I will. Eventually. “Not tonight.”
TWENTY-THREE
CALDER
We’re all at the funeral home, having taken separate vehicles. Extracting myself from Meredith’s bed in the wee hours after she fell asleep was too damn hard, and a sign I did the right thing by returning to the couch. Since then, we’ve been like ships all morning, passing each other but too far away to communicate. Doesn’t help that she’s avoiding my gaze and I can’t get a second alone with her.
When I got up from my sleepless night, I made breakfast burritos. Enough for everyone. Carlos acted like I split the atom. He ate every bite before telling me he’d already had breakfast. I had to smack Bowen away from the last three so there’d be enough for Meredith.
By the time I returned from chores, Meredith was gone, along with the burritos. Bowen and I somberly got cleaned up and dressed in our respective suits.
I tug on the sleeve of my suit coat. On my shirt, I’m wearing the horseshoe cuff links Mama gave me for my eighteenth birthday. I saved them for special occasions, which meant I hadn’t worn them until now. Today isn’t special, but it is significant. Seems fitting, having a little bit of Mama with me during a shit day like this. But damn, I miss my jeans and boots.
The family room in the funeral home hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here. James built the place to seat more than Scandal’s small churches could. The town has four churches but only one place like this, and he said once it never felt right to have people standing outside or going downstairs during the services. The furniture has been upgraded to a sleek, modern style that can’t be stained by tears. A few throw pillows in the grays Holly Winslow seemed to favor are strewn across it.
I’m standing by the door. Meredith’s on the couch with Sawyer, and they’re murmuring to each other. Her hair is unbound. The dark cloud drapes around her shoulders and frames her face, giving her a shy air. She could tip her head and hide behind that satiny curtain. Like Sawyer, she’s paired her dress with freshly polished cowboy boots—the ones I saw in her room.
I finally catch her eye and gave her a “how you doing?” look. Her smile is wan and tears right through my heart. Yeah. Stupid question. I had twenty years between the funerals of my parents. She’ll have a half hour between her loved ones.
Bowen discusses the schedule for today with James on the other side of the door.
“I don’t know,” Bowen’s saying, giving his suit coat sleeves a pull. For a second, I catch a glimpse of his horseshoe cuff links. We each got a set. “We might as well start on time.”
They must be talking about Landry. Where the hell my youngest brother is, none of us knows. I’ve written him off by now.
The women stand. They were listening too, and apparently, they agree.
“I’ll plan to start on time.” James looks at each of us like he’s waiting for any rebuttals. There are none. “Okay. I’m going to head on out and make sure everything’s in place. You have a few more minutes if you need it.”
Bowen’s phone buzzes, and he veers out of the room to answer it. He doesn’t look back. It must be his work, not our youngest brother.
Meredith and Sawyer exchange glances and start for the door. I catch Meredith’s hand, and she stays behind. Her hazel gaze searches mine, the crests of her cheeks dusted with pink. If she’s embarrassed or ashamed of what we did, she doesn’t look away. Does that mean she’s okay with it? Or, like me, just can’t think about it? There’s too much to do.
So why did I stop her?
“Did you get breakfast?”
She nods. “Thank you.”
“Good.” What else is there to say?This sucks. Thanks for last night, but I still couldn’t get to sleep.
Sawyer pops her head in. “It’s almost time.” She frowns when she sees how close I’m standing to her friend.
“On time is late.” Bowen appears at her side, and she turns her scowl to him. He acts like he doesn’t notice, but he gauges the distance between me and Meredith. He put an extra step between me and her. Today’s for the funeral, not drama. He shakes his head and steps back to let the girls go first.
They walk shoulder to shoulder in front of me and Bowen. My fingers twitch to catch Meredith’s hand again, but Sawyer’s claimed one, and Meredith grips her fingers in return. Probably for the best. We don’t want to add to today’s chatter.
We enter the room where the service will be held. People fill the four short columns of bench seats. The first two rows are reserved for family. Carlos is already in one pew, with his wife, Esme, beside him, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Bea is across the aisle in the other row, and Molly and Brenner are beside her. She waves the girls to empty spaces closest to the aisle.
A pit opens in my gut. Meredith and I will be in different pews, but at least she’ll be with those closest to her.
Bowen nods at various people in the crowd. Most everyone has already been by the brewery. The past couple of nights have been a damn spectacle but lucrative. At least that’ll help mitigate being closed for a night.
I table any Jules Creek and Crossroads Ranch thoughts and keep my gaze off the front and the ornate wooden coffin surrounded by flowers I didn’t order. As requested, Holly’s casket is somewhere else, waiting her turn.
My stomach churns and roils. This isn’t what Dad wanted. I thought it was what my brothers and I needed. Now I’m not sure if I needed it at all. I just had to be home. Bowen and Landry are different. They took the estrangement the hardest because they had me to worry about their survival and well-being. They wouldn’t have answered Dad’s initial attempts to call if I hadn’t told them to just see where it would go. We were all older and more stable. We controlled our homes and our businesses. So I answered. Because after all that happened, it was nice to know someone out there worried about me.
Bowen and I take our seats next to Carlos. Esme reaches over her husband to squeeze Bowen’s hand, then mine. I’ve missed her too. I should’ve stopped in to see her before now.
