Sassafras, Part 55


Joan

“Come on, Babe, let’s get out of this rain before you catch pneumonia.” When we walked up to Billy Rick shook his hand. “How are you doing, Bill?” he asked.

“I’m okay. I’ll be glad when this is all over. Mom wouldn’t have liked any of this. She didn’t want anything fancy.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked him. “I could have planned something else.”

“It doesn’t matter, Aunt Jo. She’s never coming back.”

“Well, I didn’t know her very long, but I think Jenny would be proud of both of you,” Rick said. “I’ve seen enough families turn on each other at times like this, fighting and arguing over silverware and cars.”

“Well, it helps that Jenny didn’t have anything to argue over. If anybody wants her car they’re welcome to it. They can have her silverware, too.” People were pushing past us to get out of the rain. I still couldn’t believe how many people were there. It looked like it was going to be standing room only. “We might as well go inside now.”

When we walked in the chapel the funeral director walked us to the front row. It felt like everybody was staring at me, then I realized it wasn’t me, it was Rick they were looking at. “More of your fan club?” I whispered to him as we walked up the aisle.

“Guess so.” He looked down at the blue and green flannel shirt and faded jeans he was wearing, his work boots wet and muddy. “Maybe it would be better if I sat in back somewhere out of sight.”

“No.” I clutched his hand. I didn’t care what he was wearing, or that his jaw was covered with dark stubble, or that he smelled faintly like dog food. “Please.”

“Okay.” He squeezed my hand and slid into the pew next to me. Billy sat on my other side next to Katie. Thankfully, BJ sat on the far end, out of pinching range.

As far as funerals go, I suppose it was a success. If a funeral can be called a success. The preacher talked, someone from Jenny’s church sang a hymn, the preacher talked some more, someone else sang an even more depressing hymn, the preacher rambled on about Jesus. I kept wondering if someone sitting behind me was the person who killed Jenny. Had someone just made a terrible mistake and now they were so torn apart with guilt they would stand up and yell “I did it! I did it!” Or maybe someone killed her deliberately, out of jealousy or hate, and were pleased with themselves, sitting behind me trying not to smile because they thought they were getting away with it. They weren’t going to get away with it. I could feel in my bones that it hadn’t been an accident. The police were incompetent fools if they couldn’t see that.

I stared at Jenny’s casket until my eyes started blurring. For the first time I forgot about the questions I had about how she died and let the simple fact that she was gone fill my mind. I missed her so much I wanted to scream. Not cry. Crying would be too lady-like, too polite. I didn’t want to be polite. I wanted to scream loud, ear piercing, fingernails on a chalkboard screams. I wanted to cuss and throw things. But mostly I just wanted to scream. I wondered if I started screaming if I would ever be able to stop.

I noticed there were dark spots on my skirt. It took a while for me to realize they were water spots from the tears that were falling off my chin. When had I started crying? I didn’t want to cry. I felt like I had already cried enough since I got to Sassafras, but then I realized all those times I had been crying for myself. Greedy, selfish tears. This was the first time I was crying for Jenny, because I missed her and couldn’t imagine life going on without her, because I needed her advice and knew I would never be able to talk to her again. Rick handed me a box of tissues, but I just held it, not even aware what it was. Billy squeezed my hand, and I felt Rick put his arm around my shoulders.

“Don’t cry, Cousin Junebug,” Katie whispered loudly. “Cousin Jenny’s playing with the angels in heaven, just like my momma. You can hold my weenie if you want.” She held Puppy out to me and smiled. BJ wasn’t the only one who fought back laughter.

“Thanks, Katie.” I took Puppy from her and cradled him in my arms while Rick held me in his, stroking my hair and murmuring something soft and soothing. I don’t think I could have gotten through the funeral on my own.

When the service was finally over and they loaded Jenny in the hearse I noticed the rain had changed to sleet. Everything sparkled, covered in a shiny layer of ice. The cemetery was right in back of the funeral home, but most people just got in their cars and left. Only a handful of people drove to the gravesite. While we were all sitting on the cold metal folding chairs under a big white canopy the sleet changed to snow, big wet clumps that fell in slushy puddles.

It was hard saying goodbye to Rick back at the funeral home. I knew he had to go back to work, and I would see him again that night, but I didn’t want him to leave. I needed him, more than I ever thought possible. I stood in the parking lot watching him drive away, snow blowing against my face, until he was gone.