Bryce

Chapter 6

Bryce opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a moment to adjust to waking up in the fancy hotel room. There were no adjoining rooms available, so Rayelle talked him into booking a one-bedroom suite. He had insisted she take the bedroom so she could have more privacy. The sofa bed was plenty comfortable, and She had seen him in less than the sweatpants he slept in.

Sitting up, he looked around the room, his eyes landing on the suit that hung beyond the open closet door. The funeral was a few hours away and he was ready for it to be over. As cold as it sounded, he was anxious to close the chapter and move on. He’d lived his life in limbo since his mother died. It wasn’t easy knowing he had a brother out there who had severed ties without any explanation. He did what he could to keep his distance without judgment, but he wasn’t able to understand what could cause Brandon to be so angry with him even after their mom was gone.

“You ready for today?” Rayelle emerged from the bedroom wearing a hotel bathrobe over pink polka dot pajamas.

“Nice slippers.” He chuckled at the big pink bunnies on her feet. “I’m ready enough. How about you?”

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s weird. I know we’re here for his funeral, but I already grieved his loss when your mom died. He was dead to me when he left you to deal with that.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. She somehow put the gist of what he was feeling into that short statement. That could explain the feeling of limbo. He had already grieved for someone who was still alive, but he’d known it was only a matter of time before he would have to grieve for him again.

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” she began to explain.

“No. You didn’t. You said it perfectly. I’m glad you insisted on coming with me.”

“I would think you’d be used to me always being right. Now let’s order breakfast. We need a drink before we get this thing started, and if it’s mimosas we’re fancy and not a couple of drunks.”

Bryce covered his face with his arm and laughed. Leave it to Rayelle. All those years of friendship and he still never knew what to expect when he was talking to her. The week seemed to move in slow motion, but somehow the day of the funeral arrived before he knew it.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Samantha. You’re just what she needs,” Bryce said while still laughing.

“I can’t wait either,” Rayelle agreed. “She seems important to you in this short period of time. She’s okay with me coming with you guys?”

“I haven’t talked to her, but this isn’t a date. I’ll introduce you two in person.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “Why don’t you hop in the shower, and I’ll order breakfast. When you get out then I’ll get ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gave a salute then headed for the bathroom.

“And don’t take all morning!” she called after him.

Several minutes later, Bryce wrapped himself in the hotel robe he found hanging in the bathroom and rejoined Rayelle in the living area. As nice as the bathroom was, he didn’t want to get dressed in his suit in there. She was just uncovering a plate of food when she looked up at him. He eyed the two plates of food, bottle of champagne, and carafe of orange juice.

“Why do I feel like you’re celebrating?” he asked.

“Stop. I am not. It’s just French toast and bacon. And it made sense to do the mimosas this way. Do you have your travel cup?”

He was confused. “Yes?”

“Good. We can bring Samantha a mimosa, too. She’ll need it, I’m sure.”

Samantha gave herself a pep talk as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her black dress fell just below the knee. The black lace of the sleeves also cut across the top of her chest, taking over where the solid black fabric ended. She wasn’t sure if she pulled it off, but she was aiming for sophisticated but not matronly.

The day seemed to sneak up on her. It felt like an eternity had passed between when she said goodbye to Brandon at the hospital and the funeral, but she somehow still was not ready. All eyes would be on her. She knew she would be expected to look sad, but also be in complete control of herself. It was only one day. She could pull herself together for one day under the microscope. And once she got through the day she could finally move forward.

“You ready for this?” Meka asked from her seat on the sofa.

Meka had shown up first thing that morning with coffee and bagels and plenty of determination. Samantha was beyond grateful. She had been sitting on the side of her bed, frozen in place, when she heard the doorbell.

“I’m getting there. Thanks to you,” she answered.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom?” Meka offered.

Samantha immediately shook her head no. “This is complicated enough without adding one more thing to the mix. There’s no way she can get here for the funeral at this point and I’d rather she not be here anyway. Thanks, though.”

“I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’re here,” Samantha reminded her. “You know me and my mom don’t see eye-to-eye. For my own sanity, I just can’t deal with her. I don’t need a therapist to tell me she’s probably one of the reasons I ended up in my disaster of a marriage. I need to pick up these pieces before she comes in and stomps all over them.”

Before Meka could say anything else, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Samantha looked at her phone and saw it was nearly time for the car to pick them up. The Chief had arranged for an SUV to transport them to the funeral. Samantha would have been fine with a Town Car, but he insisted. She opened the door expecting to see the driver on the other side.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bryce said once she opened the door. “Had a hard time getting a cab.”

Samantha stepped back to give him room to step inside the apartment. The woman who was with him smiled as she caught her eye. She was pretty and about the same age, so she figured her for Bryce’s girlfriend and ignored the pang of disappointment.

“Samantha, this is my sister Rayelle. I hope you don’t mind her tagging along. She was having no part of me doing this alone,” Bryce explained.

Samantha didn’t mask her confusion. “Sister?”

Rayelle nudged Bryce aside and offered a travel cup to Samantha. “We aren’t really brother and sister. We just sort of adopted each other as kids. I’m very sorry for your loss, by the way. I know you’re ready to get this day over with.”

Samantha accepted the cup and was immediately disarmed by the other woman’s transparency. “I’m glad to meet you. This is my friend Meka. She’ll be coming along, too. I hope you don’t mind.”

