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Every so often, I’d catch someone from across the room staring at me, whispering to the person he or she was talking to. More often than not, they’d see me looking, turn their backs, and shake their heads. God knew what kind of judgment they were passing on me, and whatever it was, I didn’t give a shit. They hadn’t walked a single step in my shoes and had no idea what drove me to go off to college and never look back.
I excused myself to the restroom, went in, locked the door, and splashed cold water on my face. I unfastened the top button on my dress shirt, loosened my tie, and rested my hands on either side of the sink. I stared at the face in the mirror, the one that looked more and more like my father.
“Just a sec,” I said when I heard a rap on the door. I dried my hands and walked back out to the room where my siblings were still greeting those who’d come to pay their respects. Like me, Porter must’ve needed a break, because he was no longer with them. I was just about to make my way over when I heard hushed voices coming from a side room. Though not loud, the tone was angry.
“Everything okay in here?” I asked, coming around the corner in time to see Porter reach out for Beth’s hand and her yank it away. My brother swept past me without making eye contact.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“We were…uh…seeing each other for a while. It didn’t work out.”
That explained my brother’s reaction this afternoon. “Listen, darlin’, I appreciate you bein’ here tonight, but I think it would be best if you head home now.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded and turned to walk away.
“Beth, wait.” I took two steps toward her. “You said things didn’t work out. That had nothing to do with me coming back here, right?”
When she walked away without answering, a bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
The second hour of visitation was more of the same. I thought for sure the crowds would dwindle down, but the stream of people remained constant. At the start of the third hour, I was ready to padlock the front door.
“Look who just walked in,” said Porter. I turned my head in the direction he’d pointed and saw the Rice family coming toward us.
Bud and Ginny Rice had been good friends of my parents and grandparents. I was stunned by how much they’d aged since the last time I saw them.
“If there’s anything at all we can do,” Ginny said after she and her husband offered their condolences like so many others had before them.
“Same goes for Livvie and me,” said their oldest son, Ben. Even though he had twenty years on me, I’d known him all my life. I’d watched from the sidelines as he and his band achieved moderate success, only for Ben to descend into a hellhole of drugs and alcohol.
Then I’d watched as he fought his way back, tooth and nail, until he achieved the kind of superstardom a man with his talent deserved.
The best part was that, along the way, he fell in love with Olivia Fairchild, world champion barrel racer, but more importantly, Ben’s other half.
“It’s good to see you,” I said, returning his embrace.
“My turn,” said Olivia when her husband stepped aside. Porter nudged me, and I shook my head.
“Let’s just get through this,” I said after they walked away. “There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk to the Flying R after the funeral.”
Thankfully, Porter acquiesced.
By the time we got home, I wanted no part of talking to anyone in my family and retreated straight to the bedroom. I pulled out my phone, hoping against hope there’d be a text from Stella. When there wasn’t one, I scrolled through the old ones. They were from the night before Cope and Ali’s wedding, and she’d been vacillating about going.
Oh, no, you don’t, I’d written. You promised to let me lean on you just like I promised you could lean on me.
You’ll be fine without me, she’d responded.
Rather than answer in another text, I’d picked up the phone. “I won’t,” I said when she answered.
We’d talked late into the night, until we both admitted we couldn’t keep our eyes open.
God, I wanted to hear her voice. I’d gotten used to us either talking or texting just about every night. There was a two-hour time difference between Colorado and DC, but I knew she’d be up. Stella wasn’t a morning person.
She answered before I heard the phone ring. “Buck?”
“Hey, Stella.”
She was quiet, but I could hear her breathing.
