Forty-Five
T he pastor droned on about the generosity and kindness of Dan Brandonson. Men and women of God weren’t supposed to lie, but Scott supposed they made exceptions for funerals.
Lauren leaned close and whispered. “Everyone is here for you. Not him.”
His hand tightened around hers. His father’s funeral was the last place he wanted to be, and she knew it.
The day after he and Lauren had christened all the rooms in their new house, their friends and Lauren’s dad had come over to help plan his father’s funeral. Lauren finally convinced him that if he was moving back to Iron Creek, not going to his father’s funeral wasn’t going to be an option. She was right. But she usually was when it came to the little intricacies of small-town dynamics. He had spent too much time away to appreciate how effective gossip could be when it took place across the counter at the local hardware store instead of plastering the pages of some website hoping for more clicks.
The pastor gracefully skipped the part of the service where someone came up and spoke about the dearly departed. No one had volunteered to give a eulogy. That was one argument Lauren hadn’t won. There was no way Scott was willing to stand up in front of people he hadn’t seen in years and tell them what a great guy his dad was. Even Jim hadn’t volunteered for the task.
The muffled whispers from Jake and Melody sitting behind them interrupted his thoughts, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. From the way Lauren’s body shook, she must have heard their conversation and found it funny. He almost asked her what they had said, but it would have to wait until later. Too many people were there to witness Scott’s reactions, waiting for him to do or say something to feed the rumor mill for the next few weeks.
The rumor mill was also the only reason he was acting as a pallbearer and carrying the coffin out of the church after the service. He had tried to get out of the task, and Jim called in reinforcements by way of Jake’s dad, who informed him that not being a pallbearer wasn’t an option. It was one thing not to give a eulogy. It was something else entirely not to be a pallbearer. At least they would join him in that onerous duty.
Lauren must have begged Mac to help too, and Jake and Trent had volunteered before anyone had to make a list for the fifth and sixth men. His father didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to be carried on the shoulders of the men he hurt in front of the town he betrayed.
“They’re looking at you again,” Lauren’s soft whisper ticked his ear and thoughts.
“They’ve been trying to contact me.” He kept my voice as soft as possible. The owners of the mine sent several letters before moving to phone calls. They claimed to be contacting him because they wanted to make arrangements to offer their respect to his father, but Scott knew better. They wanted to know exactly what he knew and what he planned on doing with the information Especially since he didn’t stop his digging into them after they leaked Arlen’s stint in rehab.
“Are you going to talk with them?”
“Nope.” They could spend their time wondering what he knew and what he would do. It served them right.
The pastor finally finished, and the only reason Scott knew he finished was because the pastor was looking at him. Silence filled the church except for the sound of the men standing and walking to the front of the church to the coffin. Lauren nudged him and he reluctantly stood as Melody slipped in front of him so she could sit next to Lauren.
The six men hoisted the coffin to their shoulders and walked down the center aisle to the door of the church. He couldn’t look at anyone’s face. This was a sham, and he was the biggest liar there. A bigger liar than even his father.
He didn’t deserve their sympathy.
Jim guided them to the hearse with soft words, coordinating the effort so the coffin smoothly slid into the back without any mishaps.
The executives who had been doing their best to talk with Scott walked out of the church and as a choreographed unit, cut through the crowd and headed toward him. Instead of waiting to hear their words of sympathy, he turned his back to them and walked away.
He wasn’t discreet, but he didn’t make a big deal about it. And thankfully, Jake and the others ran interference for him.
The town didn’t have a limo service, but the funeral home provided a black sedan with a driver for family members. The distance from the church to the cemetery measured less than five miles. He could have driven himself. But once again Lauren’s logic won the day. Everyone used the car and refusing the service would have raised more eyebrows, especially after not giving a eulogy or saying anything by the graveside.
“Come on. You’re almost done.” Lauren’s hand slipped into his and her reassuring presence pushed him on.
“I just want to tell them everything.”
“Yeah, but what good is that going to do? What happened, happened, Scott. You didn’t tell your father to do it and you didn’t even know about it until well after it happened.” She pulled him along with her to the waiting car.
“I’d feel better about it.”
“And Iron Creek would be even more broken than it is now.” Her fingers squeezed around his. “Let it die with your father. You can do what you can to give back to Iron Creek, but no one else needs to know.”
They slid into the backseat of the car and in an unspoken agreement, changed topics to keep the driver from overhearing anything.
“A lot of people turned out. More than I expected.”
“Your father was on the council, of course they would pay their respects.” Lauren pressed her arm against his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “They’ll also bring loads of casseroles to the wake. I’m glad I made room in the freezer.”
“Why?” He asked without wanting to know the answer. The question acted as a filler.
“Why I made room in the freezer or why they’ll bring casseroles?”
“Why the casseroles?”
“It’s what people do. They make casseroles. Things that freeze well because despite living in a world where we can get complete dinners in a grocery store, the ladies of Iron Creek think everyone still cooks full dinners from scratch. That takes time and when you’re grieving, the last thing you want to worry about is how you’re going to feed your family at dinner.” Lauren’s matter-of-fact response made perfect sense.
Nowhere else in the country, except for towns like Iron Creek, would people show up at a wake with a tuna noodle casserole because it froze well.