“It’s the only way, Ms. Scott,” Taggert says sympathetically.
I stand, finding a strength I didn’t know I had. “No. It isn’t. His actions saved all of us. If he wouldn’t have stepped forward and told us it was Isabella, it could have been any one of us in that coffin, including you,” I spit the words towards Taggert. “His mother deserves to know he died bringing down an enemy or at least helping others. He died a hero. Maybe if she knew that, she could make some sense out of his death. Don’t tell me that’s the only way. Find another way.”
With that, before I really freak out and lose my temper even more, I storm out of the room and down the hallway. Sarge is on my heels and looks concerned. I manage to get into the elevator before Henry or Lyncoln catch up. I just need a moment alone.
In the elevator, I lose it when Sarge puts an arm around me and says, “I heard what you said back there and I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own daughter.”
****
I ask for Sarge to bring me lunch while I get ready. I already put my hand on the bible yesterday and got sworn in, thus sealing Oliver’s secret and chivalry among other things. Since the rest of the world will never know Oliver died a hero, they decided to hold a funeral for him here in Denver with just the Culling candidates and professors before taking his body home to his family. It will be our way to say goodbye. Elle asked me if I would say a few words and I told her I would. I have no idea what to say. Nothing I can say will make this situation better.
Frank and Gertie are trying to be cheerful and not mention the seriousness of a funeral, but they both seem worried about me. I wear a long sleeved black dress. It is tighter fitting and all solid black except for the spot on the back from my bra line up, which is lace. I wear my hair up in a bun and Frank applies light makeup. I have seen movies from before Trident. I look exactly how they looked at funerals, like someone in mourning.
I dread the time to leave as the clock ticks on, and yet all too soon it is time to go. Henry meets me at my door and we go down hand in hand. We enter the ballroom, which has been transformed with white flowers and chairs for the funeral. The lighting of the room is dim and sad and matches the emotions of the event. Although the drapes of the windows are pulled open so we can see out, it is still cloudy outside and dreary. At the end of the room there lays a casket beside a picture of a smiling Oliver.
Is Oliver’s body really in there? I don’t know. I don’t even care. He’s gone. All life has drained from his body. I saw it happen with my own eyes. Everything that makes Oliver, Oliver, is now gone.
We find a spot by Maverick and Elizabeth. I’m about to ask if we need to save a spot for Lyncoln when Henry shakes his head as he places his arm around me.
“He doesn’t do funerals,” he says as if reading my mind and I nod in understanding. It must bring back a flood of emotions for Lyncoln, forcing him to relive the hours after the horrifying way his father died.
“I’m sure you don’t ‘do’ them either. Are you doing okay?” I ask, reaching across Henry’s lap to squeeze his hand not already around me. This is probably bringing back all sorts of memories of his mom’s grandiose funeral. Which was probably also in this room.
He nods grimly. “I’m good. I had to decline doing a speech though. I did one for Mom’s and can’t bring myself to do it again.”
I smile understanding, knowing that today is going to be hard on the both of us. “Well afterwards if you need to go for a walk, or talk, or just need someone to sit there in silence with you, let me know, okay?”
He looks at me, emerald eyes full of emotion, a stark contrast to his black suit and tie. “I will. Thank you, Reagan. And right back at you.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and I nod.
The funeral begins with the typical funeral readings and a violin player playing a beautiful song. Before I have time to figure out what I’m going to say, the candidates’ speeches are starting. Maverick gives a short but meaningful speech. Marisol cries and blubbers about what a great person Oliver was and how much she liked him. Her words are beautiful and would be quite moving, except I know she never even gave him the time of day. As Trent starts speaking, I realize it’s my turn next and I still have no idea what I’m going to say.
“Do you want me to go up there with you?” Henry asks, squeezing my hand as if trying to channel me more confidence. I know he doesn’t want to be up there at all, so the fact that he’s offered to do it anyway means a lot to me. He would sacrifice his own discomfort and battle with his own demons in order to be there for me.
“No. Thank you, but I think I have to do this alone.” I smile at him affectionately. He has given me space when I needed it and held me when I needed it. Henry is a great partner even through this nightmare.
As Trent finishes, I walk to the stage and stand at the front of the room, taking out my notecard and placing it on the podium before me. The notecard is blank but will give me something to look at if I stumble or need a break. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
“When I first met Oliver, I was genuinely surprised at how kind and funny he was,” I begin. “If there is one word to describe Oliver, it is joyful. He was always making a joke or making someone laugh without even meaning to. He also had a kind heart and would be there if you ever needed him.” I stop a moment, take a shaky breath, and look around the room. I spot Lyncoln leaning against the wall beside the door, also in a black suit and tie. He looks me straight in the eyes and I look back at him, trying to use his affectionate gaze as fuel to get me through this in one piece.
I take a deep breath, look at my notecard, and keep going. “That being said, now when I think of Oliver, I struggle not to remember the tragic manner in which he died and that he died saving us all. How can someone so vibrant and full of joy be gone? Could anything have been done to prevent his death? Would I still be here today if it weren’t for him?” I breathe out a deep breath again, trying not to cry. “But this is what I am learning of grief…grief demands answers to unwarranted questions. It is completely relentless and consuming…and cruel.”
