Save Me, page 15
Lainie swung her legs off the sofa and then scooted up beside him. “But no funeral service. Just us and a preacher at the gravesite, okay?”
He hesitated. “With one request.”
“Name it,” she said.
“That I’m his pallbearer.”
She nodded. “It is your right.”
* * *
THAT NIGHT, Lainie was already in bed when Hunt came out of the bathroom. She could smell the scents of his shampoo and body wash as he crossed the room and slid into bed beside her. Her silence was telling, and he knew what it was about.
“I love you, lady, and there is no right or wrong decision here. It’s a choice, and if you haven’t changed your mind, then we’ll start the process tomorrow, okay?”
Her voice was shaking. “And some day, maybe we’ll make another baby?”
He kissed the back of her neck. “Well, we certainly know what makes babies, and we do love the practice of it, and I’m damn good at it, so I can’t imagine why we’d choose not to.”
She chuckled under her breath. “We’re going to have to do something about that inferiority complex.”
“Hush yourself, girl. You taught me everything I know.”
She laughed, then rolled over into his arms. “Well, maybe not everything,” she said, and proceeded to prove it.
* * *
THE RAIN HUNT predicted came after midnight, and by morning, Denver was sopping wet. Water was still running in the streets when they headed out to Fairmont Funeral Home.
A couple of hours later, after explaining what they wanted, they purchased plots, chose a casket, ordered a headstone, and set a date and time for the service.
Michael Taylor, the funeral director, had recognized them the moment they walked in, and was quite taken by their request.
“I just want the both of you to know I will do my best to make this service special for you. My deepest sympathies for the tragedy of this loss. I long ago learned there is no expiration date for grief.”
“Thank you,” Hunt said, and shook his hand. “Until this coming Friday, then?”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor said.
* * *
THE NEXT FEW days for Lainie were like waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wouldn’t even look in the direction of the rocking chair, then one afternoon while Hunt was helping her fold clothes, she caught herself whispering about the service, and was so horrified at herself that she threw her hands up in despair.
“What’s wrong with me? Why did I just do that? Like I’m afraid the bear will hear me? Maybe that fall on my head knocked the good sense right out of me!”
He dropped the towel he was folding. “Come here to me, Lainie.”
She walked into his arms and laid her head on his chest.
“You’re fine,” Hunt said. “You know what’s happening, right?”
“No, I don’t,” she mumbled.
He buried his face in the fire of her hair and held her close. “Close your eyes, love, and imagine this scene. Family and friends have just gathered for a meal after burying Grandpa. At first everyone is quiet and reverent. They get their food and start eating, and they begin to feel better. Somebody mentions how good the food is. And then someone else reminds them of how their people made it different, and then someone else reminds them of how much Grandpa loved pie, and they laugh. And then the shock of having laughed at such a moment when they’re supposed to be sad is suddenly an embarrassment, and the room is silent again.”
She could see the image he was painting.
“Well, darlin’, that’s where you are right now. Your reality hasn’t caught up with your truth. There’s no one left to judge you, and it sure as hell won’t be me. And we know ashes don’t hold a soul captive. You know that little guy went home a long time ago. And a stuffed bear isn’t going to judge you. If toys went to heaven, I think that bear would be happy with the job you have given him.”
Her face crumpled. “How did you get so smart?”
“I don’t know, darlin’. Maybe it’s because I know you better than you know yourself?”
She looked up, and when she did, he kissed her, soft and slow, then set her free.
“You’re right,” Lainie said. “I’m not second-guessing my choice. I’m just not good at letting go.”
“Good. Then that means you won’t be one of those wives who has a constant urge to get rid of her husband’s treasures...like the old jersey from his football days, and the cleats he wore in the homecoming game.”
She blinked. “Do you still have that stuff?”
“I might.”
She sighed. “God, how I love you.”
“Feelin’s mutual, darlin’. Now can I ask you a question?”
“Absolutely,” she said.
“Can I have that last piece of lemon pie in the fridge?”
She grinned. “Been eatin’ at you, has it?”
“Is that a yes?”
She laughed out loud, and then blinked. “Oh, wow. This is me laughing at the family dinner, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I’ll give you the first bite.”
“I never could tell you no.”
* * *
IT WAS THE morning of the funeral. The day was clear, but a little cool. Lainie dressed for warmth, choosing a pair of black winter slacks, a blue cashmere sweater to wear under the matching jacket and soft black socks with a pair of black loafers.
A quick glance in the full-length mirror was the assurance she needed. She mostly looked like herself again. Same long auburn hair hanging below her shoulders. Same arched eyebrows and thick lashes. Same oval face and straight nose. Same lips. Hunt called them kissable. But he also considered her entire body kissable, so there was that. Considering Hunt liked her best naked, then she only had to please herself, and turned away.
