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Claire bit down on her lip and echoed her sister’s concern. “I hope P.J. knows what he’s doing letting all these clubs in.”
Claire had been reticent all along about her son joining the Hell Saints MC, and here he was in his mid-twenties and the club’s president. Claire sighed. Well, that’s what she got for naming her son after Prosper. Between his father and grandfather’s genes, Prosper Junior had so much pure testosterone running through his veins that he never stood a chance of becoming anything but a Saint. From the time he was a little boy, all P.J. wanted to do was tag along with his daddy, his grandpa, and his uncles. Right after his high school graduation, he’d prospected for the club and a year later he was patched in. Diego had taken over the role of presidency after Derringer Gage was killed in a motorcycle accident. Once Diego decided to retire his patch, P.J. was the logical and best choice. Sadly, just months after P.J. had been voted in as president, his grandfather had suffered a third and final heart attack and passed away. When word spread that the formidable octogenarian was gone, clubs from all over the world had sent their condolences.
P.J., who had his own vision for the club, decided to take this opportunity to both honor his grandfather and bring the clubs together on a worldwide scale. He extended an invitation to engage these MCs towards a temporary truce. Each club was invited to send an unarmed, five-man contingency to the funeral of Prosper Worthington. Their safety at the two-day ceremony was guaranteed by the HSMC. The response was more than any of them could have imagined. Along with all of the Saints’ own chapters in full attendance, the count of bikers camping out on the compound’s lawns numbered over a thousand, and they were still coming.
“I wish that Pinky and Prosper could see this,” Claire said. “It’s such an incredible turn out. The girls did a great job making sure everything was set up and waiting, too. Are Crow and Melissa here yet?”
“Yeah, but they decided to wait at the lake house for Willow and Jet. Willow’s morning sickness is pretty bad so they held off until this afternoon to head out,” Raine answered. Then she looked at her watch. “They should be arriving anytime now. I’m gonna head on back home. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
The next morning at the funeral home, the closest friends and the family of Prosper Worthington gathered together for a private farewell before the public memorial service. Raine stood just outside the viewing room and watched as the people she loved most in the world bid hello to each other and goodbye to the man whose strength, love, and guiding wisdom had helped to shape their lives.
Dolly, at eighty years old, still looked as glamorous as ever with her auburn curls dressed high upon her head and her legs still sleek in hose and French heels. Gianni stood by her side, dressed in crisp bespoke. Although he still had that elegant demeanor about him, his once straight spine was now slightly stooped and bent, and he walked with a polished ebony cane. Dolly held her son, Reno, in a firm embrace before moving on to her daughter-in-law and grandson.
Diego was in the corner of the room chatting it up with his sons-in-law and that made Raine smile. All six of the girls were married with children of their own. Willow was the only one of her daughters to marry a club member. She had grown up sporting a serious crush on the oldest son of Crow and Melissa, and at ten years old she announced to the unending embarrassment of Jet that that they would be married someday. Ten years later, Willow made good on that declaration and became Jet Mathison’s wife. She was now pregnant with their second child and had Jet waiting on her hand and foot. Caring for Willow was a job that Jet had taken on willingly and without complaint. Raine could not have asked for a better husband for her oldest and most spoiled daughter. She had taken the death of her beloved grandfather hardest of all the girls, and Raine was happy that Willow had Jet to lean on.
Raine turned her head to see that Jules and Glory had just walked with their son, James. James was the spitting image of his father. Big, strong, and imposing. He had followed his father’s footsteps and became a Marine. Recently Raine and Diego had accompanied Jules and Glory to Washington where James had been the recipient of a bronze star. Glory caught Raine’s eye and smiled a little as the trio headed right for Prosper’s casket.
Hal, Valentina, Gia, and Riker had all arrived together. After paying their respects to Prosper, they made their way to Gianni and Dolly.
“Mom?” Raine turned to find her youngest daughter, Harmony, standing in front of her.
“We’re ready to say good bye to grandpa now. Auntie Claire would like to know if you want to start the line.”
“No, honey. I think I’m gonna wait until everyone is done. Tell your dad, I’d like a moment with Grandpa alone once everyone has gone through and to wait for me in the car.”
“You sure, mom?” Harmony asked gently.
“I’m sure, sweetheart.”
Raine watched the line go through as each person stopped and said their own special final goodbyes to the man who had meant so much to them all. Not too long ago they had had to do the same to Pinky. Pinky’s death had been hard for Prosper to bear. Raine wondered if losing his wife had put such a strain on Prosper’s heart that it had just simply stopped beating.
The last of the small group of mourners had said their goodbyes and the funeral room was now empty. Raine was alone with Prosper. Just the two of them. Raine walked to the casket and laid a gentle hand over the heart that had once beat so strong and fearlessly. Memories of long ago filled her soul and blurred her vision.
“The thing I learned most about courage is that it’s something brave people call upon when they are so scared to do a thing that they can barely breathe, but they do it anyway because it’s just the right thing to do,” Prosper had told her.
“Does anyone ever get tired of being brave, Prosper?” Raine had put her tiny hand in his.
“Sure they do, little darlin’. People get tired of being brave all the time.”
“What happens then, Prosper?”
Prosper had thought for a minute and his voice caught in his throat when he answered, “Why, they call on someone who has some brave left over. That’s what they do, honey.”
“Prosper?”
“Yes, Raine?”
“Do you have any brave left over?”
“Little darlin’, just so happens that I’ve been saving up a bunch of brave just for you,” he’d answered and filled Raine’s tiny heart with relief and hope.
“So, Prosper?” Raine had asked carefully, “You got this?”
“Yeah, darlin’. I got this.”
Tears had begun to flow freely down Raine’s cheeks, and it was getting hard to breathe. Raine could simply not imagine a world that she lived in and Prosper Worthington did not.
“I don’t know where you are, Prosper,” she whispered brokenly to him. “I don’t know what I believe happens when you die, but I do know that if there is a heaven, and the worth of a man is measured by how much he loved and was loved, those gates will be opened wide for you.”