I stop and look Lyncoln dead in the eyes. His eyes are full of emotion and although he isn’t crying, he looks like he could, which is shocking because he always, always keeps his emotions in check. I almost lose it, but take a steadying breath instead. I feel the tears pooling in my eyes but force them to not spill over, blinking forcefully a few times to make sure they don’t.
“The thing is though, if Oliver were here, he wouldn’t want any of that. He would tell a joke to try to make it better, or use one of his thousands of hilarious hand gestures.” I pause as people softly chuckle and smile as they remember. “So in order to honor Oliver as we battle being completely absorbed by our grief, instead of remembering him by the manner in which he died, we must remember him by the manner in which he lived.” I pause again as tears threaten to spill over. I look at Henry who is also teary eyed. He waves to me with two fingers like when we met. His gesture wills me to have the strength to continue and finish.
“Because he lived. He really lived.” I almost lose it again, but keep it together somehow when I look at the blank notecard. “We need to honor him for the courageous, vibrant, and animated way he lived. Anything less than that would be an insult to his legacy. So please join me in a round of applause. To Oliver. May we follow his example and live our lives joyfully and selflessly. Well done, Oliver. We will miss you.” As I finish, a lone tear escapes and falls down my cheek. I turn towards his casket and start clapping.
Henry is the first to stand as he claps and the rest of the room joins. We clap for a while in appreciation for Oliver and the life he lived. With the claps still going, I turn to leave the podium and none other than the President himself is there clapping.
I shake his hand, smile, and turn to go back to my seat. Everyone else sits back down for the next speech, his.
The President grabs my arm gently. “Here, Ms. Scott. You forgot your notecard.” He says it softly an
d then his eyebrows furrow in confusion as he flips it over and then back over.
I take it from him anyway. “Thank you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “That was straight from the hip?” He shakes his head, smiling at me kindly, and then turns to the podium and begins speaking. He talks about loss and the honor Oliver died with.
I listen but just feel relieved and glad to be back in my seat. Henry’s arm around my shoulder warms me. He rests his head against mine for a minute and I know what he’s thinking, that we’ve almost made it through this thing.
“A famous quote reads, ‘It’s not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years,’” President Maxwell finishes. “If that were the case with Oliver, he lived a short but full life.”
Chapter 23
The next day we are to be busy back at it with simulations, practice at the range, and Dougall starting our training for the live interviews for the nation. I am so numb from losing Oliver that I don’t even realize that I have made the final eight couples until October brings it up that morning at breakfast. I came down early making a point to chat with her since I wasn’t doing much sleeping anyway. I feel like I keep getting close to people and then they leave…or worse. October suspects she is going home soon, so I’m trying to enjoy the time I do have left with this quirky and genius girl.
“Wow. I had no idea,” I say surprised when October reminds me about the promotions.
I got this far. I got my parents more influence and two promotions. I know this will mean the world to them. Now they will be reevaluated for leadership positions. I want to make it to the final four, not just so I can have the opportunity to stay in Denver with the men in my life, but I also want to make it farther for me. Can I do this? Do I have what it takes? After the past few days, I’m not so sure. But then I remember Oliver telling me to win.
I have to give it all I’ve got.
“I bet they’ll wait a week and then make the next cut.” October shrugs. “I don’t think they would send anyone home right after all this. And plus, whoever they send home now will have to go through the debriefing process.”
“I hope no more cuts are made for a while.” The lunch room now has only one long table instead of three. Marisol, Sapphire, Christopher, and Hugh sit at the opposite end of the table as I do. Haley, Bronson, Morgan, and Trent usually pose as the barrier between them and us, mostly because both couples are good at breaking the tension with a quick joke or inappropriate comment. No one can be angry or mad especially in the presence of Trent.
“Well whenever I go, know that I won’t be mad,” October smiles.
“I bet you are ready to see Lucas.” I never could fathom the need to be around someone so often before coming here. I thought it was needy or clingy that girls would talk about missing their boyfriends. Now that I have a “boyfriend”, or two, I see why all these girls were so enamored. I would definitely miss Henry or Lyncoln if they were gone.
“I am,” she smiles shyly. “And it has been hard, but I appreciate him more because of it. I just want to get back to normal although I’m not sure what normal is now. I will constantly be thinking about Denver and the drifters and what is going on. It’s hard to play dumb when you’ve been dealt the perfect hand. I don’t know how to go back to just teaching now.”
Knowing that October’s mind never stops, I understand what she means. If I were to go home today, I would constantly be in fear for my family. I’m not sure it’s even fair to keep the rest of the country in the dark. I know the powers to be think they are keeping everyone safe, but wouldn’t everyone feel more united if they knew? And is October supposed to keep this secret from Lucas? Even when they are married? Is that fair to her?
October looks around suspiciously before lowering her voice, “So, have you decided what you are going to do yet? I’m supposed to find out for Marisol. Not to worry, I won’t tell her anything. Didn’t tell her you had a deadline either.” She smirks and grins a sly smile that looks almost evil.
