Chapter 5
Damien
Four Days Later
‘What A Wonderful World’ - Live – Sarah Kroger
The Attic was the quietest it’s been when we stopped by this morning, and now that the city’s water has been cleared, everyone has gone home.
It was an adventurous week with everyone packed into that big building.
The hardest part was trying to operate where the kids couldn’t see us, but it certainly made it more fun.
It was really nice having everyone under one roof again.
All of the wives, kids, and families treated it like a camp getaway or something, and it was heartwarming despite the circumstances.
It felt like an eternity since we’ve had that capability, and having Marissa there was even more nostalgic.
It broke my heart to see her and the kids without Henry, but to see her actually smile and laugh, all while watching the kids play and thrive, was equally fulfilling.
I’m not sure it ever won’t be gut wrenching to watch them, but that’s a battle that only I’m responsible for.
Along with the reason I’m forced to wear a button up shirt.
I sit in the funeral home parlor as everyone around me starts to quiet down.
Charlie’s funeral is about to start, and while I wish I was holding her through this, she’s on stage by the podium with Jamie and Lucielle—who is apparently not Charlie’s girlfriend, come to find out.
She’s a wedding planner, and almost always used Charlie in the ceremonies she put together.
She told us that she let him say whatever he wanted about them, because he was ‘so sweet’ and just loved to witness people’s reactions.
Well played, Charlie. Well played.
Lucielle planned the funeral. That was a fight, because Charlie’s only son—that I also didn’t know about—only wanted him cremated.
No celebration of life, no prayers, nothing.
Obviously, that man has a lot of hate in his heart, but he gladly pawned everything over when I offered to pay for the service.
He did have the balls to attend today, which is shocking, but no one in the room is paying attention to him.
Today is for the people that loved and cherished Charlie as much as my wife did.
It's clear that he made a lot of mistakes early on in life, but from the sounds of who he was when he died, he fought tooth and nail to make up for them in other ways. He was damn good to Ashia and everyone else in this room today, which is all that needs to be pointed out. His son is sitting in the back of the room—that way, he can see himself out if needed. After the past week of hell, he better not cause any more. I’d hate to have to stir up trouble in front of all of these people, but I will if necessary.
Emmett couldn’t be here to say goodbye to his friend; there was just no way to bring him.
While he may be released from the hospital today, he still has a long road to a full recovery.
He had a heart attack the day after the mass attack, and in addition to being one of the poisoning victims and the heart strain, he’s had a lot of trouble since.
Linette’s medical knowledge, because of their son’s needs, plus hiring Jamie, is what convinced the doctors to release him early. So, at least he’s home.
Ashia stepped up and offered to handle Cut Me Down while he’s out, and even though I marvel over her confidence and empathy, I don’t necessarily agree.
Letting her go back to work on restricted duty was one thing.
She would be able to control her pace while picking which clients she would serve, and someone I trust would be there to watch over her every move—if I wasn’t, myself.
No stress, no worry, and certainly not an overwhelming gloom of failure.
Do I like the idea of my wife, who’s now fourteen weeks pregnant, taking on all of that stress?
No. But do I have the heart to look at her, tell her no, and make her feel like she can’t handle it? Also, no.
The preacher finally takes the podium and is the first to speak.
He recites the normal prayers like silk and drapes the parlor in faith that may not exist any other time.
Then he speaks about Charlie, and how he knew him for the past twenty years.
He also talks about how Charlie ‘devoted his life to seeing teeth,’ which was apparently an inside joke of theirs.
He just wanted to see people smile no matter what it took.
If I learned anything about the old geezer in the short time I knew him, it’s that.
I didn’t know Charlie all that well, but he stood by my wife and at our sides as we became one, so he’ll always hold a special place in our world.
There’s a picture of our wedding set upon the table at the front of the parlor, with Charlie hunched between us.
Apparently, he had it sitting in his living room next to his rocking recliner, and now it’ll sit in ours.
The first thing Ashia asked was if she could take it home, and after she let the question fly out so confidently, I wasn’t going to let anyone deny her request.
Ashia has mentioned something about putting up more pictures the past few weeks, and I never really thought about it before.
My parents have them all over the place, and normally, they just make my chest ache.
I’d have a thousand pictures of her posted if I could, though.
So, I suppose if we’re going to keep that one, we might as well add to the collection.
I never thought I would want my walls to make people sick, but thoughts of her face, pictures of us, and our family, plastered all over the walls of our home puts a flutter in my chest.
Once the preacher is finished, he invites Lucielle and Jamie up to speak.
They both have tears in their eyes and blotched faces.
Lucielle hugs Jamie a little tighter before she starts.
She speaks confidently through suppressed sobs and talks about how her and Charlie met.
Not in detail, thank God, but just enough for the answer to be right in front of our faces.
The way she talks about their friendship makes everyone weep, because it’s filled with so much appreciation and depth.
It’s like he truly saved her from drowning.
Jamie’s story that follows holds the same weight, and while their backstories are different, her admiration for Charlie is mutual.
She was his nurse for years, and they obviously had a close friendship.
Ashia suggested that she work as Emmett’s in-home care until he recovers, and when everyone agreed, I could feel the relief permeate through the room.
I was going to offer her a job at the Attic after recently going over her medical background, but that can wait until Emmett is back on his feet. She may not want to, and that’s alright as well, but anyone who Ashia considers family is just as much mine, and I’ll always make that clear.
