Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
JOSH
The death of someone as beloved as Roland Chomping had gutted the town.
One loss was enough to rattle the community.
Two, at the same time, left people shaken and raw.
A sea of mourners in their Sunday-best black packed the pews of the Methodist church until there was barely standing room.
Roland might’ve been a proud Baptist, but Hope had been Methodist, stubbornly so, and after they married, she made sure they only attended the Methodist church.
Today, loyalty to the living won out over denomination.
The Baptists in attendance, like my parents, acted like soldiers entering enemy territory, eyes wary and backs stiff, but their grief outweighed old rivalries. The air hummed with tension and sorrow, thick enough to choke on.
I took my place in the front pew and fanned my face with my eulogy notes. It had to be eighty degrees in here.
The funeral director, his swoopy, greased, straight-out-of-1962 hairdo gleaming under the dim lights, leaned over Erika at the far end of the pew and stage-whispered, “We’re working on the heat.
Someone cranked it to ninety. Probably a prankster.
The AC’s on, but it’ll take a bit before we stop slow-roasting.
” He snapped back upright like a spring-loaded toy. “Gotta run. The show’s about to start.”
I hadn’t talked to Erika at all yesterday after I slipped out before dawn. Before she woke up. She looked entirely different in a black dress with her hair neatly tucked into some sort of fancy bun.
Dante leaned forward from the pew behind me, aiming for the ear farthest from Erika like he was delivering state secrets. “So, did you convince her to stay yet?”
“No.”
“But you slept over at her place Friday night.”
“She passed out on the sofa. I couldn’t bail on Vinny. The kid needed at least one functioning adult in the house.”
“Nothing happened?”
I shook my head.
Dante let out a tiny, scandalized gasp. “Did you decide if you want her to stay?”
I gave a small nod, but it felt like admitting something huge.
The pastor, draped in dark robes, swung a censer as he made his way to the pulpit—more like a Catholic bishop than anything I’d ever seen in this church.
The smoke curled through the air, unfamiliar and faintly jarring.
I’d sat through enough Sundays here and at the other church to know this wasn’t his usual routine.
It wasn’t even a Methodist thing. Which meant it had to be a Roland thing. Something he’d wanted for his memorial.
“Well?” Dante hissed in my ear.
“I want her to stay, okay?” I whispered back.
“Definitely the right decision.” He patted my back before leaning back into his seat.
“Let us pray,” the pastor said into the microphone at the pulpit.
The prayer went on so long I started peeking around to see who else had abandoned the head-bow. I caught Vinny staring straight ahead like a bored owl and pointed at him. He scowled and immediately bowed his head, hands folded, eyes wide open.
After the “amen” the pastor waved at the pianist to play a prepared song.
She was in the middle of an unusual rendition of an 80’s pop song when her phone went off at what had to be the loudest ringer setting.
“She Taught Me How to Yodel” by Frank Ifield echoed through the sanctuary.
The pianist fumbled with the phone to silence it, but it immediately set off again yodeling.
I covered my face to hide my silent laughter. Roland’s ghost must be screwing with his funeral.
When her phone set off for the third time with hyperactive yodels, I peeped through my fingers toward Erika where she sat at the end of pew.
Her lips fought laughter. She widened her eyes at me as if scolding me before she covered her face.
Her shoulders shook. She sure as hell wasn’t crying.
That pushed me into silent crying laughter.
I had my tears under control by a few minutes into the preacher’s lecture about death. Couldn’t we just move on to testimonials? I was scheduled to speak after Erika.
The hour of testimonials, which consisted of story after story about Hope or Ronald saving pets or volunteering, completely overwhelmed me.
Erika moved to the podium and bowed her head, as if offering a silent prayer of her own.
After a few steadying breaths, she looked up.
“Thank you for being here today. Thank you for the stories you’ve shared about two people who left us far too soon.
This loss was sudden, and it has shaken all of us in ways we’re still trying to understand. ”
She gave a small, wistful smile. “Dad always used to say, ‘Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth.’”
A soft ripple of laughter moved through the room, the kind that carries both warmth and ache.
“I’m sure every one of you has a Roland-ism tucked away somewhere—a terrible joke, a ridiculous euphemism, or something he said at exactly the wrong moment that somehow made it the right one.
