Chapter Two
This wasn’t my first military funeral, but I had been a kid then, and the death of someone my parents once knew hadn’t really struck a chord with me. Dad’s funeral slowly tore me apart with each tear I held back. Every time someone hugged me, or told me they were sorry, another piece of me shut down, like my maximum pain threshold had been reached.
Riley, my exquisite, perfect boyfriend of three years, drove down from vacationing at his family’s cabin in Breckenridge to be with me. I’m not sure I could really say he was with me, though. He’d been more with his cell phone the last few days, and wasn’t even here yet. I couldn’t really blame him. It’s not like I was a joy to be around. Since the notification last week, Christmas had passed with a whisper, the New Year was upon us, and Mom still hadn’t responded to . . . anything. Thankfully, Grams had shown up, all Southern-steel backbone and silver hair, and kept the wolves off the door. No one was threatening to medicate Mom. Yet.
The chapel on post filled quickly. People I recognized and countless soldiers I didn’t took their seats in hushed tones. We’d asked for this to serve as the unit’s memorial, too. I didn’t think any of us could have gone through this a second time. April sat surrounded by a gaggle of her friends, being comforted en masse as she cried, and a small stab of jealousy sliced through me. April was allowed to fall apart. That was a luxury I didn’t get to have, not anymore.
“Oh, Ember.” Sam, my best friend from high school, pulled me in for a hug at the back of the chapel while I waited for Gus. I sagged a little against her, willing to let her take some of the weight. “This sucks.”
She always knew just what to say.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, speaking honestly for the first time today.
“Where’s Riley?” The perfect café au lait skin of her forehead puckered as her eyebrows drew together.
I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Not sure, but he said he’s coming.”
Her furrows deepened, and I saw a flash run through her hazel eyes before she sighed. “Kayla? She’s still your roommate, right?”
“She’s in Boston with her parents, but she’s flying back to Boulder in the next few days.” I held my breath and waited for the typical sarcastic quip to come from Sam. There was no love lost between Kayla and Sam, and hadn’t been since Sam and I had grown apart last year. I’d gone off to Boulder and become roomies with Kayla, and Sam stayed to go to school here in Colorado Springs. I still loved the heck out of Sam, but it was hard to keep a friendship with such separate lives.
“Right.” Organ music started to play, and Sam squeezed my hands. “That’s my cue. Ember, whatever you need, I’m here.”
“I know you are.”
She gave me a weak smile and headed to sit with her mom, who’d been a really good friend of Dad’s. I guess that’s what happens when you spend years and two duty stations with someone.
“Ember?” I turned to see Mrs. Rose, whose husband had been killed in the attack with Dad. She looked put together in a simple black sheath and matching heels. Her hair was done, makeup perfect and unsmeared. Her two little boys, Carson and Lewis, were immaculately dressed in little black suits.
“Hi, Mrs. Rose. We’re glad you came,” I answered for my family. “How are you?”
Her hands grazed the shoulders of her boys, like she was assuring herself they were still there. “We’re getting by. Your mother?”
My face flushed. “She’s having a hard time.”
Mrs. Rose nodded. “We all grieve in different ways. She’ll come around.” She smiled at her boys. “Let’s find our seats.”
They headed down the aisle, and something dark stole into me, raising my temperature. How could she be okay? How was she so perfectly poised when my mother couldn’t hold it together? The unfairness of everything weighed on me. I wanted Mom to pull herself together like Mrs. Rose had.
My cell phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message.
Riley: On my way, but running late.
Ember: See you soon.
I slid my iPhone back into my purse as Gus emerged from the bathroom. His suit made him appear older than he really was, another thief stealing his childhood away. He fumbled with the long ends of his tie, which must’ve come undone while he was in there. Gus only had two ties, both of which my dad had tied before he left for deployment. The knots would slide up and down as we took them on and off Gus’s head for church, but we were always careful not to untie them. None of us girls in the house knew how to tie a tie. We’d never given it much thought.
“I didn’t mean to do it.” His eyes welled up with tears, siphoning my own. I forced a smile to my face, which became just a little easier each time I had to do it.