Once Jamie is finished, and they step to the side, my beautiful wife takes the stand.
While her face shows grief and despair, I can’t help but take all of her in.
Her long, straight, black hair cascades down her body, landing at her lower back now.
Those ever-bright, golden-brown eyes beam as my own personal beacons—always calling me home and leading me back to her.
She’s wearing a modest black dress that comes down to her knees and fits loosely on her, but I know exactly what hides under that dress.
I know she wore it because it’s hot as hell out, and she’s felt so overheated lately that she was close to passing out a few times.
The heat this summer has been brutal. Plus, she’s running extra hot because of the hormones.
So, while I understand the clothing choice, a part of me wishes she had worn the first dress she tried on this morning.
It was a fitted gown that would not only show her flawless, growing breasts, and that tight, perfectly round ass, but also the sexiest addition—her lightly swollen belly.
It’s the ultimate proof that she’s mine, and that a pure combination of us both is growing inside of her.
I’ve been holding back for her sake, not wanting to test how much she’s healed since she was abducted and raped, but ever since she asked me to fucking rail her last week, it’s been a constant thought in the back of my mind.
Granted, that was before the city was attacked and multiple of our friends died.
I’m trying to be a respectful husband and let her grieve, but seeing her standing tall and so beautifully pregnant is not helping one bit.
The last thing we needed today was my cock standing at full attention in the middle of a funeral, but yet, here we are.
She clears her throat, getting ready to speak, and while that should calm me the fuck down and help me focus on more than her throat working my dick, it doesn’t.
Think of dead people. Think of dead people. Think of dead people…
“Everyone here knew Charlie,” she begins, her voice sweet and angelic.
“Some of us from different times and different places, but we’re all here with the same grief, and we all lost a friend.
” She wipes a teardrop from her eyes, and that alone forces my cock to settle.
Her tears have always affected me, and today is certainly no different.
Seeing her in any type of pain is my undoing.
“Charlie was a client of mine, but that is the very basic definition of our relationship. Most men go to a barber for confidence, reassurance, and occasionally to vent about all of their troubles. Our friendship was special because he was definitely all of those things for me as well.”
She chokes up a little, having to clear her throat again, and I get the urge to step up there with her.
I want to hold her as she gets through this, but just as I sit up a little straighter, Lucielle and Jamie step back up to her.
They loop their arms through hers and support her on stage as she looks down to me.
My chest becomes heavy with tenderness, and I nod at her softly, urging her to continue from below.
“I met him right after a personal tragedy, and he helped me in ways that no one else would. He didn’t look at me with pity, or stand around, waiting for me to break.
He offered me a type of patience that allowed me to heal at my own pace.
Even as the years went on and things suddenly changed around us, he never doubted me for a moment.
His friendship and that tolerance never wavered, and I will forever be thankful to have called him my friend.
” She takes a deep, shaky breath and pushes through.
“I would see him multiple times a week, if not every day, and we had this ritual that I didn’t quite understand at first. Anytime he was nervous about something, or even was just a little down, he would want me to sing for him.
I haven’t been able to do that much lately, and the thought of that alone breaks my heart, but I’m going to do it one last time here today—to give him the ‘mojo’ he said got him through the worst of times.
There were three songs that he liked, one he loved more than the others, and I didn’t quite get that either until today.
Seeing everyone here, gathered around to celebrate him, really opened my eyes to that reason.
While he knew I hated singing in front of others, I’m going to do it for him, because he’ll definitely need his mojo in Heaven. ..”
She wipes one last tear and takes another deep breath as she stands a little taller.
I know the entire room zones in to listen to her, but none as much as me.
Her voice is something constantly on my mind, and even though I hear her at any given moment—whether that’s awake or in my dreams—I can never get enough.
“I see trees of green. Red roses, too.
I see them bloom for me and you,
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
There’s no music behind her, but everyone can hear it.
Her voice is enough to carry through time and space, and while Charlie might have already been gone a week, he’s definitely here with her.
That old geezer never missed a chance to be at the front of her audience, and I guarantee that he isn’t missing this one.
Nothing ever stopped that persistent old man before.
“I see skies of blue, and clouds of white.
The bright blessed day. The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
I can feel the mood of the room change as she closes her eyes, really getting into the song.
She was so nervous this morning on our way here, knowing she was going to do this today.
But I certainly don’t see any evidence of it now.
I remember just a few months ago, when she sang in front of me for the first time, she was almost too shaky to finish cutting Carter’s hair.
Her confidence has come such a long way since then, and the epiphany might be just as beautiful as the words spilling from her lips.
“The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky.
And also on the faces of people passing by.
I see friends shaking hands saying, ‘How do you do?’
They're really saying, ‘I love you.’”
When her eyes open and meet mine just as she vocalizes those last three words in front of this entire room, I almost faint.
Is that what fangirling is? If so, I totally just fawned over my wife.
The capacity of her heart, and how pure she truly is inside, never ceases to amaze me.
It’s almost impossible for her not to care about every single person she meets, and her loyalty is unmatched.
She always talks about how deeply I feel, and how good I am at my words, but if someone were to ask me? She’s got me beat.
“I hear babies cry. I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”
The room is silent now. Sniffling and soft breaths are the only sounds around us, and no one dares to move. It’s as if we can all feel the same grief, the same sadness, and somehow, we’ve all agreed to sulk in it for just a while longer.