We rolled up to the cemetery under cloudy skies in Fox's pickup truck, followed by a line of cars who pulled in behind us. Peter wouldn't have approved of the club showing, so today we came as mourners, family members of the family in one way or another, if only just due to proximity and living in the same town. And the place was packed.
It took me a moment to spot Sara near the front standing by Andrew and Daniel. Anne sat on a stool beside the casket with her head down. She was a strong woman but she was taking it hard. And though she had always respected Peter's wishes when it came to me or the club, she did brighten when we formed a line to pass by her, offering condolences and hugs one by one.
I settled into the front row next to the young woman who held my son. Kip lay sleeping in her arms, tuckered out from a long morning of being shuttled around probably, and she smiled at me as we waited for Sara to come take her spot. We barely had a moment to chat before the priest began the ceremony.
He spoke in monotone about the meaning of life, and how fragile humanity is, how we must all come together. Then it went down some religious rabbit hole I didn't understand and I looked over at Kip. Sara leaned on my shoulder and it made me relax a bit more. No one here was focused on the two of us. We were here to pay our respects, but I knew that part was coming. We still had to make this thing public, though she'd brought Kip by last night to play at the trailer and I have a lot of work to do to make that place child friendly.
"Thank you for coming," she whispered, so I turned to look at her.
"You're welcome," I said back, quietly so we didn't disrupt anyone else.
"I can't believe the whole club came." She glanced behind us where there was standing room only, a wall of odd looking creatures wearing flannel and plaid, and an assortment of hats and do-rags. Fox gave an order I never thought I'd hear—no colors for today's ceremony. I knew Sara's confession changed that man's life, and though he'd never admit it, he knew it too.
"Fox's orders," I said, though it was a white lie. But he backed me one hundred percent of the way.
"When this is over, we're having a dinner… For family and friends. It'll be at the diner. I convinced Mom not to do it at a church. Amber and the cooks are handling prep right now." She sighed and let her eyes meet mine. "You'll come?"
It twisted in my chest funny, the idea of attending a personal family event with her. Before I moved to Grove Hill I was looking for something but I never knew what. Then Peter and Anne took me in and I realized I had family. That was what made me stay—not the club or the ability to make easy money I didn’t have to trade my whole life working for.
Peter was like a father to me. So when he sent me out because the choice I made to join the Gravehounds put him at odds with protecting his children it hurt me. I felt like the concept of family was nothing more than a lie someone fed the world to make men like me feel like outsiders.
But after meeting my son everything changed for me. I saw it how Peter saw it. I'd have made some similar choices for my kid. And some day I might be forced to choose my family over the club. If that time came, I knew Fox would understand. He'd lost Mandy to some bad stuff, and if he had it to do over, I knew he would.
"Yes," I told her quietly, and Andrew turned to look over at us as she slid her hand into mine and held it. I noticed he didn't have a dirty look on his face other than the sadness in his eyes of having lost a father.
I could never replace Peter, and I wasn't old enough to be a replacement either. But I sure hoped one day they'd look at me like a leader and a friend, maybe a big brother.
"Good. We can talk to Mom together, and there's something we should discuss."
"Yeah?" I asked her, my curiosity piqued. I inwardly prayed she wasn't going to tell me she had plans to run off again.
With the real source of her fear gone for good, she had options. She didn't have to run from a murderous maniac. Working for her brothers as their pit crew leader wasn’t a necessity anymore. She could work for Anne or keep Peter's shop running. Or if she wanted to, I'd support her with my club payouts and she could stay home and raise Kip.
"Don't get in your head," Sara said, poking my ribs.
"I'm not," I told her, shaking my head, but she knew me too well.
I would sit and stew over whatever thing we had to talk about until she spat it out. But I would also wrestle with the image of Andrew Ducette holding his daddy's shotgun on me. Those boys didn't like me one bit, and telling them I loved their sister might ruffle some feathers.
I just had to keep breathing and put one foot in front of the other. The day would pass like any other day, and tomorrow would be new.
33
SARA
The last person to approach me after the funeral was over was Fox. He didn't say a word, but the way he held my hand in both of his, and the warmth with which he held that grasp for a full minute was his gratitude. I wanted to hug him, but he was still scary.
Garret put his arm around me and together we watched Fox return to his truck and climb in. The line of cars pulling out of the cemetery stretched from the entrance most of the way to town as mourners headed toward the diner. The boys had already taken Mom, and Tiffany had Kip with her, which left Garret to ride with me.
"You ready?" he asked, and I could see how nervous he was.
"Are you?"
"No." He laughed and it came out tight. "Your brothers are gonna kill me."
"They know you're Kip's father, Garret." I nodded toward the car and we walked that way, climbing in as I said. "They're not going to make a scene at Dad's celebration of life."
"Andrew didn't look so kind with a shotgun pointed at me." Garret buckled his seatbelt and kept his dark humor rolling, but it was his way of diffusing his own anxiety.