“It’s not a problem, little buddy.” I gently wiped away his tears and fixed my concentration on figuring out his tie. A wave of grief overtook me. This was Dad’s job. He was supposed to teach Gus how to tie a tie, drive a car, flirt with a girl. How was Gus going to grow up without Dad’s example? Sure, my father would never walk me down the aisle, never hold my firstborn child, or the second, for that matter. But I’d had him for twenty years while I had grown to quasi-womanhood. Dad was etched into the very fabric of my being. It wasn’t fair that his son only got him for seven years.
My fingers fumbled with the tie, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work. A pair of large hands reached in between us, and I looked over. Shock almost knocked me on my butt at seeing Josh Walker crouched next to me. A sad smile came to his face.
“Hey, Gus, can I get that for you?”
“Hey, Coach Walker. Sure.”
Coach? Right, Gus had told me, but I hadn’t put it together. The Josh Walker I remembered wouldn’t take the time to coach anyone, let alone a hyper group of kids. What had changed him so much in four years?
Gus turned his beautiful smile on me, and I almost hugged Josh for inspiring it. “Ember, this is my hockey coach.”
“We’ve met, Gus.” I ruffled his hair and stood up slowly, careful to keep my balance on my heels.
“I went to high school with your sister, little man.” Josh made quick work of Gus’s tie, deftly looping it around, pulling it through until it resembled my dad’s own knot. A surge of gratitude ripped through me. Josh had saved Gus’s day.
We took our seats when the chaplain directed. Gus sat next to me, then Mom, Grams, and April. One by one, the speakers came up, giving their best memories of Dad. He had saved so many lives, given so much of himself to those who needed it. He had never failed to inspire me. Well, inspire me in everything but his death. He’d been killed senselessly, helping other people. What was the point, the justice in that? Hysterical laughter bubbled up through my lips, and Grams reached her hand around Mom to steady my shoulder. What, like I was going to figure out the meaning of death and life while sitting here? Preposterous. No one understood the meaning behind war. It was hilarious to think the answer would be bestowed upon me simply because I lost someone I loved. My psych professor would have had a field day with me at that moment.
Midway through the service, a familiar hand squeezed my shoulder, this time from behind. Riley had finally arrived. Rather than feeling comforted, I was annoyed and angry. For someone who professed to love me, I certainly wasn’t high on his list of priorities today of all freaking days. No doubt he had a perfect excuse though, some cat caught in a tree, or a stranded stranger with a flat tire.
An officer stood at the podium and began the traditional roll call. Oh God, here we go. As he called out the names of soldiers present, they stood in the congregation announcing their presence. All around me, figures in blue popped up like jack-in-the-boxes, alive and well. I thought I was ready to hear it. After all, I knew it was coming. Our CAO had walked us through this many times. They would call my father’s name, but he wouldn’t answer.
That was the whole point.
“Lieutenant Colonel Howard?” The officer’s voice echoed from the silent church. Every muscle in my body tensed and my teeth ground together. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin Howard?” April’s keen wail split the silence and tears burned their way down my cheeks. I couldn’t so much as raise my hands to wipe them away. God, just stop calling his name. Please. But he didn’t. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin A. Howard?” One more time. I just had to make it one more time.
“Why do they keep calling Daddy’s name?” Gus asked.
To prove he’s really gone.
I couldn’t answer him; my vocal cords were paralyzed from fear of what would finally erupt when I spoke. I pulled him closer. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin August Howard?” I knew more was said, but I didn’t hear it. Instead, I was back in my memory, watching Dad kneel down so four-year-old Gus could help pin Lieutenant Colonel rank on his shoulders. We’d all been so happy and proud. I guess we were also supposed to be proud today, knowing he’d given his life for something so much bigger than himself. What people didn’t understand was there was nothing bigger than my dad in my eyes, nothing worth the cost of his life.
Bagpipes belted out “Amazing Grace.” Beside me, my mother finally spoke, whispering my father’s name in a broken plea. “Justin?”
I forced my teeth into my lower lip to keep from crying out, slicing into the soft flesh until the pain I caused could stand against the grief tearing through me.
Once the service was over, I felt like congratulating myself for surviving it, but I still had to make it through the burial. We walked down the aisle behind the chaplain, exiting the service through the main door, where a black limousine waited. Grams pulled my mother inside. April followed soon after with her boyfriend, Brett. I waited outside with Gus, knowing Riley would want to come with us.
