Page 62 of Redeeming Violet

“That was so…” Violet looked around and through her tears she finished. “Beautiful.”

I took in all the motorcycles and had to agree, it was beautiful. It looked like every Patriot Guard in Maryland had attended. Through the sea of bikes and men and American Flags, I saw pride. Eric would love that.

“Come on, let me take you to your seat.” I tagged her around the waist and carefully guided her through the grass to the row of seats that were reserved for family. That was what we were to him – his family. Eric’s mom left when he was kid and he’d cut off all communication with his father when he left for the Navy. The man was an abusive asshole and at eighteen Eric had taken his last beating. Leaving his father and older brother behind – he never looked back. He’d moved on to bigger and better things.

“They didn’t cover the dirt with the green blanket. Aren’t they supposed to? I mean to make it look pretty,” she whispered.

“There ain’t nothing pretty about death, baby. And Eric didn’t want it covered,” I told her.

“I love you, Jax,” she sighed before she took her seat.

“Love you.” I kissed her forehead and waited for Linc and Leo to seat their women before we walked back to the hearse. Each of us paused for a moment when the three women clasped hands and huddled together. I was more than grateful Jasmin and Olivia had accepted Violet into the fold.

“Jassy’s getting soft,” Leo muttered.

“I think I’m seeing things,” I laughed.

“She’d kick your ass if she heard you say that shit,” Linc shook his head.

I was happy Jasmin had them too. I know she thought of herself as one of the guys. And we all loved her like an annoying kid sister. But she needed women in her life. I was damn glad it was two women as good as Violet and Olivia.

When we returned to the hearse, Wolf and his team hadn’t moved. The shiny black car parked in front of them, their backs ramrod straight, their arms at their sides, hands in fists, eyes forward, standing guard, watching over a fellow SEAL before he was laid to rest. It didn’t matter that Eric had never served with them. It didn’t matter he’d left the teams years before. Eric would always be a SEAL, their brother.

The back of the hearse was opened, and the six of took our places on either side of the flag-covered coffin. With a heavy heart, I lifted and the roller was pulled out from under the coffin.

This was it.

The six of us now held the weight of our teammate. It’s an honor to carry a man to his final resting place. This was the last act I would ever carry out for Eric, committing his body to the ground.

With each step I felt the weight, and a heaviness on the day, wash over me. I’d allow myself these steps to wallow in the sadness and the unfairness of his death. I’d allow hatred to enter my heart and remember Eric’s last words to me, Redemption. It’s upon us. I’d always wonder if he meant retribution and not redemption. We were getting ready to go smoke Ortega and his men, retribution would’ve made more sense. But as the six of us placed the casket on the straps above the hole, I caught sight of Violet. Had she found the redemption she needed? Had Eric told me moments before his death that she had?

We stepped back, and Wolf, Abe, Cookie, Dude, and Benny stepped forward, saluting with a crisp snap of their hand. Benny continued to salute as the other four pulled the flag off the casket, holding it taut at each corner, hovering just above.

“Ready. Aim. Fire,” Benny called.

Seven men with the Navy Guard lifted their rifles and fired. My body jerked at the crack from the bullet. The snap of bolt being opened and the clinking of the expelled cartridge hitting the metal before the bolt was slammed shut, readying another bullet in the chamber.

“Ready. Aim. Fire.”

The sound hit my ears and the meaning hit my soul. The final salute was used on the bloodiest of battlefields to clear the dead.

“Ready. Aim. Fire.”

The three-gun volley sounded to indicate you’d cleared your fallen and you were ready to fight again.

Our dead had been cleared, our fallen brought home. We were indeed ready to fight again.

Taps played as Wolf and the guys went about folding the flag, each fold made with the utmost respect and military precision. When the flag was finished, it was handed to Benny to inspect. If he found a single flaw, the flag would have to be unfolded and the whole process would start over.

Benny held the flag in front of him offering it back to Wolf, one gloved hand below and one resting on top. Wolf offered a salute before he took the flag back and tucked it under his arm as he walked to our group. Standing in front of Zane, the two men’s eyes locked, a mutual understanding and respect passed between them, a respect that is only earned with the intimate knowledge of battle and loss.

“On behalf of the President of the United States,” Wolf started, “the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for Chief Wheeler’s honorable and faithful service.” Zane reached out to take the flag, but Wolf hadn’t let go when he spoke again. “Brotherhood.”

Wolf stepped back and called, “Chief Wheeler.”

“Hooyah, Chief Wheeler,” Zane, Leo, Linc, Benny, Cookie, Dude, and Abe all returned.

Godspeed friend.