Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
CALDER
We’re all at the funeral home, having taken separate vehicles.
Extracting myself from Meredith’s bed in the wee hours after she fell asleep was too damn hard, and a sign I did the right thing by returning to the couch.
Since then, we’ve been like ships all morning, passing each other but too far away to communicate.
Doesn’t help that she’s avoiding my gaze and I can’t get a second alone with her.
When I got up from my sleepless night, I made breakfast burritos. Enough for everyone. Carlos acted like I split the atom. He ate every bite before telling me he’d already had breakfast. I had to smack Bowen away from the last three so there’d be enough for Meredith.
By the time I returned from chores, Meredith was gone, along with the burritos. Bowen and I somberly got cleaned up and dressed in our respective suits.
I tug on the sleeve of my suit coat. On my shirt, I’m wearing the horseshoe cuff links Mama gave me for my eighteenth birthday.
I saved them for special occasions, which meant I hadn’t worn them until now.
Today isn’t special, but it is significant.
Seems fitting, having a little bit of Mama with me during a shit day like this. But damn, I miss my jeans and boots.
The family room in the funeral home hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here.
James built the place to seat more than Scandal’s small churches could.
The town has four churches but only one place like this, and he said once it never felt right to have people standing outside or going downstairs during the services.
The furniture has been upgraded to a sleek, modern style that can’t be stained by tears.
A few throw pillows in the grays Holly Winslow seemed to favor are strewn across it.
I’m standing by the door. Meredith’s on the couch with Sawyer, and they’re murmuring to each other.
Her hair is unbound. The dark cloud drapes around her shoulders and frames her face, giving her a shy air.
She could tip her head and hide behind that satiny curtain.
Like Sawyer, she’s paired her dress with freshly polished cowboy boots—the ones I saw in her room.
I finally catch her eye and gave her a “how you doing?” look. Her smile is wan and tears right through my heart. Yeah. Stupid question. I had twenty years between the funerals of my parents. She’ll have a half hour between her loved ones.
Bowen discusses the schedule for today with James on the other side of the door.
“I don’t know,” Bowen’s saying, giving his suit coat sleeves a pull. For a second, I catch a glimpse of his horseshoe cuff links. We each got a set. “We might as well start on time.”
They must be talking about Landry. Where the hell my youngest brother is, none of us knows. I’ve written him off by now.
The women stand. They were listening too, and apparently, they agree.
“I’ll plan to start on time.” James looks at each of us like he’s waiting for any rebuttals. There are none. “Okay. I’m going to head on out and make sure everything’s in place. You have a few more minutes if you need it.”
Bowen’s phone buzzes, and he veers out of the room to answer it. He doesn’t look back. It must be his work, not our youngest brother.
Meredith and Sawyer exchange glances and start for the door.
I catch Meredith’s hand, and she stays behind.
Her hazel gaze searches mine, the crests of her cheeks dusted with pink.
If she’s embarrassed or ashamed of what we did, she doesn’t look away.
Does that mean she’s okay with it? Or, like me, just can’t think about it? There’s too much to do.
So why did I stop her?
“Did you get breakfast?”
She nods. “Thank you.”
“Good.” What else is there to say? This sucks. Thanks for last night, but I still couldn’t get to sleep.
Sawyer pops her head in. “It’s almost time.” She frowns when she sees how close I’m standing to her friend.
“On time is late.” Bowen appears at her side, and she turns her scowl to him. He acts like he doesn’t notice, but he gauges the distance between me and Meredith. He put an extra step between me and her. Today’s for the funeral, not drama. He shakes his head and steps back to let the girls go first.
They walk shoulder to shoulder in front of me and Bowen. My fingers twitch to catch Meredith’s hand again, but Sawyer’s claimed one, and Meredith grips her fingers in return. Probably for the best. We don’t want to add to today’s chatter.
We enter the room where the service will be held.
People fill the four short columns of bench seats.
