Page 28 of Taken Away

Nothing ever happened after dessert.

No spark. No shift in gravity. No sense that the floor might quietly vanish beneath his boots.

He’d assumed that part of him had died in a hospital room in California, alongside his wife.

He’d been fine with that. He’d accepted the quiet.

Until Aubrey.

Bennett let out a slow breath, his forehead dropping against the cool window glass. He could still feel the ghost of her hands against his chest, the fierce lift of her chin right before he’d leaned in.

She was a headache wrapped in a tailored suit, a Philadelphia interloper who didn’t belong in his valley, let alone in Mabel’s house.

He didn’t want to think about her. He didn’t want to think about the manila envelope waiting on his coffee table—the one she had handed him, the one he’d taken to put some distance between them.

The valley was quieter now that Mabel was gone, but the air was humming with something new.

Somewhere down in that valley, a dog that wasn’t his lay guarding a stranger in a house that no longer belonged to either of them.

Bennett closed his eyes briefly.

Then he straightened, reached for his suit jacket, and prepared to bury another person he loved.

SIX

First Baptist Church

Mabel’s Funeral

By the time Aubrey turned onto Main Street, traffic was backed halfway down the block.

At the overflow lot behind First Baptist, a deputy waved cars onto the damp grass while another guided people across the street. The entire county had turned out.

She slowed the rental car, staring through the windshield. Hand-lettered signs were taped to nearly every storefront:

CLOSED FOR MABEL BLACKWOOD’S FUNERAL

Even the local bookstore had locked its doors.

“Oh,” Aubrey whispered.

A church deacon in a navy suit moved forward the moment she climbed from the car into the damp mountain air.

“Miss Langford?” he asked gently.

Aubrey nodded.

“I’m Jim Patterson, honey. We’ve been expecting you.”

The kindness in his voice nearly undid her.

Inside, the sanctuary glowed with warm amber light and lilies. Quiet piano music drifted through the rafters. At the front stood the mahogany casket, surrounded by towering sprays of white roses and wreaths from Blackwood Estate Winery, the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office, the City Limits Café, and Harper & Associates.

Beside the casket sat a framed photograph of Mabel. Young. Laughing. Wind in her blonde hair as she stood in a vineyard, holding a wineglass toward the camera like she was sharing a beautiful secret.

Grief rose so fast it stole the air from Aubrey’s lungs.

Jim touched her elbow. “Right this way.”