My heart contracts in my chest, and I struggle to keep my emotions in check.Holding Remi by his arm, I move him toward a couple of empty chairs.Once seated, I scan the space, noting the large posters with the image of Ryan still very much alive.Ryan as a little boy, one on horseback, one wearing his uniform, several with friends, and one with his mother, which is where my eyes linger and fill with tears.
In the picture he’s already a head taller than she is, the smiles on both their faces reflective of happier times.I wonder if there will come a time that those are the kinds of moments Pam will remember first, rather than the darker, final phase of her son’s life.
“Mom…”
I turn to find Remi’s eyes on me, concern all over his face.
“I’m fine, honey.I’m just fine,” I assure him, blinking away the tears as I swallow hard.
The service is heart-wrenching and wonderful at the same time.His football coach, an aunt, a friend, and finally, his mother all speak of him, their words drawing a picture of the boy he was.They talk about the things he loved, his hobbies, favorite foods, pet peeves, funny anecdotes.
There is laughing and crying, but by the time the service is over, and people start filing past the pictures and Ryan’s mother to pay their respects, I feel I’ve gotten to know the boy I first saw lying at the bottom of a cliff, his red ball cap just a few feet from him.
I sneak a peek at Remi, who has grown paler and paler over the course of the past forty minutes.
“Are you okay?”I whisper, as we inch our way toward the front and Pam Wells.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?We can go now if you want.”
He shakes his head sharply.“No.”
“Okay.”
When we finally stand in front of Ryan’s mother, I acknowledge Steve, who stands a few steps behind her, with a nod.But when I turn my attention to Pam, Remi beats me to it.
“I’m sorry,” he starts.“I’m sorry for your son.I was there…I mean, I saw him, recognized him.In the car.Maybe if I’d gotten into that car with him he’d?—”
The rest of what he’d intended to say gets swallowed up by a sob that breaks free.Instantly, the woman standing in front of him opens her arms, wrapping them around my boy.
“No,” she says firmly.“You put those thoughts right out of your head.Only one man carries responsibility for what happened to Ryan, and I’m so, so grateful to you for helping the police catch him.You did the right thing.Promise me you’ll keep doing the right thing.”
“I will.I promise,” Remi assures her, lifting his head.
“Good.”
Then she lets him go and turns to me.
“And I have you to thank for finding my Ryan and making sure he could come home to me.”She shoots a little smile over her shoulder at the officer behind her.“Steve told me who you were when you came in.”
Already a mess after my kid broke down, and in absolute awe of this woman’s strength, I’m afraid to open my mouth to say the words I’d been rehearsing in my head.
All I manage is, “I am so deeply sorry,” as I grab her hand, but she pulls me in for a hug as well.
Remi and I don’t talk as we make our way back to my vehicle.I’m trying to wipe some tears from under my eyes and notice Remi rubbing his face on his shoulder.
“Do you want to grab a bite somewhere before we head back?”I ask him when we get in the Jeep.
“I was gonna ask if you could drop me off at the firehouse, I wanna work on the truck.”
I glance over at him, at the tear-stained face over those nice, clean clothes he’s wearing.
“Yes, of course,” I tell him.
Clothes can be washed, but I suspect my boy needs a dose of Clem right now.
Clem