Hunt was still in the bathroom shaving, so she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was hard to figure out how to feel. This wasn’t a new loss. And for her, it wasn’t fresh grief. Maybe it was about turning loose. Of giving up. All she knew was that the hole in her heart would be real.
She took her coffee to the kitchen table, then sat with her view to the backyard. Before long, the first snow would fall. It wouldn’t last. It was just a forerunner of the long winter to come.
She could hear Hunt opening drawers and doors down the hall, and knew he was getting dressed. She smiled. The sound of his presence was her blessing. She would never ask God for more. Then she heard him coming up the hall and turned to look, then forgot to breathe.
He was a sight to behold—the soldier he’d been, in full-dress warrant officer uniform, holding his hat. A black dress jacket, adorned in gold braid and stars. Blue trousers with a gold stripe down the outside of each leg. A white, semiformal shirt with a turn-down collar. A black bow tie. The array of service medals was a roadmap of his accomplishments, then she saw the Purple Heart. She knew he had one. But she’d never seen it.
He was searching her face for approval. “To honor our son,” he said.
Lainie put a hand on her heart. “You honor us all. I don’t think I ever said this aloud, but...thank you for your service.”
He nodded. “Are you ready, darlin’?”
“Almost,” she said.
He followed her to the living room, then to the rocking chair by the hearth. She picked up the little bear, gave it a hug, then handed it to Hunt.
His eyes briefly closed as he held it to him, and then they were gone.
The ride to the funeral home was silent.
Lainie held the bear in her lap all the way, and when they arrived, the director was waiting.
“Follow me,” he said, and led them into a viewing room, and up to the tiny, satin-lined casket and the small nosegay of white roses lying on top of it.
Lainie laid the bear inside, as if she was putting a baby to bed, then Hunt stepped forward, and to their surprise, removed his Purple Heart and pinned it onto the bear’s chest, right above the metal heart within it.
“He fought his own war,” Hunt said.
They were holding hands as the director closed and locked the casket, and then they followed its passage through the winding halls of the funeral home and out to the waiting hearse in the adjoining garage. They stood in silence, watching as the casket and flowers were loaded, and then were escorted to the family car.
Mr. Taylor seated Hunt and Lainie in the back, and as soon as the doors shut behind them, Hunt put his hat in his lap and turned and kissed her.
“This is the hardest day, and you’re the bravest person I know. Stay with me, darlin’. I’ve got your back.”
Her eyes were welling with unshed tears, but she had no regrets. “This is why I waited. I could never have done this without you.”
“The same people who broke us, broke him. We’re free from them now, and he deserves the same level of release.”
Mr. Taylor got behind the wheel as the pastor took the seat beside him. The drive was brief, and as soon as they stopped behind the hearse, they all exited the car.
Once again, Hunt was steadying Lainie’s steps as they approached the hearse. Upon their arrival, he handed Lainie over to the director.
“Mr. Taylor, I would appreciate it if you would steady my lady’s steps. She’s still healing from her ordeal.”
“It would be my honor,” Taylor said, and offered Lainie his arm.
Hunt put on his hat, then leaned into the back of the hearse and picked up the casket. There was a brief moment of clarity as he measured the weight of it. The pack he’d carried throughout basic training weighed thrice this, maybe more, but the absence of life within it was a weight he would forever bear.
He’d already seen the little tent on the hill where the grave had been dug and started toward it, with the rest of the entourage behind him.
He would remember later, the crunch of dead grass and pebbles beneath his feet. Sunlight glittering on a tombstone in the distance, the chill of the wind against his face, and then they were there. With yet another step of the finality of the moment, he set the little casket on the framework of the casket lowering system and moved back to her.
The pastor they didn’t know began reading a psalm.
Lainie was weeping silently.
Blinded by his own tears, Hunt reached for her hand.
The act of burial was the final rite of passage, and Hunt was moving through the service in the same way he’d followed orders—in duty and silence.
Eleven years he’d been a father without knowing it. The unborn child had been given his name, and today, he carried him to the grave.
Hunter James Gray II had never taken a breath, or let out a cry, but today, his mother and father were crying for him.
And then the pastor stopped talking.
The grave attendants moved to the CLS and began lowering the casket until it stopped.
Lainie stepped forward, picked up a handful of dirt from the grave and tossed it onto the casket. Hunt did the same, and then they stood vigil at the site until all of the dirt had been replaced.
In her heart, they’d just put their baby to bed. Leaving it behind was the hard part for her, but he was already with the angels. This parting was for them.
The white roses were on the grave now, and they were driving a temporary grave marker into the ground when Hunt heard Lainie moan beneath her breath, then grab his arm to steady herself. One look, and he knew she was done.
“Darlin’, are you hurting?”
She nodded. “I’ve been standing too long.”
