back to their schools and Jeff to his preschool. Matthew returned to Northwestern while Graham and Jackie began gathering up Maria's effects and putting them in boxes.
The move alone to Arlington Heights cleaned out tons of Maria's accumulations from over the years, but her bedroom still contained jewelry pins, broaches, artifacts, remembrances from Graham's father, and old, old clothes. The arduous task of clearing out the accumulation heaped an emotional drag on both Graham and Jackie.
After an hour, Jackie looked at him with a pained expression. “We need to get the job done before the children come home.” she looked around at some of the empty drawers. “We don't want them to see us throwing out Maria's possessions.”
“Yeah, but it's becoming impossible for me.”
Jackie nodded and went back to placing some inexpensive costume jewelry into one of the trash bags.
“Where are we going to take Mother's clothes?” Graham asked.
Jackie scratched her head. “Good question. How about the salvation Army?”
“They're still open? I heard they vanished about the same time when all those other people disappeared.” He reached for the telephone directory. “I'll see if they're interested.”
“Good.” Jackie opened the closet door. “She kept some nice dresses that I'd think somebody would want.” Jackie pushed several of the pieces together. “Your mother had good taste. I would think these might sell in a secondhand store.”
Graham kept dialing. “strange. No one answers at any of the numbers listed in the directory.”
“Anymore you can't depend on anything! The world's filled with crazy people.” She rubbed her mouth thought fully. “Call a nearly-new shop across town and see if they would sell the dresses.”
“Look. Find a place and give them everything.” Graham's voice started getting louder. “I simply want to get this job done.” Graham abruptly walked out of the room.
“Wait!” Jackie reached out to grab his arm, but Graham hurried through the door like he was fleeing a fire. “Hey!” she called after him.
Graham didn't turn around, but kept stomping into the kitchen. He rounded a corner and hit the deacon's table hard. Graham grabbed his shin. The excruciating pain shot up his leg. With a swift blow, he pounded the table and then crumpled into a chair. Tears he'd pushing back all day exploded. Graham's body shook and he crumpled up with his face in his hands. For several minutes nothing stopped the cascade of grief plunging from Graham's heart.
From out of nowhere the kitchen started to change, to rearrange itself, and for a few seconds he was a little boy back in his mother's kitchen, but the scene quickly faded. He suddenly felt Jackie's hand gently lying on his neck.
“I know this time is very difficult for you,” Jackie said.
Graham could only nod.
She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “Don't worry. We'll get through this struggle together. I know it won't be easy, but we will.” Jackie sat down next to him. “I think it would be better if you went back to work downtown and let me finish cleaning up in the bedroom. Don't you think so?”
Graham sighed. “I don't know.”
“Look, Graham. We've been through a horrendous experience. You've taken care of all of us, but now, it's time for you to get back to a more familiar world, more natural for you. Your office would be good for you. Don't worry, I can finish taking care of your mother's bedroom.”
Graham drummed on the tabletop with his fingers. “It's so difficult to throw away Mother's precious possessions. They aren't worth much, but they mattered to her. It's hard to watch.”
“Yes, I know.”
Graham ran his hands through his hair and wiped his eyes. “I also know Bridges's reelection campaign isn't going so hot right now. Sarah Cates says that the mayor is overplaying his hand in some affluent areas of the city and not paying much attention to the problems of the poor. It hasn't gone well this past week.”
“I can see the scene. Bridges has his excessive moments.”
Graham wiped his eyes, but didn't speak.
“And that's why I think you need to get back to the office. Whatever is wrong with Bridges, he's better than the opposition. You need to make sure all the pieces in the puzzle are falling into place so he'll get his job back.”
Graham shook his head. “It's a hard decision, but I think this is an important time in the reelection office.”
Jackie held his hand and looked deeply into Graham's eyes. “Darling, I need to be honest. Your eyes look more troubled than merely tired and stressed. Your mother's death has left all of us depressed. Don't you feel like a dark cloud has descended over your head?”
“No, of course not!” Graham snapped.
“Well! I'd say that answer came way, way too fast. Sounds a little defensive to me.”