Rayelle nearly cut her off before she finished speaking. “This is not about us. We’re here to support you. If you brought along a crew of circus clowns, it would be fine by us.”

Samantha was surprised to find herself laughing. She liked Rayelle. Taking a sip from the travel cup, she didn’t taste the coffee she was expecting. Surprised, she held the cup out and looked at it.

“Oh my gosh,” Rayelle said with a worried glance at Bryce. “Tell me you aren’t in recovery or something. We needed a drink this morning and ordered mimosas. Figured you could use a drink, too. I didn’t think to make sure it was okay. I’m sorry.”

Samantha laughed before taking another sip. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

When another knock sounded at the door, Bryce went ahead and opened it. Ordinarily, Samantha would have been annoyed at a guest opening her door, but it felt different. She liked that he was comfortable enough in her home to do so.

A man in black pants, a pressed white shirt, and a black hat stood on the other side of the door. He looked past Bryce and into the living room. “Mrs. Tate?”

“Yes?” Samantha responded before taking a step closer.

“Your vehicle is ready when you are. There’s room for six.”

She shrugged into her black knee-length trench coat and stepped into her black heels. She was as ready as she was going to get. It would be better to leave the house before she had a chance to think about it. The small group followed her out the door and Meka made sure the door was locked behind them. Bryce placed a gentle hand on her arm above her elbow and led her to the black SUV. It had to be nerves causing her skin to heat where he touched.

Samantha found herself clasping and unclasping her hands nervously once they were on their way to the church. It took everything she had to keep her breathing under control. She was feeling so many emotions she was unable to identify them all. Her hands felt cold, but her armpits tingled as she felt herself begin to perspire.

As if reading her mind, Bryce reached across the space between their two captain’s chairs and placed a hand over hers. Closing her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed his comfort to spread over her like a warm hug.

Her husband was dead. Reality smacked her in the face as the SUV pulled up in front of the church and came to a stop. Through the windshield, Samantha was able to see the black hearse where her husband awaited and an enormous crowd of people. Even though they’d decided on a semi-formal service, it was still an overwhelming sight. A sea of firefighters dressed in their class A uniforms lined the sidewalk as well as the walkway leading into the church. In front of the firefighters stood men wearing kilts and holding bagpipes or drums.

She squeezed Bryce’s hand. Further down the street were two fire trucks with the ladders raised to meet each other at the top. Hanging between the two was a large American flag. Her eyes met Bryce’s, and everyone else in the vehicle disappeared. The two of them understood each other and no one else was important in that moment.

The door opened and Bryce stepped out before reaching a hand to help Samantha step down. He pulled her close to one side and reached out to help Meka and Rayelle while the driver stood at the open door.

Tears blurred Samantha’s vision and ringing in her ears muffled the sounds as the funeral director opened the back door of the hearse. Eight firefighters wearing full dress uniforms helped unload the casket before standing at attention. She was vaguely aware of drums and bagpipes as Amazing Grace began to play in the background.

Bryce took her hand and together they made the slow walk into the church behind the pallbearers. Firefighters stood tall in salute as they walked past. Samantha was only aware of her breathing and the pounding of her heart. Brandon was dead. His body was in the box in front of her and all eyes were on her. But she was free.

The front row of the church wasn’t so bad. She’d much rather not see the people who watched her in hopes of a dramatic reaction. One at a time men stood on the stage to say kind words about Brandon Tate. The words all blended together. Bryce sat at the end of the aisle next to Samantha. Meka sat on her other side and next to Meka sat Rayelle. Rayelle seemed to fit in with both Samantha and Meka right away. She was glad to have the small group to support her.

“…one such tradition is the ringing of the bell… when a firefighter dies in the line of duty, paying the ultimate sacrifice, it is the mournful toll of the bell that solemnly announces a comrade’s passing…” Samantha did her best to listen to what was being said, but all she heard were bits and pieces.

The bell rang three times. Samantha took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The bell rang three more times as tears began to escape. The bell rang three final times, and the tears finally flowed freely. Her husband was dead. The community was in mourning. She mourned the life she no longer had. Death was the ultimate enemy no matter what side you were on.

“It’s okay,” Bryce leaned over and whispered in her ear as they stood and watched the pallbearers take their place on either side of the casket. “I’m here.”

Drums sounded and the hum of the bagpipes began. They stood and made the slow walk behind the casket once again. Going Home sounded out from the bagpipes as they followed closely behind. Samantha tuned out the sound of the bagpipes in favor of feeling the tap of her feet as they connected with the ground at every step. Men and women saluted as they walked. They continued to salute as they stepped back into the SUV. Drums and bagpipes continued as they made the slow drive behind the hearse to the cemetery.

The tears continued and Samantha cursed herself for wasting them on a man who treated her so terribly. What kind of person cried over someone who made their life miserable? She couldn’t explain the meaning of her tears. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t angry. She simply felt more emotions than she was capable of keeping on the inside.

Bryce squeezed her hand again, reminding her that she wasn’t alone, and she was able to start regaining her composure. The bagpipes, the drums, and the firefighters were all there out of tradition. All the pomp and circumstance were simply because he was a firefighter. It had nothing to do with how good or bad of a person he was. She did her best to remind herself of that.