He came down the steps slowly, dressed impeccably in a suit his mother had picked out, no doubt. His blond hair was parted to the side, and his blue eyes stood out against the black of the suit. Another spurt of hysterical laughter nearly took me. Riley was a living Ken doll. He pulled me into his familiar arms, wrapping me in the scent of the cologne he’d worn since our senior year. He pulled back to kiss me, and his eyes flared. “Uh, babe?” He recoiled, like he was disgusted.
Josh appeared next to me, setting Gus down after a hug. He pulled out a Kleenex and dabbed at the area just beneath my lip. The tissue came away red, stained with the blood I had drawn with my teeth. He gave me a weak smile and backed away quickly, as though he knew he had overstepped a boundary. Whoa. I ran my tongue across my lip and felt the area I’d abused.
Riley rolled his eyes before he realized who it was. “Josh Walker!” He held out his hand, and Josh shook it. “It’s been a long time, man. You’re coaching my little brother and Gus now, right?”
Josh nodded. “Rory’s a great kid. I’ll catch you later, Gus.”
Gus grabbed onto my hand and tugged. “Can Coach Walker come with us, please?”
Riley answered before I could. “Gus, the limo is only for family.”
Gus smirked. “Well, you’re not family. Besides, if April and Ember get to bring someone, I can, too.”
I couldn’t argue with Gus’s logic. “You’re welcome to join us,” I said to Josh, avoiding his eyes.
The limo ride was the most awkward twenty minutes I’d ever spent in a car. On my left, Riley updated his Facebook status. What could he be typing? Heading to bury girlfriend’s dad? He didn’t handle stress well, and I didn’t hold it against him. It was simply one of the aspects of his personality that I understood, that I tried my best to complement. After all, that was part of our plan, why we went so well together. I filled in his gaps. “Ah, man,” he whispered.
“What is it?” I asked.
He shook his head, scrolling through his phone. “They moved our formal a week earlier.”
I didn’t bother responding. He wasn’t looking for my input anyway. Grams sat stoically, her silver hair pulled into a French twist, her single strand of pearls immaculately appropriate. She’d always had an air of dignity about her, but the way she held herself together in the wake of her son’s death was awe-inspiring. Her hands clutched the small picture frame of Dad’s basic training she had rested on her knees.
“What’s on your mind?” Josh asked, sitting on my right. His phone was out, too; he’d given it to Gus, who was currently destroying small pigs in the Star Wars version of Angry Birds.
I subtly gestured to my grandmother with my head. “My grandfather died in Vietnam.” I shook my head. “She’s already been through so much; this hardly seems fair.”
He was quiet for a minute, as though he was carefully choosing his words. “As hard as this must be for her, maybe she’s really the only one who can help your mom through this. After all, she’s been there.”
I watched the way Grams reached out to hold my mom’s hand, stroking her skin with her thumb. Josh was right. If anyone was going to pull her back from this precipice she was standing on, it would be Grams. They were equally stubborn women, equally strong, equally capable. “She’s going to be okay, eventually.”
“So are you.” He squeezed my hand gently before quickly pulling it away, careful not to brush the skin of my knee just below my hem.
Riley slipped his phone back into his pocket as we arrived at the cemetery. We stepped from the car and crossed the frozen ground to the plot my father had chosen. At the time, I had thought it was a morbid thing to do, choosing his own funeral plot. Now, I was thankful. It was one more choice I didn’t have to make, and I knew he’d be happy. As we took our seats in the front row, facing my father’s casket, people walked by. They shook our hands. They leaned down to hug us. They were sorry for our loss. They couldn’t fathom our grief. They wanted to know what they could do. I said thank you so many times that it no longer sounded like a word. Selfishly, I just wanted them to stop touching me.
Riley took the seat behind me, keeping his hand on my shoulder, anchoring me as he’d done these last few years. He was my reminder that I would get through this; things would return to normal and our plans wouldn’t change. Well, whatever “new normal” was waiting for me.
“Can you make them stop hugging me?” Gus asked, reaching for my hand. I kissed his soft forehead.
“Sure thing, buddy.” I ran interference for Gus until everyone finally took their seats. Again, the chaplain began to speak about duty and sacrifice. I fought the urge to stand up on my chair and stomp my foot, reminding myself that I was no longer a petulant teenager. What did they know of duty? My father’s duty was here, at home. Now someone else had to step into his shoes, figure out what we were supposed to do from here. It wasn’t fair.
