Graveminder

“Go on.” With the spoon, he motioned at Byron and then at the stairs. “I’ll look after her.”

William turned to Rebekkah and gestured to the table.

She sat, and he poured her a cup of coffee. Momentarily she could hear the shower upstairs. It felt comforting to be there, like being in a real home—as long as she didn’t think about the other part of the house where mourners were gathering around Maylene’s body.

William set down a plate he’d just filled with scrambled eggs and bacon. “If you want to see her, you can. I know you and Maylene had your traditions, though, so we can wait till the rest of them are gone.”

Rebekkah nodded. “Thank you. I’m not going to hide all day, but the ...” She felt the tears build up again. “I’ll be fine at the service. I’ll handle the funeral breakfast. I can do this.”

“I know you can,” William said. “Can I tell the ladies that they can get the meal set up at your house?”

Rebekkah paused. My house. It was still Maylene’s house. Calling it “hers” felt wrong, but arguing semantics wouldn’t help.

William looked at her expectantly.

“Sure,” she whispered. “That’s the right place to have it. I just ... They took care of everything already, didn’t they?”

“Everything but bringing it into the house. They are efficient,” William said. “They have to be with the short time between death and burial.”

His words weren’t cruel, nor was his tone, but it still made her chest tighten. “I just heard yesterday and then the flight and coming home and ...”

She heard herself, listened to the excuses pouring from her lips. The truth was that she didn’t want to see Maylene in her casket, still and lifeless, and she surely didn’t want to do it around other people.

“And there’s the jet lag,” William added. “No one will fault you for not being out there. Not many folks even know you’re home yet.”

“Thank you. For everything. You and Byron are both being so ... I’d be even more lost without you.” She offered him a smile, a watery one, but a smile nonetheless.

William smiled gently at her. “Montgomerys will always look after Barrows, Rebekkah. I would’ve done anything for Maylene, just as Byron would do anything for you.”

Rebekkah didn’t know what to say to that. She wondered if William thought she and Byron had stayed in touch. Really not what I want to ponder. She pushed that topic away and looked at the elder Mr. Montgomery’s tired eyes. The dark circles under them could be normal, for all she knew, but his red-shot eyes revealed that he’d been crying. He and Maylene had been friends forever, and they’d been in love almost as long.

Rebekkah realized that she was staring at him. “Are you ... doing okay?” she asked—and then immediately felt like an idiot. Of course he wasn’t doing “okay.” If anything happened to Byr— She shook her head as if it would erase that thought.

William patted Rebekkah’s hand and turned away to refill her coffee cup. “As well as you are, I imagine. The world is lot less worth being in without her here. Maylene has meant the world to me for a long time.” She heard the threat of tears in his voice as he said, “I need to go out front. You stay in here and eat. When they go, I’ll come fetch you, so you have a few private moments with her.”

At the thought of suddenly being alone, she blurted, “Do I need to do anything? I mean, are there papers or ... something? Anything?”

He turned back to face her. “No, not now. Maylene’s orders were very precise. She didn’t want you to have to deal with those things, so we made sure everything was taken care of in advance.” William brushed Rebekkah’s hair back as if she were still a small child. “Byron will be down in a few moments, and if you need him you are welcome to go upstairs. The house hasn’t changed. I’ll be out there with Maylene.”

“She’s not here,” Rebekkah whispered. “Just her empty shell.”

“I know, but I still need to look after her. She’s gone to a well-earned rest, Rebekkah. I promise.” He had tears in his eyes. “She was more amazing than most anyone we’ll ever meet. Strong. Good. Brave. And she saw all of those traits in you. You need to be brave now. Make her proud.”

Rebekkah nodded. “I will.”

Then William left her in his kitchen alone with her grief. Her first instinct was to find Byron.

Coward.

Being alone was wiser. She’d lived alone for years; she’d traveled alone. The problem was that it was easier to keep her grief at bay when she had witnesses. Maylene had taught her the importance of hiding the hard parts years ago: Don’t let the world see your soft underbelly, lovie , she’d reminded when the barbs of strangers and classmates had hurt . Part of being strong is knowing when to hide your weaknesses, and when to admit them. When it’s just us, you can cry. In front of the world, you keep that chin up.

“I’m strong. I remember,” Rebekkah whispered.

Byron hadn’t come down by the time she finished breakfast, so she walked through the door separating the private part of the house and the public space and joined the crowd of mourners, accepting their nods and hugs without a flinch as she approached Maylene’s body.

I know you’re gone. I know it’s not really you.

But the body still looked like her grandmother. The familiar keen gaze was absent; the smile was absent; but the form was still Maylene.

Rebekkah knew what she needed to say. The flask was in her bag, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of everyone. There were words, traditions that she’d observed with Maylene time and again. Soon.

Rebekkah leaned down to kiss Maylene’s cheek. “Sleep now, Grandmama,” she whispered. “Sleep well, and stay where I put you.”

Chapter 12

REBEKKAH WENT THROUGH THE MOTIONS, ACCEPTING CONDOLENCES AND listening to the reminiscences of strangers and of those vaguely familiar. She did so alone.

Byron had come down to the viewing area, now dressed in one of his dark suits. He and William both kept an eye on her, and she knew that at any time they would extricate her if she sent them a pleading glance. Instead, she gave Byron a small shake of her head when he started to approach her.

I am Maylene’s granddaughter, and I will do as we have always done. Together with her grandmother, she’d gone to innumerable viewings and funerals. She politely nodded and calmly accepted hugs and arm pats. I can do this. She was only there for the last hour of the wake, but it felt longer than any she could recall. Even Ella’s.

Thankfully, Cissy and her daughters had left just before Rebekkah had arrived. Overcome by grief , William had said with a stoic expression.

Then the viewing was over. William took charge of the mourners, and Byron came over to her side.

“Do you want a minute with her?” he asked.

“No. Not yet.” Rebekkah glanced over at him. “Later. At the gravesite.”

“Come on.” Byron deftly avoided several people who wanted to speak with her and led her back into his home.

“I could’ve stayed,” she murmured as he closed the door behind them.

“No one’s doubting you,” he assured her. “We have a few minutes before we go to the cemetery, and I thought you might want to catch a breath.”

She followed him into the kitchen. Her dishes still sat on the table. “Thank you. I know I keep saying it, but you really have been better to me than I deserve.”

To avoid looking at him, she busied herself rinsing her cup and plate.

“Our ... friendship didn’t die for me,” he said, “even when you decided to stop returning my calls. It never will.”