“Dad, please.”
He hugged her, smoothing his hand over the back of her head, his tone pleading. “Just stay here, okay, sweetheart? For me? We need to be there to help Neil with Courtney… and Jared… We just don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”
He left her standing there, stunned, unable to absorb the blow. It tumbled through her like a storm.
She loved Helene. So much. Family… that’s what she’d been. It didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood. Helene had been there in every memory that counted.
But it was the thought of Jared being taken from her life that pushed Aly’s back up against the wall, her chest heaving when the grief finally struck.
“No,” she whispered. “Please, no.”
“Today we gather to celebrate the life of Helene Rose Holt.”
A deep, mournful sob broke in the row directly in front of Aly as the minister began to speak. Jared’s father, Neil, sat hunched over as he wept, and Neil’s father placed a hand on his slumped back. The older man’s words were indistinct as he whispered something in his son’s ear. Neil Holt shook harder and wept more.
Aly sucked in a breath, unable to hold back the tears falling from her eyes. Her throat felt so tight and her chest so empty. She’d been crying for days, and she didn’t know if she was ever going to stop.
Beside her, her mother squeezed her hand so tightly it hurt, as if the pain emanating from Neil Holt was her own burden, too.
Aly squeezed her back. None of this felt real to her. How could it be? It seemed impossible that someone could so suddenly be ripped away without warning. It seemed savage and cruel.
A gust of cold air stirred the surface of the ground and rustled through the barren trees. Branches creaked as they bowed, whining, as if they felt the void, too.
In front of her to the right, Courtney blinked down on Aly with her bright blue eyes. Her grandmother held her on her lap, Courtney’s arms wrapped around the old woman’s neck as she peered back at the gathered crowd, the nine-year-old little girl looking more stunned and confused than anything else.
On the other side of Aly, Christopher sat with his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in his hands. Most of the week he’d remained stoic, outwardly unaffected by the horror that had befallen their families. But Aly heard him crying at night, as if he couldn’t hold his own misery in anymore. He just wasn’t capable of showing anyone the way he really felt. Seeing him like that had scared her.
But it was Jared who terrified her.
Aly’s bleary eyes settled on the back of Jared’s head where he sat to the left of his father. He was unmoving. Still as stone.
As if he weren’t really there. His body was, but he wasn’t.
They’d waited to have the funeral until the day after he was discharged from the hospital. He’d been there for nearly a week recovering from broken ribs and a punctured lung. The doctors said he’d been lucky.
Aly stared at the back of his blond head of hair. It appeared stark white under the glaring winter sky, strands of it thrashing in the sharp gusts of wind that cut across the joyless ground, the relentless stirring at complete odds with the boy who sat comatose.
Lifeless.
Aly’s heart hurt. It’d been hurting for days, but seeing him like this was killing her. Only once had her mom allowed her to go with her to the hospital to visit him. The entire time Jared had pretended to be asleep, as if he didn’t know they were there. But Aly knew… She’d seen the flicker of his lids and the awareness in the twitch of his fingers.
What she’d expected today, she didn’t know. Crying, she guessed. That she would witness him mourn the way he should because Aly couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than losing your mother. She wanted to reach out, to touch him and tell him it was okay and that no one would blame him for grieving.
She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault.
But he just sat there, staring directly ahead as if he had some sort of detached fascination with the large spray of red roses blanketing the top of the white casket. Around it, pictures were arranged on easels: a picture of Helene as a little girl, one in her cap and gown, dancing with Neil on her wedding day, her face filled with absolute joy as she held her newborn baby boy, the last a recent family picture of the four of them. But Jared’s attention never strayed.
Maybe it was wrong that Aly noticed, that she was so aware of every move he made.
Helene’s sister, Cindy, rose and slowly approached the podium that had been set up to the left of the casket. Cindy sniffled and dabbed under her eyes with a tissue. “If you’re here today it’s because you had the great honor of knowing my little sister, Helene. I’m sure you’d all agree with me that she was the one of the kindest, most genuine people you’d ever meet.” A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. “She couldn’t walk in a room without making everyone else smile just because her joy was so infectious.”
She wet her lips, then continued. “My sister was the definition of warmth. Beautiful. Unforgettable. She cared so deeply for everyone. But her family was the most important thing in her world.” Cindy looked directly upon the front row. “Neil, Jared, Courtney… she loved you all so very much. I don’t want you to ever forget that. I’m going to keep those memories of her close to my heart, and I hope you’re able to do the same.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes pressed tight. She could barely continue to speak. “Thank you, everyone, for being here, for celebrating my sister’s life. No doubt she is watching over us now, thankful each of you is here.”
She stepped down and the minister took her place. He led them in a prayer. A somber and final “Amen” rolled over the gathering.
The casket was slowly lowered into the ground.
Aly’s mom whimpered.
This time Aly was the first to squeeze her mother’s hand. Her mom was hurting, and she wanted her to know that she understood. Helene had been her best friend, as close to her as a sister. Aly would never forget the way Helene’s warm laughter had constantly filled their house, the lilt of her quiet but strong voice, the way her kind eyes had watched and loved and encouraged.
Aly was going to miss her, too.
Once the coffin was fully lowered, the minister made an announcement that all could come forward to the grave to give their final respects. Afterward they were all invited to a reception taking place at the Moore home.
Jared’s grandfather helped Neil to stand, stayed at his side as he lumbered over the hard ground. He took a single, long-stemmed rose from a basket and dropped it into his wife’s grave. For a few minutes, he just stood there, staring, lost in the bleakness of finality, of what could never be taken back, never recovered, never regained.