The American flag draped Dad’s silver coffin. I wanted to see him, to verify with my own eyes that he was really dead. But when his remains arrived from Dover, they came with a cutting little note attached: “These remains are not recommended for viewing.” When I got Captain Wilson alone and was able to ask the question, he danced around it until I finally got my answer. Dad was shot in the head, chest, and leg. The a*shole had been so thorough there wasn’t enough of Dad’s face left to see.
The small, childlike part of me wondered if he was really in there, or if there had been some drama-worthy mix-up. Maybe the poor soul in this coffin belonged to another family, and my dad was lying somewhere wounded, unable to tell his real name. But I wasn’t Gus. I knew the truth: we were burying my father.
The flag slid from the coffin into the arms of the waiting honor guard. They snapped the flag tight with military precision. That flag had been with him from the hospital in Afghanistan where he was pronounced dead, through Dover where they prepared his body and tailored his uniform, to here in Colorado where we would bury him.
The guns rang out, killing the silence and jolting my heart. The honor guard fired three volleys, each time freezing me until I died just a little bit more. Three volleys for the guns. Three bullets in my father. It was poetic really. Gus began to cry horrible wrenching sobs. I reached for him as the honor guard folded the final corner of the flag into the triangle. Josh leaned forward and pulled Gus over the chair, into his lap, and rocked him like a baby. I nodded my thanks. Across the empty chair I reached for April. She clasped my hand in a death grip as cold as her frozen fingers. We’d forgotten gloves.
A colonel dropped on one knee in front of Mom, grasping the folded flag. She raised her head and brought her chin up, showing a shadow of the spirit I knew she had. “On behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation,” he said reverently as he handed the flag to my mother’s shaking hands. She crossed her arms in front of the flag and pulled it to her chest, lowering her face into the folds as if she could catch Dad’s scent on the fabric. Then she began to keen, a low, ugly sound, like her soul had been dismembered.
I held it together until the bugler began to play “Taps.” Day is done, gone the sun. So often I’d heard it around the military bases where we’d been stationed. There was something familiar, cleansing about hearing it played, as though the song itself was saying this awful event was over. This was the worst, the lowest we would ever be. God is nigh.
Grams shook with grief on the other side of my mother. Now she had truly given all she had for this country. She wrapped her arm around Mom, drawing her to her shoulder; they had each lost the person they loved most.
As everyone left the burial, my family piled into the limo, but I couldn’t leave, not yet. The honor guard handed Riley a stack of folded flags, one each for Grams, April, Gus, and myself. Like we needed a memento. War was such a spiteful bitch; she took everything we loved and handed us back a folded flag in return, telling us the honor of their sacrifice was a just and equal payment. It wasn’t.
One of Dad’s five deployments had begun shortly after Gus was born. In the middle of the night, I had watched Dad pack his bags as Mom rocked the crying Gus to sleep. Even at thirteen, I didn’t mind being pulled into my dad’s lap. He’d cradled my gangly frame and kissed my forehead in the way only fathers can do. “I need you to take care of your mom while I’m gone,” he’d requested. “Take it easy on her; this will be tough, and I need you to be my girl of the house. Can you do that for me? Can you take care of your mom, and April, and Gus?” Of course I had agreed. I would have done anything to please my father, as I knew he would have done for me. Anything but stay.
As they lowered his coffin into the icy ground, I raced forward. “Stop!” The cemetery workers froze, leaving Dad only inches above the surface. I stumbled forward, my heels catching on what was left of the grass. My knees landed in front of the cold metal that marked the entrance to my father’s grave. I placed my right hand on the chilled exterior of the coffin and stifled my cry with my left. “I love you,” the whisper broke from me. “I miss you, and I don’t know what to do without you,” I cried. I dragged the frost-bitten air through my lungs. “But don’t you worry about them, not Grams, or Mom, April, or Gus. I will take care of them, I promise.”
Riley’s familiar arms surrounded me, lifting me off the ground until I was standing. I gave a small nod to the cemetery workers. They began lowering my father again, deeper and deeper into the ground. “I promise.”