The first two rows are reserved for family.
Carlos is already in one pew, with his wife, Esme, beside him, her dark hair pulled back in a bun.
Bea is across the aisle in the other row, and Molly and Brenner are beside her.
She waves the girls to empty spaces closest to the aisle.
A pit opens in my gut. Meredith and I will be in different pews, but at least she’ll be with those closest to her.
Bowen nods at various people in the crowd. Most everyone has already been by the brewery. The past couple of nights have been a damn spectacle but lucrative. At least that’ll help mitigate being closed for a night.
I table any Jules Creek and Crossroads Ranch thoughts and keep my gaze off the front and the ornate wooden coffin surrounded by flowers I didn’t order. As requested, Holly’s casket is somewhere else, waiting her turn.
My stomach churns and roils. This isn’t what Dad wanted.
I thought it was what my brothers and I needed.
Now I’m not sure if I needed it at all. I just had to be home.
Bowen and Landry are different. They took the estrangement the hardest because they had me to worry about their survival and well-being.
They wouldn’t have answered Dad’s initial attempts to call if I hadn’t told them to just see where it would go.
We were all older and more stable. We controlled our homes and our businesses.
So I answered. Because after all that happened, it was nice to know someone out there worried about me.
Bowen and I take our seats next to Carlos. Esme reaches over her husband to squeeze Bowen’s hand, then mine. I’ve missed her too. I should’ve stopped in to see her before now.
More people filter in under the wire, and the murmurs filling the air grow louder. I’m about to turn around to see what’s wrong when a tall form appears at my side. Who’s choosing now to give me their condolences?
I look up. Landry lifts a dark brow, ignoring the swell of chatter.
I nearly bark out a laugh. Of course he’d show up at the last second.
He used to make us late for school, for church, and for my first date with my first girlfriend Jenni Lynn when I was sixteen.
Ever the model, his hair is longer and expertly slicked back, making him look like an arrogant aristocrat.
Maturity lines his features. Not quite like looking in a mirror, but close enough.
He’s dressed like me and Bowen—only, his suit is pewter gray, and his shirt is the lightest shade of pink.
I can’t see his cuff links, but I know he’s wearing them. They’re one of those things that unites us, like our last name. Mama was so damn happy to gift them to each of us. The last time all three of us wore them was at her funeral.
Carlos lets out a delighted harrumph.
Landry nods at him, his features softening when he greets Esme, and then he lifts his chin to me and Bowen. “Make room.”
“Hi to you too,” Bowen mutters.
“About time, asshole,” I say only loud enough for him to hear. I slide to my right. Meredith may be across the aisle, but I’m not willing to move farther away from her.
“I’m on time.” He wedges himself between Bowen and Carlos, probably so Carlos won’t have to bodysurf to give him the backslap-hug Bowen and I got.
“Did you just roll in?” Bowen asks quietly.
Landry doesn’t look at us. “Pretty much.”
This close, the slight bloodshot tint of his eyes is visible. He may have just driven into Scandal, but he probably flew in last night. He either partied through the evening or stayed up too long. Half the time, whenever I call him, he’s with a woman, so he likely wasn’t alone last night.
James’s brows lift, but he gives an approving nod. As soon as Landry’s planted his ass in the seat, he launches into the greeting. Nice things are said about Dad, along with a few anecdotes. James adds some levity, and my appreciation for him grows.
When the service is done, the family is supposed to filter outside so people who aren’t staying for Holly’s service can shake our hands.
I don’t care, but I don’t argue on this.
I rise and stand back to usher out Meredith and the rest of her row.
Tears track down Sawyer’s cheeks. Meredith’s expression is raw, but her eyes are dry.
Outside, I can’t concentrate on the people streaming by me. I shake hands, say the right things, and thank them for coming. The girls get a ton of hugs, but I’m the one who wants my arms around Meredith.