“Remind me to stay on your good side.” I stop to laugh. “And no. I haven’t.” I pause again, this time to think. “Either way I will be judged. Either people will think I chose Henry because of who he is or they’ll think I chose Lyncoln because he is essentially a military star.”
“Want some advice?” she asks kindly.
“Absolutely,” I sigh.
“Don’t pick who is best for the country, because either of them are fine choices. Don’t pick who is best for winning, because it isn’t all about winning. Pick who you want to pick. Think about meeting them back home in Omaha, not in this crazy situation. Who would you pick if you just randomly met them? No sims, no tests, no important parents or careers, no nothing. Blur it all out. It’s just you and this person and no one else on Earth. Who do you want there? Who do you want to walk down that aisle towards?”
“My problem is that my head and my gut aren’t agreeing.” I shake my head while thinking about what she said, which may be the most romantic and unpractical thing October has ever said in her life.
“Take it from me, who values intelligence over everything else, the brain is your fear mechanism whereas your heart is the gateway to your soul. Ignore all the details and just go with your heart.”
****
After breakfast, we are informed we will be starting our longer sims. Starting today they will be two-hours long, tomorrow doubling to four hours, and then double again to our big eight-hour sim test. An eight-hour sim? Come on. That’s gunna suck.
On a whim, Elizabeth, Attie, October, and I decide to go together for a two-hour sim.
“All girls?” Bennett looks at us almost scolding, settling his eyes on me as if I’m to blame.
“Yeah.” I shrug. I don’t think I’ve been his favorite person as of late.
“You realize without your significant other, your partner, your chances of termination are greatly increased? And this does go towards your total rank?” he asks, staring at us all seriously.
“Actually, Professor Bennett, as long as it’s someone you trust, we should be fine. Why not let us and just see what happens?” October corrects him and then tries to persuade him.
He finally gives in. Two hours later, we all walk away victorious. Not even meaning to, we kind of made a statement. We are all women and we could defend ourselves just fine. I feel oddly invigorated and know that Oliver would salute us if he were here. Having had such a great time together, we decide to get together tonight for a girls night. Who knows how long we have with each other anyway.
At dinner that evening, Henry gives me a kiss on the cheek as he sits down beside me. He seems tired and worried. I almost think about canceling girls’ night right then and there, but can’t bring myself to do it. I grab his hand and give it a squeeze under the table. I have no idea how I would’ve gotten through the last 72 hours without him.
“Hey, I heard you had an all-girls sim.” He smiles, dimples out.
“Ummm, yeah, we did! And we kicked--what’s the word again, Knox?” Attie asks.
“Tukis.” Knox rolls his eyes but smiles.
“Tukis,” Attie says in confidence. “Knox tells me it is a more sophisticated word for butt.”
October just shakes her head. “Good luck with that one,” she smiles to Knox while pointing to Attie then she turns to point to Henry. “You. We are all getting together tonight for a girls’ night, so don’t think you get to steal her,” she points at me, “from us.”
“Did I just hear the words, ‘girls’ night’?” Lyncoln asks, setting his tray down and sitting on the other side of me.
“You did. But it isn’t all the girls so do try to contain yourself. We all know you have an issue with being gossipy,” October jokes. Having never seen her call someone out or be so jovial, I almost spit out the tea I was taking a drink of. Lyncoln shakes his head amused and pats me on the back as I cough.
“Not again,” Maverick shakes his head. “This girl can’t hang.”
Eliz
abeth is giggling away and I’m not sure if it is at what October said, or at my choking on my tea, or both.
“Are you talking about me or Reagan?” she asks as she giggles harder.
“Yes,” Maverick responds and we all laugh. Laughter feels oddly welcomed after Oliver’s death. I know it is what he would have wanted.
It’s times like these that this doesn’t even seem like a competition and I don’t want it to come to an end. Not just because I have to make a decision between Henry and Lyncoln soon, but because I will miss all of them. I think of Marcia, Vanessa, and even Renae. I spend all this time with these people and then just never get to see them again? They aren’t just friends. If there is anything that Oliver’s death has taught me, it’s that I care for these people like family.
****
After making fun of people and laughing for hours, the girl talk takes a serious turn. October tells the others she was spying and that Marisol has a lot of power and to look out. We ask about each other’s love lives. Naturally, I don’t feel like chipping in and they call me on it.
“So Reagan?” Attie asks kindly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes and no. I have to make a decision soon. I just have never been that girl before, that girl that gets the boys, or even a half a second of their attention, and yet here I am trying to decide between two men who are...” I shrug not even knowing how to describe the both of them.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth offers sympathetically. Since she had seven or eight suitors that first night, she might understand what I’m feeling.
“Me too,” Attie sympathizes and pauses before shouting, “Group hug!” She launches herself at me while Elizabeth hugs me from the other side and October, in true October fashion, just stands there with her eyebrows up.
“Do you know what you are going to do yet?” Elizabeth asks after they finally release me.
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 42