Chapter Seven #2
He forced himself to look away. To ignore the sudden lightness in his chest.
She hadn’t run. Instead, she’d come to his mother’s funeral.
For him.
Her gesture mattered more than he wanted it to.
His aunt and uncle joined him and his grandfather by the casket.
“ Shidá’í’ .” He offered his uncle a firm handshake, then let his aunt lean in and brush his cheek with a kiss. “ Shimá yázhí .” No matter how long they’d been estranged, his mother had made sure he knew who he came from, and how to speak to them with respect.
Their movements were stiff. Expressions guarded. As if unsure how to navigate the grief that stretched tight between them. Was it his presence that made them uncomfortable? Or was it standing this close to his mother? Someone they hadn’t spoken to in decades.
“You look well,” his uncle offered.
Caleb nodded. “Thank you for coming.” The words sounded formal, as if he were speaking to complete strangers.
In a way, he was.
His aunt reached for his hand. “Your grandmother and mother are gone, but you will always have a mother. ”
“ Ahéhee? shimá yazhí ,” he thanked his aunt, his voice stiff. The words rang hollow. “If I ever move back here, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Vanessa’s face brightened. “Are you thinking of coming home?”
“This isn’t home.” The words slipped out before he could corral them.
Her expression faltered. His uncle’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
A discrete knock broke the tension.
The funeral director poked his head in, speaking in his hushed tone. “Reverend Avery is here. If you are ready, we can begin the service.”
Caleb cast a pointed look at his family, then at the door. “I’d like a minute alone with shimá .”
His grandfather gave a single nod. “We’ll find our seats.”
As they filed out, Gia glanced over her shoulder.
He managed a small smile to ease the concern in her eyes. Why was it easier to accept comfort from a stranger than from the people who shared his blood?
The door clicked shut, leaving him in a quiet room with only the empty shell of his mother for company.
It felt all too familiar, this aloneness.
As a boy, he’d known it well. He’d learned to read the signs of her spirals early.
The slurred speech, the dilated pupils, the hollow laughter that meant trouble was coming.
He’d watched her disappear into that world more times than he could count, and every time it took a piece of him with it.
Then she’d pull herself together and be the mother he needed.
For a while.
He’d carried that sense of isolation with him when he left. He’d been a good teammate in the Special Forces—and he was a good teammate now at Dìleas. But a part of him always looked in from the outside, never quite belonging .
The only person who’d ever understood him was dead—and he’d abandoned her long ago, too angry, too desperate to escape the harshness of their lives to return.
To her credit, she’d never asked him to.
He drew in a breath and opened the casket.
His mother lay nestled in white satin, her long, dark hair coiled into a bun.
Corn pollen dusted her face in the traditional way.
Someone at the funeral home had dressed her in the nicest clothes he’d found in her closet—a deep purple velvet blouse and a three-tiered skirt in harvest gold.
The few pieces of silver and turquoise jewelry Caleb’s father hadn’t pawned adorned her wrist. The squash blossom necklace around her neck was unfamiliar.
A small leather bag rested between her folded hands—more corn pollen for her journey.
Her face, ravaged from years of hardship and substance abuse, was pale and smooth.
She looked more like the beautiful young mother he remembered. Before life burned through her beauty and left her brittle.
At peace. Finally.
His chest burned with emotion he was trying so damn hard not to feel. He’d failed her, like her family had, and now, all anyone could offer her were prayers and a plot of dirt for her weary bones to rest.
He bent and pressed his lips to her cool forehead. “Walk in beauty, Mom.”
There wasn’t anything to do for her now except make sure the Phoenix police tracked down the person who’d given her the lethal drug and put them in prison or, better yet, in the ground.
He gently lowered the lid, then turned and walked out to join his family in the nave.
The Anglo minister, robed in white vestments, introduced himself and offered condolences before taking his place at the altar. In the corner, a gray-haired Diné woman settled at the upright piano .
Caleb sat alone in the front pew, separated from his grandfather, uncle, and aunt across the aisle. Zach and Gia had taken the row behind them. His grandfather’s security detail stationed themselves discreetly nearby.
As the funeral staff wheeled the casket to the altar, a hymn rose into the high ceiling, echoing off white stucco walls. Caleb stood, eyes fixed straight ahead, the bulletin clutched in one hand, unread.
Movement to his right caught his eye.
