Rebekkah gently extricated herself. “You go ahead. I need a minute.”
The reverend came up and gave Penelope a questioning look that Rebekkah pretended not to notice. Penelope shook her head once.
Sheriff McInney said, “There’s nothing we can do here, and Evelyn could probably use our help. Come on, Reverend.” He glanced at Penelope. “Lady P.”
Penelope embraced Rebekkah quickly and whispered, “Byron is a good man, Rebekkah. You can trust him ... and yourself.” Then she stepped away. With an implacable smile, she turned to the reverend. “Did Cecilia get escorted out peacefully? That detail was unclear.”
“Of course. Thank you for the warning,” Reverend McLendon murmured.
Then the three of them went inside. The porch door closed with a small snap, and Byron and Rebekkah were left alone on the porch.
Byron started, “About what I said to Chris—”
“No. I can’t. Not right now. I can’t hear anything else today.” She shook her head. “Please?”
Byron put his arm around her shoulder as they watched the EMTs load the stretcher into the ambulance. The child’s mother and the rabbi climbed in after them.
Rebekkah leaned against Byron.
The rabbi leaned out and said something to Father Ness and William; then the doors closed on them. Father Ness kept his back to the house as the ambulance left the drive, and William walked over to where they stood on the porch. He cradled his arm awkwardly, but said nothing for a moment. He looked weary and suddenly far older than he had that morning, but he gave her a warm smile. “Maylene would’ve been proud at the way you’re handling yourself, Rebekkah. You’re stronger than you realize.”
“I don’t feel very strong, but I’m glad it looks like that at least.”
“Mae knew strong, and I’ve never had reason to doubt her where you were concerned ... either of you.” William glanced at Byron for a moment, and then pulled a thick envelope out of his jacket pocket and held it out to Rebekkah. “She wanted me to give you this.”
She accepted the envelope. “Thank you.”
He nodded, and then looked to the side as Father Ness came over to the porch. The priest stopped on the bottom step. “There are limits to what we can forestall, William. The council will step in soon.”
“I know.” William’s face was drawn and pained; his posture was tense. “I’m handling it.”
Rebekkah and Byron exchanged a confused look, but before they could ask any questions, William told Byron, “We need to talk about some things. I need you to come with me now.”
“
“I’m okay,” she assured them both. She stepped forward, leaned up, and kissed William on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
“Maylene was right about you, Rebekkah: you’ve grown into a fine woman. Byron is lucky to have you.” William pulled her into a firm embrace. “It’ll get easier. I promise.”
He pulled back and stared at her silently, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she and Byron weren’t ... whatever he thought they were. All she said was, “Thank you.”
She turned to Byron. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then she fled into her house before she had to think about William’s words or the look of hope that came over Byron’s face when she said she’d see him tomorrow.
Chapter 18
SILENTLY, BYRON FOLLOWED HIS FATHER. WILLIAM HADN’T BEEN WILLing to talk at Rebekkah’s house, and Byron hadn’t felt much like arguing, so he accompanied his father to the funeral home in silence. They didn’t stop in the part of the house that was their home; instead, William proceeded to the door that separated the living quarters from the funeral home. He winced as he opened the door.
“Are you okay?” Byron reached out, but his father dodged him.
William called out, “Elaine, we’ll be in the basement. There are memos on your desk.”
Elaine poked her head out of her office. “Most of them are already done.”
“Of course they are.” William paused for a moment and gave his office manager a smile. “Thank you ... for everything.”
“The package you ordered came in earlier. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good.” William nodded once before resuming his steps. He paused at the door of his office, pulled out a key, and locked the door. Instead of pocketing his keys, he held them out to Byron. “Put these in your pocket for me.”
“Why?” Byron took the keys and held them in his hand.
His father ignored his question. “Come on.”
Byron stood in the hallway. The list of things that didn’t make sense grew longer every day, but all of those were unimportant as he noticed the increasing caution with which William held his arm against his chest. “What happened to your arm?”
“It’ll be fine. That’s not what we need to talk about right now.” William opened the door to the basement and started down the steps.
Byron shoved the keys in his pocket and followed his father downstairs. “What’s going on?”
William opened the door to the storage room and flicked on the lights. “Close the door.”
Byron pulled the door shut.
“Lock it.”
“You’re worrying me, Dad.” Byron locked the door. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
William laughed humorlessly. “No, not really, but we’re past the point where I can keep it from you.”
“Dad? What’s wrong?” Byron went to stand beside his father. He reached out again toward the arm his father was holding against his body.
“Stop that.”
“Sure, if you tell me what’s wrong with your arm.” Byron glanced at his father’s ashen face. “Is it a heart attack or—”
“No, it’s not. Let me start at the beginning.” William paused, and when Byron nodded reluctantly, he continued, “A long time ago, the town founders made an agreement, and it’s been honored ever since. There are terms, responsibilities that some of us must bear. A select few of us can ask questions that not everyone can”—he stared pointedly at Byron—“but it also means that we are held accountable for keeping the town safe when there is trouble. We are what stands between the living and the dead. Being an Undertaker is an honor, son.”
“I know.” Byron grew increasingly alarmed. His father was making less sense by the minute.
William ignored him. “I’m telling you what you need to know. I wish this wasn’t such a shock, son. I’m truly sorry about that.”
“What are you talking about?” Byron debated running upstairs to call for the ambulance. Nothing about his father’s behavior made sense.
“Listen. Stay focused.” William slid his hand down the outside of a pale blue metal cabinet that sat against the back wall.
“On what?”
The cabinet made a clicking noise, and as it slid to the side, a tunnel became visible. William added, “And trust your instincts.”
“Holy f—”
“No.” William’s gaze snapped to Byron’s face. “Reverence here.”
“Here?” Byron stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his father. Of all the answers he had imagined