That was him. He could make you groan and laugh in the same breath.
He believed humor could steady a room. Sometimes it was his way of easing someone else’s fear. ”
Her expression softened. “And then there was Hope.” She let the name rest there.
“Where Dad filled a room with laughter, Hope filled it with caring. She didn’t need punchlines. She had a way of reminding people they mattered. If Dad was the one who helped you smile, Hope was the one who made you feel safe enough to do so.”
She took a slow breath. “He cared deeply for his patients and the people who came with them. He cared about your stories and your worries. He remembered details of your families. And Hope cared for all of you in the quiet spaces in between. Together, they were balance. Together, they made a beautiful home.”
I was floored by how perfect that was, especially from someone who didn’t know Hope. Perhaps, Marty gave her hints on what to say.
I didn’t remember standing up to give the eulogy I’d prepared. Somehow, I only came back to myself when it was already over.
In somber silence, the caskets were placed in the graveyard out back of the church. The brisk wind made for a short graveside service.
About half of the funeral attendees progressed to the reception, which Marty had decided to host at the clinic. She’d decorated the lobby with old pictures of Roland and Hope.
By the time I arrived at the clinic, Vinny had disappeared out back to hang out with two boys from the baseball team.
Erika wore her stress-smile as she shook hands and accepted condolences from an endless line of people. Her black long-sleeved dress was conservative but still flattering. And that fancy bun gave her an air of tragic elegance.
I got in the back of the line to offer my condolences too.
When I got to her, we stared at each other for a few silent moments.
Her wide, shocked eyes lifted from our clasped hands to lock with mine.
A million things pushed into my head, stuff I should say.
Instead of the snarky, combative woman I’d been dealing with all week, right now I could see the broken girl who’d lost her mother too young and then had to watch her father drift away until he found someone else to love.
This was the hollowed-out soul I’d watched at Hope and Roland’s wedding, who I stayed clear of as part of our unspoken agreement to keep the peace.
Hoarsely, I said, “This is tough.”
Her hand still held mine. The vulnerability I’d glimpsed disappeared behind the walls she kept in place to keep the world from hurting her. “It is.”
I didn’t want to push her right now in order to settle our future or dredge up more pain from the past. She looked so wiped out. The last thing I wanted to do was add to her pain. If I said anything, she’d dish out something hurtful to protect herself.
Instead, I squeezed her hand and let go. Someone behind me put a hand on my shoulder.
I was surprised to see my mom. She took Erika’s hand that I’d just relinquished.
“You’re holding up great, hon. I’m sorry they’re gone.
You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.
” She leaned in and whispered, making sure I overheard, “You let me know if either of my sons act like horse patooties. I’ll box their ears and make them apologize. ”
Erika broke into a genuine smile. “I might hold you to that.”
Mom hooked her arm in mine and tugged me away. “You best leave her be today. Listen, I’m going to grab one of Marty’s brownies and run. Hate doing it, but I’ve got to set up for the supper at the church.” She went on tiptoe to kiss me on the cheek. “Behave yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
A couple whose names I couldn’t recall converged on me the moment she left.
They launched into a discussion of their chihuahua who regularly puked up things they hadn’t known had gone missing.
I gave them a work smile and nodded. In the back of my mind, I prepared myself for the future surgical removal of at least one of those items.
Across the room, Drew, polished in a sharp suit, slid a hand along the small of Erika’s back as he leaned in to talk to her. She laughed, soft and easy, and he caught her hand, lifting it to his lips before brushing it with a kiss.
Something twisted hard in my chest, snapping tight like a wire pulled past its limit. Heat crawled under my skin—slow, dangerous, and possessive.
“Stand down. Too many witnesses here to kill him outright.” Dante forced me to accept a Solo cup of red punch. He ordered, “Drink. I spiked it.”
I hadn’t even realized the chihuahua people had moved away.
I sipped. Hawaiian punch had nothing on the sweet fruity concoction that frequented events like this around town. The added vodka scorched the back of my throat and made me cough.
“We should spike the big bowl too. Might make this crowd more interesting.” Dante sipped from his cup.
“How are you a sheriff’s deputy?” I toasted the plastic cup his way.