Sassafras, Part 60

Rick


By the time I got to the funeral home the parking lot was almost full. For a second I thought about just driving by and going back to work, but I sighed and pulled in anyway. Joan and Bill were standing at the front door talking to some people when I was looking for a parking spot. After I finally parked I sat in Tony’s car for a minute giving myself a pep talk. If I wanted to have a serious relationship with Joan sooner or later the whole town would know about it, but just showing up at Jenny’s funeral with her was like having it splashed across the front page of the paper. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t look like hell. God, my life was a mess. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. It felt like I was back in high school, a skinny little computer nerd, too shy to even talk to a girl, much less ask one out. If I could make it through four years of high school and seven years of prison I could make it through one funeral.

By the time I got out of the car Joan and Bill were sitting alone on a little bench. He saw me first and tapped Joan’s shoulder. She smiled the most beautiful smile in the world, then ran into my arms and hugged me. As soon as she put her arms around me and rested her cheek on my chest I felt like everything was going to be all right. It was the weirdest feeling, like all of a sudden everything fit together. Nothing was out of place, nothing was missing.

We stood talking in the rain for a minute. She was so glad to see me. I just hoped once we got inside with everybody else she wouldn’t change her mind. She didn’t know what it was like to have the whole town watching you like some kind of circus freak. We talked to Bill for a while then went inside. I thought about leaving my coat on. After all, it’s black. That would look better than the old flannel shirt I was wearing. In the end I took it off and hung it next to Joan’s coat. She was wearing that gray dress she wore the first time I saw her, her hair pulled back in a bun.

“I’m sorry I look like such a bum. I didn’t know I was going to come or I would have worn something better.”

“It’s okay, Rick. I’m just glad you came.”

The funeral director met us at the door to the chapel and walked us up the aisle. As soon as we walked in I could see people turning and staring at us. At me. Joan asked if they were from my fan club. I tried to get her to let me sit in the back somewhere out of sight, but she looked like she was about to cry when I suggested it, so I ended up sitting right in the front row next to her. She introduced me to her uncle and a couple of cousins who were also sitting in the front row.

I tried to pay attention to the service, but I couldn’t stop looking at Joan. I couldn’t believe she was with me. I’d never done anything to deserve someone like her. As a matter of fact, I had done several things that should have guaranteed she would never even look at me, but here I was, and there she was. She was holding my hand and staring up at the casket when I noticed she was crying. I handed her a box of tissues that was sitting on the end of the pew, but she just sat there holding it. I put my arm around her but she barely seemed to notice. When her cousin Katie gave Joan her stuffed animal I heard a sob come bubbling out of her, then the tears started falling in earnest.

“It’s okay, Babe. It’s okay. I’m right here.” I brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. She leaned against me, gripping the front of my shirt in her little hand and shaking. “I know, Babe. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” I don’t know how long I sat like that. Everything else faded away and all I could see was Joan. All I cared about was taking care of her, holding her, letting her cry as long as she needed. She was the only thing that was important.

Eventually the tears stopped. She looked up at me, tears still sparkling on her lashes. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, but that just smeared her makeup even more than her tears had done. I pulled a tissue out of the box and gently wiped her cheeks, trying to clean her up as much as I could. She sat still against my shoulder while I wiped her face, an occasional stray tear still escaping from her eyes. She watched me while I worked, a weary look on her face. “Do you need to get out of here?” I whispered. “We could go outside and get some air.”

She just shook her head. “No. I’m okay now.” She leaned back against me and sighed. “I just wish this was all over.”

Almost as if on cue the preacher finished speaking. Soft music started while the funeral director walked to the front of the chapel and told everybody after the burial there would be a gathering at Don’s. While he was talking his assistants wheeled Jenny’s casket to the open double doors. Joan, Bill, and I followed and watched them load the casket into the waiting hearse. Joan gave her cousin back the stuffed animal and hugged her, then hugged her uncle. That started another little fit of crying, but it only lasted a few minutes and then she pulled herself back together. I heard her uncle tell her they weren’t going to the gravesite; they would meet again at Don’s.

I rode to the gravesite with Joan and Bill in the funeral home’s car, a large black Lincoln, quiet and luxurious. It would have been easy to imagine we were going out on the town instead of creeping through a cemetery on the way to bury Joan’s sister. Except I looked more like I was on my way to milk a cow than go out on the town. We still had no idea what happened the night Jenny died. It was possible we would never know. Judging from Sneider’s actions, I could tell he was involved somehow, but whether he was the murderer or just an accomplice was hard to tell. It was even possible that he wasn’t involved at all. Maybe what I took for evidence of a guilty conscious was really just evidence that he was a lousy policeman, more worried about appearing competent than actually solving the case. That didn’t explain why he was so jumpy, the way he reacted to those camera chips. Somehow, he was involved.

The service at the gravesite was short and to the point. The weather had turned. Sleet already covered the headstones with a layer of ice and made wet tapping sounds on the awning above us. The wind was cold, rushing down the hill and past us like it was late for an appointment. Before the service was over I saw the first flakes drift by, large and white and wet.

There wasn’t any easy way to say goodbye to Joan after the service. I didn’t want to leave her. We said goodbye three times, but I still wasn’t any closer to leaving than when we stepped out of the Lincoln in back of the funeral home. She just felt too good, even bundled up in her long red coat. She was resting in my arms, the wind pulling a few strands of hair loose and snapping them against my cheek. It was snowing, and everything felt clean and frosty.

“Are you really off tomorrow and Tuesday?”

“Yes. I have to go see my parole officer Monday, but other than that I’m all yours. Anything you want.”

“Anything? Don’t forget, this is Sassafras. There isn’t much anything here.”

“Whatever it is. Anything you want. Look, I really have to go. I’m going to get in trouble if I don’t get back to work.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around my waist. “Are you still coming over tonight?”

“Nothing could keep me away. Not rain or snow or dark of night.”

“So, you’re going to be dropping off the mail?”

“I’ll make a special delivery.”

Before I left I had her start her car, just to make sure she was going to be okay. I didn’t want to leave her stranded. I was 45 minutes late getting back to work, but I didn’t care. It was worth it just to see the look on her face when she saw me. Paulson didn’t complain about me being late. As a matter of fact, he told me that one of the mixer operators was going to retire in a couple of months and Mr. Kennedy was thinking about having me take his place. It wouldn’t be much more money, but the benefits would be a lot better.