Staring out the window, listening to the hum of the coffee maker, I took a deep breath before speaking. “Thank you.” Those were the only two words I could muster without breaking down. I grabbed two coffee mugs from the cabinets and filled them both to the very top, knowing that Cady liked his coffee black like I did.
With both cups in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table.
He followed my lead and sat as well. “Thanks for the coffee. You always know how to make a strong cup. Just sign the bottom line and date it for me, please.” After pulling a pen from his shirt pocket, he slid the form and the pen toward me. “Brent was a good man. Danville isn’t the same without him. You gave him a beautiful service, Grace. He wouldn’t have done anything different.”
The taste of metal filled my mouth as I bit my tongue. I was begging my tears to stay hidden behind my bloodshot eyes. The funeral was all a blur to me. Brent’s parents had actually planned it. I’d sat back and nodded while they’d spoken about flowers and music and God knows what else.
I remembered sitting in the front row, oblivious to the crowd that had surrounded me. The casket had sat directly in front of me, closed due to the severity of his injuries. Listening to the pastor speak about life and death had left me feeling hollow inside. How could someone speak about someone they had never met in the way this man had spoken about the love of my life? He’d rambled on about what a righteous man Brent had been. How he had always put himself before others. That man had no idea just how wonderful my husband was. Had been. How wonderful my husband had been. Yet he’d stood there, amidst friends and family of the deceased, pretending to be a part of the legacy Brent had left behind.
When he finished speaking, my body was consumed with a need to run to Brent. To throw the casket open and shake him until he woke. The screaming war that was waging between my heart and my mind pulsed inside me. Begging me to prove once and for all that this was just a horrible, tragic mistake. My husband couldn’t have possibly been lying dead just inches in front of me. No. Someone else was in that casket.
Luckily for me, my mind was smarter than my heart. It ordered me to stay put until it was time to move from the funeral home to the cemetery. I didn’t even make it through the entire burial before breaking down. The Earth was hollow beneath me when I collapsed, my knees hitting the dirt first, the rest of my body to follow. I was empty on the inside, unable to force myself through.
Officer Cady was the first to reach me—or that was what he told me. I couldn’t remember. One minute, I was standing there, watching Brent’s casket get lowered into the ground, while the tiny group of women sang some annoying hymn that should have given me goose bumps but instead filled the void in my heart with depression. The next minute, I was home, lying on a foreign couch.
Cady had also told me that the police department had all chipped in to buy me a new couch after the old one had been taken away along with Brent’s body. That new couch had become my living quarters. Getting up and dealing with life took too much effort.
“I’m sorry, Gracie. I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Cady’s voice broke through my mental haze. Concern had plastered itself across his face. Concern and pity.
“Kind of hard not to when you’re only here about it. I’ve signed the paper. Anything else?” I asked, regretting my tone. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
“No, ma’am. I’ll leave you be. But please, don’t hesitate to give me a call if you need anything. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning. I’m here for you. We all are.” He stood, placing a strong hand on my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. When I opened them, the look on Cady’s face nearly convinced me to ask him to stay. Pain seeping through in his eyes. He wanted to speak, but words hadn’t been easily spoken lately. I realized then that I wasn’t the only one who had lost Brent. Not that I didn’t subconsciously already know that fact. But this was the first time it had really registered in my mind.
Brent had been loved by so many in this tiny town. Everyone had called on him for dang near everything. Mrs. Larchmont, the little old lady down the street, hadn’t hesitated to ask for his help around the house. She’d paid him in cookies and freshly baked bread. I’d missed her bread the last couple of weeks. I’d missed a lot, actually. I’d been so consumed with my own grief that I hadn’t even been there for Brent’s family.
His parents, who had always been a big part of our lives, had given up trying to see me. They’d stopped by several times before and after the funeral. I’d see their car parked out front and force myself to stay put. I hadn’t been able to bear the thought of seeing them. Of letting their presence bring the guilt that tore me apart back to the surface.