Smiling, Cordie said, “I also remember telling you that I would explain what the surprise was after the funeral. Today is about his life. Tonight I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Still fishing for a hint, Sophie said, “It must be a big deal. Otherwise you would have told us. You tell us everything.”
Both Regan and Cordie laughed. “That’s you,” Regan said. “Of the three of us, you’re the one who can’t keep a secret.”
The friends fell silent as the somber procession turned off the main thoroughfare and made its way through the streets of run-down apartments and dilapidated houses toward St. Matthew’s.
“When we get to the church . . . ,” Cordie began, and then hesitated.
“Yes?” Sophie asked.
“Eight of the students my father worked with are going to be the pallbearers. They had a special place in his heart, but I want you to know they can be a little territorial with one another.”
“What does that mean?” Sophie asked.
“They’re at-risk kids,” Regan answered.
“Some are,” Cordie agreed. “There might be some pushing and shoving. You know, boy stuff. Nothing to worry about,” she assured them.
“Do you think many students will attend?” Sophie asked.
“No,” Cordie answered. “It’s a Saturday. They’re kids. The last place they want to be is in church. I don’t expect—” She stopped abruptly. The limousine had just turned onto Grant Street, and there in front of the church, filling the sidewalk from corner to corner and spilling out into the street, were the students of St. Matthew’s High School. It looked as though most of the student body had turned out, and all the boys wore their school uniforms: khaki pants, white shirt, and navy blazer with the school emblem on the pocket. The boys were waiting quietly, their expressions solemn. Each class stood together, with the seniors in front. The second the limousine driver turned the motor off, two students stepped forward to open the door. The taller boy pushed the other aside to get to the handle. A transfer student named Victor won the push and shove. One of Cordie’s favorite students, he was a math whiz but thus far hadn’t developed a lick of sense. He opened the door, grasped her hand, and yanked her out. Her feet actually left the ground, but fortunately she landed feetfirst on the sidewalk. Sophie and Regan were given assistance as well. It didn’t matter if they wanted help or not. Both were hauled out and deposited next to Cordie.
Alec and Jack were waiting on the church steps. When they saw the crowd engulf the women, they rushed down and pushed their way through the teen mob.
“That guy has a gun,” one student whispered loud enough for Cordie to hear.
Before she could explain who they were, another student said, “Both of them have guns.”
“How come they get to bring guns into the church?”
Cordie whirled around. “They don’t get to,” she said. “They’re FBI agents. It’s their job to carry guns. They also have badges.”
“Why is the FBI here?” another student asked in a loud whisper. Cordie didn’t recognize the voice, but his tone was hostile. “We didn’t do anything, and I’m not going anywhere without a warrant.”
Cordie explained before more of them could get riled up. “They’re my friends,” she said. “And they were my father’s friends, too.” She handed Regan her cardigan and her purse and said, “You and Sophie go inside now. The pallbearers will sit in the front row, so sit behind them.”
Sophie nudged Regan. “Let’s go.”
Jack and Alec didn’t follow their wives. They stood where they were, watching the crowd of restless boys. Several teachers were trying to get the students to go inside, but none of them would obey. In fact, they squeezed closer to Cordie until they all but swallowed her up like a swarm of bees around a hive. Jack and Alec immediately went into defensive mode, but Cordie raised her hand to let them know she wasn’t in danger. Alec hesitated at first, then, realizing the boys’ behavior was protective, not threatening, he motioned to Jack, and the two stepped aside.
Aiden and Spencer arrived and, spotting Alec and Jack, made their way around the throng. Aiden looked in all directions and asked, “Where’s Cordelia?”
“In the middle of the crowd,” Alec said.
“I don’t see her,” Aiden said, frowning.
“How is she doing?” Spencer asked.
“Remarkably well,” Alec answered.
The muttering from the boys got louder, and then suddenly the mood changed. As though a signal had been given, the pushing and nudging and shoving stopped. The boys straightened to their full heights and stood silent. Parting to allow Cordie to get to the front, they watched the coffin being removed from the hearse. Two men from the funeral home placed the coffin on a rolling gurney, then covered it with a white linen cloth that nearly reached the ground. After carefully placing a long spray of deep-red roses on the coffin, the men began to push the gurney up the gentle incline to the church entrance, where Father Patrick Anthony waited with an altar boy who held a gold crucifix that was considerably taller than he was.
Jerome Smith, the senior class president and her father’s constant shadow when he was at school, stepped forward. “Now?” he asked Cordie.
“Yes,” she answered.
Seven young men separated from the others and followed Jerome up the steps. They quickly moved to flank each side of the coffin, a couple of them noticeably fighting back tears.
With slow, measured steps, the priest led the silent procession down the main aisle of the church. Cordie walked behind the coffin and was followed by the students of St. Matthew’s. The side pews were already filled with mourners, and by the time the boys filed into the pews behind her, the church was packed.
Cordie sat on the end and left room for Jack and Alec to join their wives. As the priest turned to face the mourners and the organist began to play the first hymn, she glanced around at the congregation, and that was when she saw him. Aiden, followed by Spencer, was taking a seat several rows back on the other side of the church. A rush of emotions swept over her. She was happy he was here yet angry at herself for the old feelings that surfaced at the very sight of him. He glanced in her direction, and for a split second their eyes met. He gave her a sympathetic smile, and she smiled in return. The old Cordie would have wanted him sitting next to her, holding her hand, but no longer. Things were different now. She was different now. With renewed resolve she turned around, sat up straight, and focused on the ceremony.
It was a beautiful Mass, and the priest’s remarks about her father were heartfelt and quite lovely. At least a dozen people had offered to give eulogies, but if all of them had been allowed to speak, the funeral would have lasted hours, so it was decided that three of her father’s closest friends would talk. Their speeches were short—no more than a few minutes each—and focused on what a kind and loyal friend Andrew Kane had been. As the last man was finishing his remarks, Cordie heard a rustling behind her. At first she thought the students were just getting restless, but then she noticed several of them nudging one of the boys and urging him to stand up. He was a sophomore and a transfer from Truman High School. She hadn’t had him in class, but based on the number of times he’d served detention, she knew he was one of those kids who liked to skate on the edge.