“Well, aren't you depressed?”
“Of course.”
Graham started to speak, but stopped. “I don't know,” he mumbled.
“I do know. Here's another reason to get you back to the office; hard work might help lighten your depression.”
“Yes, obviously I feel like a truck hit me.”
“That's what I mean. You need to be in your office.”
“You're probably right.”
“One other thing.” Jackie kept squeezing his hand. “I believe it would be good for both of us to join some group that would help us get beyond ourselves… maybe, a growth group or a grief encounter session.”
“Heavens no! Jackie, you know I'm not an honesty freak; I certainly don't need to air any dirty linen, particularly during this political campaign.”
“I wasn't thinking about sharing anything negative, but simply being with some good people. They tell me new groups have sprung up since all the churches closed.” Jackie brightened. “They're calling these meetings Sunday Encounter Times.”
“Sunday Encounter Times?” Graham grimaced. “You're serious?”
“Sure. Apparently many people are floating around out there that once went Sunday services at some church every now and then. They find the Encounter Times to be helpful.”
“What in the world do they talk about in those places?”
Jackie leaned back in her chair. “Well, I hear they explore timely topics like investing money, taking vacation trips. All kinds of activities.”
“Sounds bizarre to me.”
“Come on, Graham. We never got into the habit of going to church, but many people did. They met friends.”
“That's what a church was about?” Graham winced. “Good times?”
“I don't know.” Jackie shrugged. “I never went, but I can see how a good atmosphere might provide a nice place to meet people if you were new in the community.”
“Doesn't sound like me and I'm certainly not new around here.”
“Graham, you're being obstinate. I understand they have motivational speakers and self-help classes. Maybe something of that order would be good for depression.”
“Jackie, I know you're trying to help me.” Graham leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I appreciate your concern, but I think you ought to attend by yourself and see if these Encounter Times do anything for you. You can bring back a report and then I'll think about it.”
“Just be open to a new possibility. Okay? What do you think about that option?”
“I think I need to go back to the office. Getting back in harness would be a far better way to help me start going again.”
Jackie went back to cleaning. Graham walked to his closet and started putting on a tie and his suit. He moved with lackluster speed, but eventually got himself together. Thirty minutes later, Graham felt ready to leave the house.
“Jackie!” he called from the front door. “I'm going to the office now.”
Jackie came out of the bedroom. “I turned on the television a few minutes ago. I think you ought to look at this before you leave.”
“Television?” Graham walked over and flipped on the set. “What are you talking about?”
“Watch.”
The gray of the screen faded and an announcer was standing in front of the Museum of Science and Industry Building off Fifty-fifth Street. Flames shot out of the windows and smoke roared up from the roof into the sky.
“As we reported a few minutes ago, a bomb went off in the basement of the museum while sightseers were packed in the building. You can see that the damage is extensive and many people have been killed.”
A black limousine drove up a few feet away from the announcer. Frank Bridges and Jake Pemrose jumped out of the car and rushed toward the burning building.
“Mayor!” the announcer yelled and stuck out his microphone. “Please, can you make a statement.”
Bridges stopped and nodded.
“What can you tell us about this explosion, sir?”
“It's too early for me to make any judgments.” Bridges spoke briskly. “Of course, we are deeply concerned.”
“We have some sources with the fire department saying they believe this is the work of terrorists.”
The mayor shrugged. “I will be listening to their discoveries and have a comment as soon as we have the data. The people of Chicago can rest in the fact that their elected leaders are on top of this problem and will communicate with them hopefully by this evening. Thank you.” Bridges hurried toward the burning building.
“There you have it,” the announcer said. “The mayor will possibly have a full statement on our nightly news. We will continue to follow these developments. Please be calm. There is no reason to panic.”
Graham stared at the television set. “That's a bad sign. Looks like they will definitely need me at the office. Maybe it's a terrorist attack and then again, maybe not. Call Sarah Cates and tell her I'm coming down.”
Jackie kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful.”
Graham nodded. “Sure.” He hurried toward the door and then stopped. “Oh, yes. Turn on the security system as soon as I walk out of the door.”
