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The mahogany casket, clear coated and polished to a high shine, sat at the end of the aisle, on top of a metal gurney. White plaster pedestals molded in a Greco roman style were situated on either side and topped with two large arrangements of creamy roses, lilies and springs of wolfsbane. A small pulpit stood to the left in invitation for attendees to step up and share their experiences and fond memories.
Talia helped me prepare a speech the night before. The index cards tucked inside my suit jacket felt like lead weights in my pocket. There were so many things I’d wanted to say and would never have the chance. Talia stayed up with me, listening to stories about my dad and the lessons he taught me. She collected my thoughts and put pen to paper.
And no one would ever hear them.
At least no one in this room. Unlike the service, those memories were mine. A piece of my father that belonged to no one else but me and I would cling to that for as long as possible.
I stepped up to the small podium, but instead of bearing my soul and sharing my grief, I thanked everyone for coming and invited them to join us at the pack cemetery as we buried my father.
When the wake ended, the pallbearers, which included David, Marcus, Theo and myself carried him from the viewing room to the hearse that parked out front, waiting to take my father to his final resting place.
To my relief the majority of the people who’d attended the viewing had chosen not to attend the graveside service. Their reasons didn’t matter. I’d honored my father’s wishes and extended an invitation, welcoming anyone who came.
As much as I appreciated their kind words and support, I didn’t want them there.
Freshly turned earth was mounded beside the rectangular hole cut out of the ground. The pack’s private cemetery on our property was in a clearing near the western boundary - a dividing line between our land and the adjacent acres that belonged to our rival, the Long Claw pack.
“Son of a bitch.” Talia growled, her hands curled into fists at her side. “Was this what you were talking about this morning? Did you get word that they were planning something?”
I followed her steely gaze to a deer trail that cut between a cluster of cedars along the property line.
The Northwood alpha stepped out of the tree line with his son Maddox in tow. The audacity it took to show their faces at my father’s funeral raised my hackles and set me on edge. After everything they’d done to destroy our pack, they had a hell of a lot of nerve.
And yet, I shouldn’t have expected anything less.
Maddox assaulted Talia and violated the summit treaty. He was more than capable of orchestrating an attack during the services when he no doubt perceived us to be at our most vulnerable.
It was a calculated risk. One that would have turned into a costly mistake.
As a pack we suffered the loss of our alpha. Our hearts were broken, but our spirits were not. Were we vulnerable? Yes. Did that make us weak? Hell no.
And if Maddox and his father made a move on the Long Claws, he would find out just how strong we really were.
Nothing unified us quite like a fight.
We would defend my father’s honor to the death, but to my surprise the leaders of the Northwood pack never made a move. Maddox and his father stayed on their side of the property line, heads bowed in respect for several moments, before they slipped back into the woods and disappeared.
They hadn’t come bearing an olive branch of peace and I knew that the cease fire wouldn’t last more than one night, but I appreciated it nonetheless. My father was a great man, an even greater wolf and he commanded respect.
Even from his enemies.
I had big shoes to fill and I hoped I lived up to the challenge.
Talia and my betas stayed with me long after the service ended and the rest of the pack members had gone home. I stood at my father’s graveside, staring down at the top of the coffin that filled the open grave. The white roses tossed in after the service were a stark contrast to the dark lid of the metal box.
“Galen, it’s time.” Marcus clasped a hand on my shoulder and jerked his head in the direction of the truck hauling a Bobcat that approached the cemetery. “Why don’t I give you and Talia a lift back to your place?”
“That would be great, Marcus. Thank you.” Talia slipped her hand in mine and pulled me away from the graveside. “This shouldn’t be your last memory of him.”
I knew that she was right.
The sight of heavy equipment backfilling dirt on top of the coffin, filling in the grave until my father lay six feet under wasn’t a memory that I wanted, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I dug my heels in and waited until the ground was graded and the Bobcat made its last pass.
Talia pulled a waded tissue from her purse, dried her red, swollen eyes and dabbed at her nose. Faint streaks of mascara stained her cheeks. She had cried enough tears for both of us while we watched the undertakers finish their work.
I regretted letting her stay but I couldn’t afford to let her go. I needed her support more than ever.
The funeral services had to have been painful for her. Not just because she cared for my father, but because she had been denied the opportunity to do the same for her father.