Gia scooted across the aisle and whispered. “Can I sit with you?” Her voice was hesitant. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
His chest tightened. “Please.” He shifted to make space.
Her bare arm touched his coat sleeve, and he swore he could feel the warmth of her touch beneath the fabric.
From the second row, Zach scowled.
Caleb almost grinned. Let his cousin stew.
He’d enjoy Gia’s company while he was here.
By this afternoon, he’d be gone, headed to Phoenix. Once he’d cleaned out his mother’s belongings and spoke to the police about her death investigation, he’d be on a plane back to DC.
Back to the life he knew and understood.
At the cemetery, the midday sun warmed the winter air.
Red clay and dormant sagebrush surrounded scattered headstones.
No flowers. No mementos. Only a barren landscape forgotten by the living.
Traditional Diné avoided spending time with their dead, believing that severing all ties ensured their loved ones’ passage to the spirit world .
Caleb’s mother’s casket was placed beside his grandmother’s grave. Gia stood at his side, bundled into a black puffer jacket, hands buried in her pockets.
“You don’t like the cold.” he said as she shivered.
“I lost my tolerance.”
He caught the faint edge to her voice and tucked the observation away.
As the priest delivered the final blessing, Caleb stood apart from his family. Gia stood with him, her presence grounding him.
His grandfather stepped forward first, scooping a handful of soil from the rocky earth. He scattered it over his daughter’s casket and said a few words in the language of his people. Then his uncle, his aunt, his cousin.
When it was Caleb’s turn, he crouched low and let the dry earth sift through his fingers.
She’d wanted to be buried here. The homeland she’d left behind.
He still didn’t understand why. He dropped the soil onto the varnished wood and stepped back as the cemetery workers lowered the casket into the hard-packed earth.
Gia’s gaze swept the land, her face drawn with a goodbye she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Not for his mother, whom she’d never met. He was good at reading people. Had to be in his profession. But even if he wasn’t, he would have known her intentions.
“You’re leaving,” He kept his voice low to keep it from carrying to where his family waited nearby.
Startled, she met his eyes.
“If you run, you’re alone.” He pulled his business card from his wallet and slipped it into her hand. “I can help. This is what I do. Your ex found you here—he’ll find you again. ”
The flash of fear in Gia’s eyes twisted like a knife in his gut. He cursed himself for putting it there.
“She has a life here.” Zach appeared at their side, shoulders squared, chin raised. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Their graveside tête-à-tête had started to draw attention.
Caleb’s grandfather stepped out from the back of one of the Tahoes. Waving off his security detail, he joined them, his sharp gaze moving from one to the other.
“This is not the place for conversation,” he said firmly. “Zach told me what happened last night. Lucy has prepared food. Important decisions are best made on a full stomach and with reflection.”
“I need to get to Phoenix,” Caleb said. But strangely, his heart wasn’t in it.
“You need to eat before you go, Grandson. Please.”
It was the plea in the old man’s eyes that got him. The child who’d adored his grandfather pushing his way forward again.
Or maybe it was the tension in Gia’s shoulders. The way her lower lip trembled like she was holding herself together by sheer will.
It didn’t matter if he left later than planned. His mother’s belongings weren’t going anywhere, and the police were still in the early stages of investigating where she might’ve gotten the fentanyl disguised as prescription oxycodone.
“All right,” he said at last. “I’ll stay.”
His grandfather’s approving smile sparked fresh irritation. “For lunch,” Caleb added, a warning in his tone.
Gia’s eyes lit up. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of his coat, and the flutter in his chest was impossible to ignore.
“I’m sorry about your amá .” Her words were low, meant only for him. “And I’m glad you’re staying. Even if it’s just for lunch. ”
“Ride with me.” He scrambled for an excuse. “I don’t know the way to my grandfather’s home.”
Her lashes dropped, hiding her eyes. “Okay.”
Zach’s jaw flexed as he visibly bit back a retort. With a clipped turn, he stomped off toward his car.
Caleb held back a smirk.
He shouldn’t enjoy needling his cousin. After years of no contact, he thought he’d put Zach and the rest of his family out of his mind and moved on.
Apparently not.
It must be memories of how competitive they’d been as young boys.
Memories that would fade as soon as he left.
He hovered a hand behind Gia’s back, and when she didn’t stiffen, kept his touch butterfly light as he guided her to the Jeep.