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Whether she realizes it or not, she is standing right in front of her father’s former unit. His entire regiment is standing together, in a sign of respect, and she stands exactly where her father would have stood had it been anyone else’s funeral today.
She is merely inches away, and even though her head only reaches my shoulders, I can smell her. I breathe in the aroma of rose, so delicate that I am not sure my body can take it.
As Danny gets lowered into the ground, I notice another tear fall down her cheek. She has been so brave today, standing firm, being the daughter that I know Danny would want her to be. But she will crumble soon, of that there is no doubt. I watch as the soldiers move away from the grave, the casket now at the bottom. My heart clenches as I mentally say goodbye to the man who had the biggest impact on my life.
I can’t remember the last time I cried. I have lost so many people in my life and seen so many horrible things that I don’t actually think my tear ducts have any water in them to spill out anymore. Like many soldiers of war, I battle my demons. I have nightmares and flashes of memories that I really would rather not see again.
It took me a long time to recover from deployment, but I made sure that I got my head right. I talked to all the veterans I knew, I spent time with friends and family, and I built up my security skills and business to now only work with the best. But I also took my ass off to therapy. I talked through my demons, my nightmares, and cried when I needed to.
Now, although I have no more tears, my heart has added another break to it. One that will never be repaired; one that I will feel for an eternity.
The ceremony comes to a close, and people start to move around, talking and greeting each other. People merge around Isabelle, so I reluctantly drop my hand from her back, and she takes a few steps forward to greet the minister, no doubt doing her duty to thank him for the service. Her mother is on the other side of the crowd, her male friend right next to her, and they are both talking to a younger guy, who looks too polished and too perfect to be anything other than a total douche.
The men from my former military unit gather around together. There are handshakes and back slaps, and a few tissues are being passed around. Their wives and partners all stand close together chatting quietly.
“Good to see you, Jake,” Tony says, giving me a nod, our mood somber. “How is that private security gig you got going on in Boston? Keeping you busy?”
I smirk at him as I think back to last week and the situation I found myself in over in Italy and my new connections to the Italian mob.
“Never a dull moment, that is for sure.” I rub my face, feeling fatigued and itching to get to the cabin.
Tony and most of the guys in my former squad all have houses or cabins close to mine in Hancock, and as is common in the Berets, we are all still close, sharing a bond that can never be broken. A bond over what we have seen, what we have heard, and what we have lost. Today another reminder of that fact.
As a unit, we are solid, and we haven’t moved from our spot here at Arlington. I don't often get to D.C. Being so busy with work in Boston and spending all my free time in Hancock at my cabin, I rarely detour anywhere else. I prefer to keep things simple, my circle of friends small, and my life private. As private as it can be in my line of work.
We are a tight knit group, always here for each other, and days like today hurt all of us. We stand together, continuing to talk about Danny. About the service, about life, and about loss.
The crowd begins to thin out, and people around us start to leave, to join the family at their place for a small afternoon tea. As they pile into cars that are waiting nearby, our unit begins to move together, slowly walking in that direction. I am not going to the house. I have been working non-stop for months, and I’m planning to go straight to my cabin to get some much-needed rest. It’s a little over a six-hour drive from here, and given that it is already 2pm, I should arrive just after 8pm, assuming the traffic will be kind.
As I walk in the direction of the cars, I look around for Isabelle. I notice her standing next to her mother and the younger polished man I saw earlier. She is clutching the flag to her chest, like a shield, her body language screaming of wanting to get away from them, and I pause, struggling with wanting to go to her and not wanting to step over the line of familiarity.
Tony has stopped next to me, looking in the same direction. “She will be okay, Jake,” he says to me, slapping me on the shoulder. “I spent some time with her yesterday, she is a tough one, that Issy.” Tony is in his late forties and happily married, but my body received a sharp pang of jealousy when he mentioned spending time with her. I take a deep breath in and look at him.
“See you up in Hancock,” I say, resigned to the fact that he is right. I need to leave her alone.
“See you in Hancock.” Tony nods, and I walk to my truck to start the long drive to my cabin.
3
Isabelle
It has been a few days since the funeral, and our house has turned into a florist. Flowers adorn every bench, every table. Every surface is covered in them. Mainly white, but a few blooms of pink poke out here and there. The smell is amazing; roses, lilies, and peonies as far as the eye can see. There has been such an outpouring of support from dad’s friends and contacts, as well as mom’s, but many of these flowers came addressed to me. Such is the life I have built in D.C.
As one of Washington D.C.’s most influential and successful female business owners, I have worked my butt off these past few years to become the go-to event manager for the who's who of D.C. I know everyone worth knowing, in fact, I have them on speed dial. After studying business at Brown University, my mother pushed me to do an internship at one of the most prestigious event companies in D.C., and everything just fell into place. I have a knack for business and a creative flair to match, so although it is a lot of hard work and long hours, succeeding in this space has been a natural progression for me.
While it was never dad's scene, I know he was proud of me. My mother, on the other hand, used it to her full advantage. Leaning on me for connections, pushing me hard to get into the inner circle. After completing the internship, I had enough experience, confidence, and contacts to start my own events business. In the past few years, I have purchased a building on Dupoint Avenue and set up my office with a team of ten people working with me. We manage most of the events around town.
I am grateful for the opportunities it has given me, none more important than the flexibility over the past few months to be with dad when he got sick. I worked from his bedside, when looking after him became my priority. I have a fantastic Operations Manager, Kelly, who is also one of my best friends. She stepped up and took a lead role in the business while I was having downtime and has done an excellent job. Living back with my parents hasn’t been ideal, but as soon as dad got sick, I broke the lease on my apartment and moved back in, not wanting to miss a single minute of being with him, knowing that he didn’t have a lot of time left.
“There you are,” my mother says as she breezes into the kitchen in a full face of makeup and a designer outfit, even though it is only 8am. I flick my eyes to her over my laptop from where I sit at the kitchen bench as I take another sip of my morning coffee. Dressed in a t-shirt and my sleep shorts, with my hair a bird's nest of activity, we are total opposites.
“Good morning,” I say, trying to be pleasant but feeling anything but.
Mom sighs as she grabs her coffee, acting like the man I adored more than anything in this world didn't just die.
Our conversation ceases before it starts with the doorbell sounding. I roll my eyes; it is way too early for visitors.
“Oh, I will get it,” she sings out happily as she makes her way back out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door. I hear talking but pay no attention as I put my head back into my laptop, trying to find the enthusiasm for work that I once had.