CHAPTER 16
GRAHAM RUSHED into the reelection headquarters and walked toward his office. Jackie had already called Sarah Cates from their home, saying she should be ready for whatever the mayor would have them do in light of the explosion at Museum of Science and Industry. Without glancing at anyone in particular, Peck closed the glass door behind him and hurried past the secretaries. People normally straightened up when he walked in, offering warm “hellos”; but this time, no one looked up. It didn't strike him as odd until he walked about twenty feet; only then did he realize that the secretaries looked away as he passed. He slowed his pace, expecting to hear something, anything, but no one seemed to notice.
For a moment, Peck thought he had turned into the invisible man, or become a mist, a vapor, floating down the hall toward a chimney. Graham walked completely through the office without anyone speaking.
“Oh! Hello, Graham,” one of Al Meacham's assistants sitting at the end of the room said nervously. “Glad to have you back.” The man stood up and immediately walked toward the water cooler. A secretary smiled perfunctorily and then ducked her head.
Graham turned the corner and saw Sarah Cates sitting at her desk typing.
“Graham!” Sarah immediately stood up. “You certainly got here in a hurry.”
“Sounds like we've got a problem over on Fifty-fifth Street,” Graham said.
“Big!” Sarah's eyes widened. “Terribly big. I got a call moments ago from the mayor and he was extremely pleased you would be here today. He wants you to call him on his personal cell phone immediately.”
“I'll make it in my office.”
“He changed his phone number a couple of days ago to prevent any media intercepting his calls.” Sarah handed Graham a piece of paper. “I wrote the new number down for you.”
“Thanks.” Graham took the note from Sarah and closed his office door behind him. He punched in the numbers and put the phone to his ear. “Mayor, this is Graham Peck. I'm in the office.”
“Good! Excellent!” Bridges shot back. “I'm on my way back to the office. We will have a staff meeting when I get there. Shouldn't be fifteen or twenty minutes from now. We have some urgent problems to discuss.”
“I'll be there.” The phone clicked off.
For a few moments Graham didn't move, holding the telephone in his hand. The mayor hadn't mentioned Maria's death either. His rapidly spinning world had come to a shrieking halt; he had never felt so lonely as he did in that moment. Obviously, no one in the building wanted to speak to him. Had his mother's death turned him into a pariah? Was there something about him that was different from all of those other uncountable days he had walked through the office just as he did this morning?
He reached over and punched the intercom button. “Mrs. Cates, please come in.”
Moments later the door opened and the secretary walked in with a notepad in hand. “You called. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Please sit down.”
Sarah Cates kept the warm smile firmly in place. Her eyes looked far less assured and she seemed slightly nervous.
“Sarah,” Graham began uncharacteristically, “level with
me. What's wrong out there?”
“Out there?” Sarah shrugged.
“Look. I walked in here today and nobody even looked at me. No one has said a word about what happened in my family, and even you seem a little tense.”
The smile disappeared from Sarah Cates's face. She didn't answer.
“So, tell me.” Graham leaned forward across his desk. “Why am I getting the distant treatment?”
Sarah looked down at the floor for a minute and then took a deep breath. “No one knows what to say, Graham. Death is… a… well… one of those things we simply don't talk about. No one knows how to think about dying and then one of us has a family member killed.” Sarah cleared her throat nervously. “They're all good people, but they don't know how to respond to you. That's the problem.”
“My mother's death has made me an outcast?”
“Look, Graham. None of the staff has any negative feelings toward you personally. It's just that they don't want to talk about death.” Sarah shifted nervously in her chair. “The truth is that they don't even want to think about dying or disappearing.”
Peck slowly leaned back in his chair, staring at his secretary. “This is the way we deal with death these days?”
“Graham, no one knows what's happened to millions of people that disappeared in an instant. We don't want to think about it, remember it, see it, much less talk about it at work.”
“I see,” Graham said slowly and deliberately. “Death is now the final obscenity. We shouldn't use the word in polite company?” He pushed back from his desk. “Thank you for your honesty.” Graham pointed toward the door. “Please call me soon as the mayor is back here for the staff meeting.”
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