“Fuck that store. I’d burn that just as quickly as I’d burn him.” He shoved back from the table and stood. “I’m staying at the Brick Hotel in town. Call me if you need anything.” He paused when he spotted the crumb cake on the counter, his scowl burning into the crumbled topping as he seethed with unspoken fury.
He never even took off his coat. Pausing at the kitchen entrance, he looked back and said, “I’ll pay for the casket and I’ll pay for the grave so we can bury him once and for all, but I’m not paying for a service or a stone. He already left his imprint. I’ll be damned if I contribute to one more lie about the kind of man he was.”
CHAPTER 11
“And now we ask friends and family to say their final goodbyes, placing a flower with Ward as we lay him to rest. Erin?”
She stared at the priest she hired for the service. Her gloved fingers clutched the single yellow rose he’d given her when they arrived at the cemetery after the church mass. Harrison stood by her side, but he refused to accept a rose or act as a pallbearer. He said he’d pay to have him hauled away and hadn’t said much since.
As others watched her expectantly, grateful for the shelter of her sunglasses, she stepped forward. A muddy path had been cleared out of the snow leaving a cramped area for the mourners to stand.
Harrison caught her elbow as her high heel sunk onto the AstroTurf carpet surrounding the grave and she dropped her flower onto the polished wood surface of the coffin.
No thought entered her mind aside from the fact that it was kind of her brother to make sure she didn’t slip or fall. She stepped back and looked at the ground.
“Now, friends,” the priest invited.
The wind cut across the land, teasing the hem of her black dress and chilling her nose. The shuffle of feet over the frozen ground mixed with the subdued rasp of clothing shifting as several of the older townsfolk approached the grave. A few coughed and cleared their throats.
As expected, her father had a good turnout. More people probably showed up for him than would ever show up for her.
She watched the yellow roses pile up and in the distance, doors opened and closed as people went back to the heat of their cars.
“Your father was a special man.”
Erin looked up, not knowing the older gentleman who spoke to her.
“My condolences to you both,” the man said, then nodded, walking toward the line of cars.
“Let’s go,” Harrison whispered in her ear.
But Mr. and Mrs. McCullough approached before they could sneak away.
Mrs. McCullough pulled her into a hug and Erin tensed. “I’m so sorry for your loss, dearie. Your dad will surely be missed.” She went on to hug Harrison, but he did not hug her back. He did, however, shake Mr. McCullough’s hand.
Erin glanced to the left, seeing several of their children waiting. Why were they all there? They didn’t know her dad as well as their parents’ generation. And they certainly weren’t there for her.
Then she saw Finn and mirrored his sad smile. They were there because he asked them to come. For the first time that day, she worried she might cry.
He whispered something to his wife, and they stepped forward, placing two flowers on the casket and turning to her.
“Hey,” he greeted, brushing a brief kiss on her numb cheek. “How you holdin’ up?”
“I’m okay.”
Mallory reached for her gloved hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Erin.”
“Thank you.”
Finn said a few words to Harrison, all surface talk with no real meaning. The other McCulloughs didn’t approach. When Finn and Mallory walked away, they followed, as did Mrs. McCullough’s two sisters and their husbands.
Erin sucked in a breath when the only person who remained was Giovanni. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but she knew he looked at her.
“I’ll meet you in the car,” Harrison said, leaving her alone at the graveside.
Giovanni slowly approached but paused to lay his flower on her father’s grave. He whispered something, but the wind stole his voice, then he made the sign of the cross.
Her heart thundered in her chest when he turned and faced her. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
Why was he there? “I thought you left on Sunday.”
“That was the plan. But it didn’t feel right, leaving things the way we had. I wanted to call, but I don’t have your number and…with everything going on, I didn’t want to intrude on your family. God, Erin, I’m so sorry. How are you handling everything?”
In the distance, cars drove away—back to their ordinary lives, nothing really disturbed beyond the morning they all shared.
“I’m fine.”
“This is a lot to process. If you need someone to talk to—”