Chapter 5
Claire
The church was full.
That was the first thing that struck me, not the flowers or the coffins or the unbearable finality of it all, but the sheer number of people packed shoulder to shoulder in the pews.
Maplewood had turned out in force, dressed in dark coats and quiet respect, filling every inch of the space as if proximity might somehow soften the loss.
It didn’t.
I sat in the second row with Bill and Emma, my hands folded tightly in my lap, my spine straight.
Someone spoke at the front of the church. I didn’t register the words, only the cadence. Another voice followed. Then another. They talked about Matt’s steadiness, Jenny’s warmth. About community and legacy.
I stared at the grain in the wooden pew ahead of me and focused on my breathing.
Lily sat beside me, her small body pressed against my arm. She hadn’t cried since we arrived. She hadn’t spoken either. Her fingers curled into the sleeve of my coat, gripping it with quiet determination, as if letting go might send her drifting.
Every so often, someone glanced at her and then at me.
Sympathy flickered in their eyes.
After the service, the town moved as one, reverent and heavy. A hand brushed my arm. Voices softened when they said lily’s name. People told me how strong I was, how lucky Walkers were to have me.
I didn’t correct them.
What would I say? That I wasn’t strong, far from it.
At the graveside, the wind picked up, biting through my coat. Lily shivered, and without thinking, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She leaned into me fully this time, her forehead resting against my side.
She stayed there as the caskets were lowered. As the minister spoke final words. As the first clods of earth hit wood with a sound I would never forget.
When it was over, people lingered. Grief made them reluctant to leave, as if staying proved something.
Lily tugged on my sleeve.
“Can we go now?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Of course.”
I didn’t wait for permission. I didn’t look back.
In the car, she climbed into the back seat and buckled herself with careful concentration. When I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, she met my eyes.
“You’re staying, right?” she asked.
It wasn’t framed like a question.
“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” I said.
She nodded once, satisfied, and leaned her head against the window.
Only then, alone in the driver’s seat, hands shaking against the steering wheel, did the pressure in my chest finally crack.
I didn’t sob, like I wanted to.
I just sat there and let a few tears fall, silently.
I knew that I couldn’t let my grief overwhelm me. I had responsibility.
And it didn’t matter that whether I was ready or not, Lily had put her trust in me and I could never disappoint her.