Hunt looked around for Taylor, and then called out to him.
“Sir, I need to get Lainie home.”
Taylor jumped into action and headed toward the car, as Hunt swung her up in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “All of a sudden, I just gave out.”
“You don’t apologize to me. Doing this for you is my joy.”
The director took them back to the funeral home and pulled up beside their Jeep.
“Here you are, but can I get you anything before you leave? Some water, maybe?”
“We have some in the Jeep,” Hunt said, “but thank you for everything.”
“This is a service I will never forget,” the director said.
“You gave us everything we asked for. It was perfect,” Lainie said.
“We are always here for you,” Taylor said, and drove away.
“I can walk from here,” Lainie said.
“Yet, I will carry you,” Hunt said, and the moment she was in the seat, he slipped the shoes from her feet, and then brushed a kiss across her lips.
“Buckle up, darlin’. We’re going home.”
Chapter Nine
The ensuing week was about moving forward.
Hunt carried the little rocking chair to the attic, and Lainie put a potted plant in its place.
After a last trip to Dr. Wagner, he declared her feet healed and cleared her to return to work. She was put back on the roster for the following Monday, but her car had been sitting in the garage for so long that Hunt took it to a garage to be serviced before she started driving it again.
“You’re as handy to have around as a pocket on a shirt,” Lainie said, when he came back and dropped the car keys in her hand.
“If I’m gonna be a pocket, I want to be the one on the backside of your pants,” he said, and kissed her soundly.
She laughed and the Universe took her joy, bound it with a thousand others and sent it out into the world.
He was still reeling from the joy on her face as he stroked the tip of his finger along her cheek. “No bruises left.”
“I know. I’m me again,” she said.
“Are you ready to take another ride?” he asked.
It was the tone in his voice. “Where to?” she asked.
“The courthouse. To get that marriage license.”
Lainie gasped. “Yes, oh yes, but my hair’s a mess. I need to change clothes, and...”
He pulled a little black velvet box from the pocket of his flight jacket and opened it, revealing the diamond-encrusted wedding band inside.
Her throat tightened with emotion. “Oh, Hunt. It’s beautiful. I’ll brush my hair and get my purse,” she said, then bolted.
He shouted down the hall, “I expect the same level of excitement when I take you to bed tonight!”
He could hear her laughing, and wondered what her reaction would be when she found out he would be flying choppers for the National Park Service in Denver. After their diligence in searching for Lainie, he liked the thought of being part of that.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, they were standing in the corner of the court clerk’s office, before a justice of the peace. Lainie was holding a bouquet of daisies, still wrapped in the cellophane from the supermarket, while the lines of people in the clerk’s office waiting to be served, now stood as witnesses.
They’d already figured out who the bride and groom were. Everyone knew her name. And their story. And now they were seeing them in the flesh, witnessing their marriage.
Phones were recording the vows. Pictures were being taken. And when Hunter Gray slipped the ring on her finger and kissed his wife for the very first time, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
“We’re married! We’re finally married,” Lainie whispered.
“And I get to call you my wife,” Hunt said.
“Gator’s wife,” she corrected. “We need another picture to send the guys!” She turned to face the crowd. “Wedding pictures! Will somebody take pictures of us?”
The volunteers were endless. Pictures were taken on both of their phones, and Lainie thanked them profusely when they gave them back.
“I’d throw my bouquet, but I’m pretty sure these daisies are on their last legs. All I’d do is make a mess for somebody else to clean up, so I’m going to take them home and let them shed on my table.”
“And, without a threshold to carry her over, I’ll have to settle for the exit,” Hunt said, then swooped her up in his arms and carried her out the door.
* * *
VIDEOS AND PHOTOS with accompanying stories were hitting the internet before they even got home, but they wouldn’t have cared. Their plans involved making love, and opening that bottle of champagne they’d been saving, and making love, then emptying the bottle.
Their wedding dinner was pizza with everything, compliments of SliceWorks and served by DoorDash. There were no pictures involved. They weren’t wearing enough clothing for modesty’s sake.
* * *
BACK IN NEW ORLEANS, a little gray-haired lady named Millie Swayze was sitting in her recliner with her feet up, a laptop in her lap and a bowl of cheese puffs beside her, eating away as she scrolled through Facebook.
When she came to a post she’d been tagged in, she stopped and read it.
Check it out. Meant to be, her friend said, and attached a video.
Millie clicked it. The images of the people in the video were a little fuzzy, and the sound wasn’t great, but when she realized what she was seeing, and who they were, she started laughing and crying.
“Praise the Lord! Good for you, babies...good for you! You beat them, and you beat the odds!” She licked the cheese dust off her fingers, then reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Now I can die happy! But in the meantime, I’ll be sipping a little wine cooler to toast your long and happy lives.”
* * *
