Kiss Me Cowboy (Cowboys of Crested Butte 3) - Page 47

“Do you want us to bring something back?” Paige offered.

“I’m not hungry, Mom. I’m sure Bree isn’t either.”

“I’ll bring it anyway. You don’t have to eat if you’re still not hungry.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Blythe turned to go back in the room where Bree waited.

“Honey, did you want to say hello to Tucker? He’s been here since this morning.”

“Why? Where is he?” she asked her mother, her voice almost a whisper.

Paige pointed to where Renie stood with Billy. Tucker was with them.

She wanted to walk to him, but she couldn’t move. She needed all of her strength, all of her energy, to take care of her sister. If she talked to Tucker or anyone else, she’d fall apart.

Finally word came that the plane was less than an hour away. The protocol staff briefed them on what would be happening. Only immediate family would be allowed on the tarmac when the plane landed. Other friends and family would be escorted into the viewing room where Blythe and Bree had spent the afternoon waiting with Zack’s parents.

Blythe held Bree’s hand as they walked outside—the scene, so much like what they’d just experienced in Dover except, this time, both their parents and Zack’s were with them.

The colonel approached to escort Bree and Zack’s parents closer. Blythe, her mom and dad, and Zack’s brother waited behind them. The color guard and armed guards marched onto the tarmac and approached the plane where it had come to a stop. The door opened, and the casket, draped in the American flag, was carried down by more men in uniform.

Blythe saw Bree about to fall before anyone else did, and moved closer. “Lean on me,” she whispered, trying hard not to cry herself. Bree’s sobs were almost more than she could bear.

When Zack’s casket was moved in front of them, near the rear door of the Humvee, Bree’s sobs grew louder. It was the worst sound Blythe had ever heard. Zack’s father leaned forward and put his hand on the casket. His mother buried her head on her husband’s chest.

Blythe squeezed her sister’s hand, and then let go. When Zack’s parents stepped away, Bree walked forward and laid her hands on the top of the casket and cried.

The military personnel waited, but it soon became evident that Bree would not leave the casket. When approached, Bree shook her head and climbed into the Humvee after they loaded the casket in, and rode to the funeral home alongside her husband.

As the cars in the processional left the tarmac and drove toward the gates of Peterson Air Force Base, every surface street was lined with soldiers, standing at attention and saluting as the Humvee passed. There were hundreds.

As they drove through the streets of Colorado Springs, cars were pulled off to the side of the road. As they passed, Blythe saw many of the drivers had gotten out of their cars and were saluting, too.

Colorado Springs was home to Peterson Air Force Base, Schriever Air Force Base, Fort Carson Army installation, and the Air Force Academy. Heartbreaking as it was to think about, military funerals took place too often in this community that was also home to many who had retired from active duty.

When they arrived at the funeral home, Blythe got out of the car and went to look for Bree. She found her sitting in a room, alone with the casket.

“What can I do?” Blythe whispered.

“Bring him back,” she answered.

More than four thousand people attended the visitation the next day. It started at two in the afternoon and did not end until nine that evening. Many who came, laid military coins or patches in the open casket.

As a former Air Force Academy cadet and graduate of the prestigious institution, there were countless stories about his willingness to serve his country, his loyalty, his sense of humor, and his goodness.

Blythe hadn’t realized that he’d volunteered for the Afghan deployment until she overheard someone talking to Bree about it. Even more tragic, that deployment was scheduled to end less than thirty days after he was killed.

Blythe saw Tucker, standing not too far away, and walked over to him.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.”

“But you haven’t talked to me.”

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