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Lumbering in, Big Mike was a huge man, dwarfing the room, and at the side of the bed he gently took Devon’s hand and began to weep.
“Thank you, son. Charlie said it was okay to visit you.You’ll be my son now, right? You saved my son’s body so I could see him one last time. In my culture, the body is important.”
He explained about the Italian funeral traditions, which included an open casket and touching the body, even kissing the cheek of the deceased. “It’s what we do. If you’d left his body behind, it would have burned. I’m not sure Roberta would recover from that. Thank you, Devon. Thank you.”
But Mike’s body had suffered serious wounds. It would be a closed-casket funeral.
“You were already my dad after Ray and Marie died,” Devon said. “So I’ve been your son all along.”
Tears rolled down Big Mike’s cheeks. Devon squeezed his giant hand, remembering those arms lifting both boys over his head when they were kids. Big Mikewasa second father to him. How would Mike’s death change that relationship? Surely, some animosity was forthcoming.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get out sooner,” was all Devon could think to say. “The fire switched directions suddenly, so there wasn’t time, and it was moving so fast. They say the wind was blowing fifty miles per hour, so we’d never be able to outrun that.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “The lookout should have warned you.”
Rick had warned them that the fire direction switched, but there still wasn’t enough time, so Devon just let him rant instead of explaining the steps up to the catastrophe. The lookout would be the scapegoat.
The Funeral
The stately California Mission–style church seemed an appropriate place for a slain firefighter to take his final bow. In a state of disbelief for a greater part of that day, Devon stayed in a daze, acknowledging those around him who recognized his part in Mike’s demise, but barely able to make eye contact otherwise. Cringing, he had to bite his tongue to keep from reacting when Big Mike told the congregation that Devon had carried Mike out of the inferno on his back. He was obviously burned, with wounds on his face, and his hands still dressed in gauze, so fortunately people kept their distance and didn’t try to hug him or pat him on the back.
Mike’s turnout gear was arranged on a chair at the front of the church, poised so a man could jump into the pants and boots in an emergency.Saintwas printed across the front and the back.
They had a traditional firefighter’s service, ringing the fire bell three times. After the bell tolled, the procession of fire trucks from around the country made their way down the 15, every overpass decorated with flags and attended by uniformed officers, to the graveyard.
It was after the casket was lowered into the vault, the end to Mike’s final destination, that Aisling made her way to Devon.
“What are you going to do now?” she said, looking up at him. “What’s next for Devon Lyon?”
Pain was evident on her face, difficult for Devon to see, and he couldn’t open his mouth to speak to her. His own pain was overwhelming, the wish to die an hourly occurrence. He resolved then that for her sake he would try to overcome the negativity. For Aisling’s sake, he’d go forward.
“I’m supposed to go back to the hospital, but I miss my dog. I think I’ll go home.”
“Can I come up?” she said. “If you agree, I’ll go back to the condo and get Ralph. I need to hide for a few days. I’m not going back to work until next Monday.”
“Yes, of course you can come. Your bedroom is just as you left it the last time you stayed. I haven’t been home since it happened, so Mike’s things are still there.”
“What are you going to do with his stuff?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m leaving everything as it is for now. I’m going to pretend he’s still alive.”
Aisling thought about what he’d just said. “Okay, that works for me. Let’s pretend he went to his pre-deployment meeting at Camp Pendleton and they sent him someplace nice. Iceland. Let’s pretend Mike’s in Iceland.”
“He was so worried about that meeting. He didn’t want to leave you.”
“What a joke! He’d still be alive if he were overseas,” Aisling said. “Oh well. Do you have a ride?”
“I’ll get one. My car is at the station. See you in an hour.” He nodded his head, watching her walk to the limousine.
“Do you need a ride?” It was Rick.
“I’ll go back to the station with you if you’re driving.”
“Charlie said you were supposed to go back to the hospital.”
“No. I’m done with that place. I want to go home and see my dog.”
As Rick drove him to the station, fresh pain cruised through Devon’s body. In his Jeep, he called Lila.
