Page 57 of Glimmer in the Darkness

“Bullion. You know. Gold, silver, platinum, palladium?”

“Palladium?”

“It’s a metal valued… well, usually around the same as gold, sometimes higher, sometimes lower. Sort of looks like silver. Used in jewelry and dentistry and catalytic converters.”

She chuckled. “That’s a strange list of uses.”

“Yeah. Something about it cleanses exhaust or something. I don’t know. I’m more interested in the value of the coins.”

“You own a lot of palladium?”

“Nah. Traded it some, but it’s not exactly plentiful. I’m more interested in the rare coins, but I’ve collected some silver and gold over the years. It’s sort of my version of a retirement account, I guess.”

“Ha. Retirement. I’m just lucky to scrape up enough money to pay my rent. I’ll have to work till I die. Maybe I’ll get lucky and die young.”

He shot her a look. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I know where I’m going after this life. I have no reason to want to put it off.”

Her words raised his frustration again. “You have no idea what it’s like to bury someone you love. If you had any care for the people who love you—”

“Quite the assumptions you’re making there.”

He let her words roll around in his brain, but they never ordered themselves in a way that made sense. “What assumptions am I making?”

“That I’ve never buried anyone I love. And that there are people who’d grieve me.”

“Of course there are. The kids you serve, if nobody else.”

“The few who would shed a tear wouldn’t fill a church pew.”

“People you work with?”

“Acquaintances. Friends, sure. But not… not family. Nobody whose life would be different if I weren’t in it.”

What a sad thing to say. To believe about your own life.

“It’s just one more thing people with families don’t understand. I’m not saying I don’t have people who love me. And I’m not saying my life doesn’t matter. It does. I make a difference in girls’ lives. I’m just saying, when you don’t have family, who’s there to care? Who will the hospital call when I die? My best friend, I guess. But since she married and had a kid…” Her words trailed, but he could imagine. He’d been happy for Reid when he and Denise married and Ella was born. But he’d missed the friendship they’d had before. Even after Denise left, Reid had been too busy playing both father and mother to spend much time with James.

Selfish though it was, he grieved the loss. “I understand better than you think.”

Silence greeted that statement. He didn’t explain. Didn’t have to. His family was gone. Sure, he had aunts and uncles and cousins, but they had their own lives. They’d be sad if he died, but they’d recover by dinnertime. Reid would care. Vince would care. Aside from that…

“I’m not trying to be morbid,” she said. “I just believe that what’s to come is better than what’s here. Life is hard, but God is good, and I’m not afraid to face Him. I’m looking forward to heaven, where there’ll be no more tears or pain or suffering.”

He’d often thought of the world to come. When they’d buried his sister, some of his grief had been tempered by the idea that she was in a better place. When his father died, then his mom, he’d considered the peace they had. The reunion in heaven. He was the only one left here on earth, left to deal with their deaths—and the rest of this hard world—all by himself.

After they’d walked a few minutes, only the forest sounds and their grumbling stomachs to keep them company, she said, “Do you mind…?”

When her words trailed, he glanced in her direction. “You need to rest?”

“No.”

He continued forward.

“I don’t want to make you angry, but I’d really like to know what happened back then. From your perspective.”

Memories he preferred not to conjure. “Why?”