I can’t let last night cloud my thinking. The funeral is why I’m home. I’ve always been about what needs to be done, and it’s not Meredith.
A man in a black suit and an even darker cowboy hat stops in front of me. “Sorry about Ransom.” He grabs my hand in a firm shake. “I’m Dorian Crenshaw, with Pedigree Oil.”
No wonder I don’t know him. Our land didn’t fall on Pedigree’s radar, so they ignored us as much as my dad ignored them.
I’m just as uninterested. “Thanks.”
He pauses for a moment, his dark gaze skipping from me to Bowen, then Landry. “Never got to know Ransom that well.”
Well, now he won’t.
Bowen’s expression is almost quizzical. He was always the most expressive of us.
Gordon Miller, another neighbor, crowds behind Dorian. His cowboy hat is beige, and the cut of his suit is all Western. “Calder. Welcome home. Wish it was for a different reason.”
I never disliked Gordy. In the mix of neighbors, he floats higher than Gil, but I always got the sense that if things weren’t as acrimonious with the Sterlings, we would’ve had a grudge with him.
“Nice to see you again,” I say on autopilot like I’ve been doing since this line formed.
“You boys need anything, just call.” Gordy shakes my brothers’ hands, crowding out the oil company guy. Then he slaps Dorian on the back, and they walk away together.
If I didn’t know the Millers had wells on their land, I’d have figured it out from that.
Both an eternity and a blink pass when James appears at the door. It’s time for Holly Winslow’s funeral.
Meredith catches her breath. Sawyer fails at biting back a sob. Holding hands, they go inside. Meredith doesn’t look at me as she passes. My fingers brush against the fingers of her free hand, but she doesn’t reach back.
Bowen claps me on the back. “That’s it for us. We can catch up with Landry before the graveside service.”
I’m supposed to leave. That’s the plan, but my feet don’t move.
Inside, I see Finn and Duncan standing at the end of a pew, chatting with Cheryl from the church.
Beth Sterling got her dad out of town to keep the peace today, and two of her brothers not only showed up, but are also staying to support Meredith and Sawyer.
Those assholes. Everything growing up was a competition for them—who could get the best grades, score the most touchdowns, make the most home runs, get out of the deepest mud pits—and now they’re in there being the bigger person?
They’re in there with Meredith on the hardest day of her life.
I flash to a time when I felt so damn alone. To when I felt out-of-control and hopeless. When a future I didn’t plan loomed in front of me, a foreshadowing for what was to come only months later. The emotions from a different funeral, my mom’s funeral, bombard me.
“I… can’t leave.”
Bowen cocks his head, his eyes narrowing. “You’re actually going to stay?”
As if he senses the drama about to start, Landry completes the circle of three, closing out prying eyes. “Who the hell is staying?”
“We are,” I reply quietly.
“Why would we want to do that?” Landry challenges, forever the stubborn youngest kid.
“It’s the right thing to do.” So don’t make a goddamn scene.
Bowen lets out a cynical laugh. “Is it the right thing because you’re fuck—”
“Don’t,” I growl.
“Don’t what?” He’s whisper-yelling now. “Sneak up to her room? Whatever you put over her mouth last night didn’t work.”
Landry screws his perfect face up. “You and Meredith?”
I don’t need Landry to know about last night. “I’m not leaving her to do this alone—”
“She has Sawyer,” Bowen hisses.
“—and if only I go in there, imagine what people will say. These funerals have already been the focus around town, and people don’t like that we held them separately.
” The comments at the brewery were both prying and chiding.
“People look up to us. We let them down with the funeral arrangement, and news of the sales, when it gets out, is going to piss them off.” And something about all that’s sitting wrong with me.
“No matter what we think of Holly, that’s Meredith’s sister, the woman who raised her, and she just lost her. We all know how that feels.”
Each of my brothers’ jaws could cut glass. They exchange a look that speaks volumes, none of it meant for me to hear. When they return to facing me, their answer is clear.