Sedona scurries out of her chair and climbs into Savannah’s lap. Austin and Rome look as if they’re seconds from crying based on their trembling chins. Kingston is openly sobbing with his arm slung over Phoenix at the end of the line. I’m focused on Juno, who sits in her chair with her legs crossed and not one tear falling down her cheeks.
The double black caskets are covered in an array of pastel-colored roses with Mr. and Mrs. Bailey’s wedding picture on an easel between them. The preacher continues his speech about grief and how we can honor them through our memories. Austin leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and I watch intently to see if he’s finally going to break.
My mom squeezes my hand tighter and a howling sound escapes her as the preacher finally finishes his speech about how the Baileys will be watching us like angels and that they couldn’t live on this Earth without each other, so God took them together. Then he excuses us and says the family would like some private time.
A lady from the church hands each kid two roses of a different color.
All the guests walk down the steep hill, but I keep looking over my shoulder to check on Juno.
My mom stops to talk to Mrs. Johnson, carrying on about how sad it is and asking if anyone has heard whether their grandma will raise them. Austin’s due to graduate from college in May and there’re rumors about him being drafted to play in the pros. Savannah’s only nineteen, but maybe she’ll return from college as well. They talk about Bailey Timber and who will run the family business. They make it all sound so hopeless, that the Bailey kids have nothing now.
I stray away from my parents, walking up the hill enough to get a better view of the Baileys. Liam Kelly’s leaning under a tree and I pause a few feet from him. He quickly swipes at his face when he notices me. How can a guy that big, the guy who gets into fights, cry?
We watch each kid put a rose on each casket. Savannah gently lays hers down while Rome tosses his in. Then they join hands and circle the caskets with their grandma and the preacher. We can’t hear what is said, but all their heads bow, and when they rise, all of them are crying. Well, all of them except Juno. Austin swipes his tears with his palm, looking around at his siblings as though he needs to remain tough being the oldest.
“They’ll need us, you know?” Liam says. “We have to be the best damn friends they could ever have.”
I nod. “I know.”
The Bailey kids break apart, and Savannah walks down the hill first, Sedona and Phoenix on either side of her and holding her hands. Brooklyn follows, patting her face with a Kleenex while Austin and Rome are behind her. Then Juno and Kingston bring up the rear. Her arm is around her younger brother, who looks as if he’s barely hanging on as he glances back over his shoulder at the caskets. As they get halfway down the hill, Kingston runs back up and lays himself over his mother’s casket.
It feels as though it all happens in slow motion. Juno calling out to Austin. Austin stopping and looking back. His quick jog back up the hill. As soon as he picks up Kingston and holds him, the moms still lingering around whimper. Kingston hits Austin with his fists to try to get down. I look around and see everyone watching the scene unfold. It’s heartbreaking that the Bailey kids have to live through this with a spotlight on them.
“Well, shit,” Liam says, his chin falling to his chest.
Austin holds Kingston and sets him on a bench that faces the caskets as Savannah organizes the rest of the kids into the awaiting cars.
As if that’s the cue for all the gawking bystanders, Liam and I get called over by our parents. On my way to my parents’ car, I watch Juno stare one more time at her brothers on the top of the hill before she slides into the back seat of the car. Still not one tear.
Although there aren’t a lot of words shared between Liam and I, we share the same goal—be there for the Bailey kids from this day forward.
An hour later, we’re at the Bailey house. My mom is in the kitchen, distracting herself by refilling serving platters and cleaning. Mrs. Kelly is there too, but every time I go in the kitchen, she’s staring out the window, washing a dish.
I’ve looked everywhere for Juno since I got here and nothing.
Denver finally showed up, and he’s playing basketball in the driveway with Rome and Liam. Kingston is pretty much following Austin around, and Phoenix and Sedona are playing games in the basement with the other kids. Brooklyn is with her group of friends on the back porch while Savannah makes the rounds and talks to each of the guests, reassuring everyone that they are fine, and it will all work out.
When I walk around their house and spot the treehouse, I could hit myself in the forehead. The treehouse is where Juno hides when she wants to be alone. That summer when the family joke was that Juno wasn’t a real Bailey because of her red hair, she ran off in the middle of a barbeque and hid up there. Mrs. Bailey followed and got her to come back down an hour later.
“Juno,” I say, calling up. The ladder has been taken up, which is a dead giveaway that she’s up there.
Nothing but silence.
“I know you’re up there. Come on.”
Still nothing, so I look at my khaki pants and button-down shirt. My mom will be pissed if I ruin them, but what choice do I have? I scale the tree and climb in through a window.
“Colton.” She sounds upset, but she doesn’t tell me to leave. Her black shoes lay haphazardly in the corner as though she flung them off the minute she got up here.
“Have you eaten?” I should’ve brought her food.
“Not hungry.” She stares at the picture of her Aunt Etta while she bounces a ball across the small space. Ever since the talk with her mom, that picture has hung in the treehouse. Along with astrology books and books on reading palms and other crap that doesn’t interest me.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
She looks up from bouncing her small ball. “What did you think about our kiss?”
That’s not the question I thought would come out of her mouth. I’ve guiltily thought about the kiss the past few days. Hell, I’ve even envisioned more happened between us.
“It was nice,” I say.
“Nice?” She obviously doesn’t like me using that word. “You don’t say nice to describe a kiss, Colton.”
I shrug. “I liked it.”
“Me too.” She goes back to bouncing her ball. “But it can never happen again.”
I’m nodding until I register her words, then I stop. “What? Why?”
She tosses me the ball and I catch it before throwing it back to her. “Do you remember how close Savannah was to Jeremy Crandle? They were inseparable. I overheard her talking to her friends on the phone last year and she told them that she finally kissed him. That was it—Jeremy Crandle was never seen again.”
“Doesn’t he live in New York or something?” There were a lot of rumors about Jeremy Crandle. Maybe Savannah wasn’t his type only because she was a girl.
“Exactly. So me and you? Friends forever and never more. Okay?” She grabs the ball and tucks it into the skirt of her dress.
“Did you not like the kiss?” I ask. She can tell me. I might ask her to be my practice buddy, but I want her to tell me before I play another game of Spin the Bottle.