Page 51 of Save Me

He nodded. “I’ll give you the first bite.”

“I never could tell you no.”

IT WAS THE morning of the funeral. The day was clear, but a little cool. Lainie dressed for warmth, choosing a pair of black winter slacks, a blue cashmere sweater to wear under the matching jacket and soft black socks with a pair of black loafers.

A quick glance in the full-length mirror was the assurance she needed. She mostly looked like herself again. Same long auburn hair hanging below her shoulders. Same arched eyebrows and thick lashes. Same oval face and straight nose. Same lips. Hunt called them kissable. But he also considered her entire body kissable, so there was that. Considering Hunt liked her best naked, then she only had to please herself, and turned away.

Hunt was still in the bathroom shaving, so she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was hard to figure out how to feel. This wasn’t a new loss. And for her, it wasn’t fresh grief. Maybe it was about turning loose. Of giving up. All she knew was that the hole in her heart would be real.

She took her coffee to the kitchen table, then sat with her view to the backyard. Before long, the first snow would fall. It wouldn’t last. It was just a forerunner of the long winter to come.

She could hear Hunt opening drawers and doors down the hall, and knew he was getting dressed. She smiled. The sound of his presence was her blessing. She would never ask God for more. Then she heard him coming up the hall and turned to look, then forgot to breathe.

He was a sight to behold—the soldier he’d been, in full-dress warrant officer uniform, holding his hat. A black dress jacket, adorned in gold braid and stars. Blue trousers with a gold stripe down the outside of each leg. A white, semiformal shirt with a turn-down collar. A black bow tie. The array of service medals was a roadmap of his accomplishments, then she saw the Purple Heart. She knew he had one. But she’d never seen it.

He was searching her face for approval. “To honor our son,” he said.

Lainie put a hand on her heart. “You honor us all. I don’t think I ever said this aloud, but...thank you for your service.”

He nodded. “Are you ready, darlin’?”

“Almost,” she said.

He followed her to the living room, then to the rocking chair by the hearth. She picked up the little bear, gave it a hug, then handed it to Hunt.

His eyes briefly closed as he held it to him, and then they were gone.

The ride to the funeral home was silent.

Lainie held the bear in her lap all the way, and when they arrived, the director was waiting.

“Follow me,” he said, and led them into a viewing room, and up to the tiny, satin-lined casket and the small nosegay of white roses lying on top of it.

Lainie laid the bear inside, as if she was putting a baby to bed, then Hunt stepped forward, and to their surprise, removed his Purple Heart and pinned it onto the bear’s chest, right above the metal heart within it.

“He fought his own war,” Hunt said.

They were holding hands as the director closed and locked the casket, and then they followed its passage through the winding halls of the funeral home and out to the waiting hearse in the adjoining garage. They stood in silence, watching as the casket and flowers were loaded, and then were escorted to the family car.

Mr. Taylor seated Hunt and Lainie in the back, and as soon as the doors shut behind them, Hunt put his hat in his lap and turned and kissed her.

“This is the hardest day, and you’re the bravest person I know. Stay with me, darlin’. I’ve got your back.”

Her eyes were welling with unshed tears, but she had no regrets. “This is why I waited. I could never have done this without you.”

“The same people who broke us, broke him. We’re free from them now, and he deserves the same level of release.”

Mr. Taylor got behind the wheel as the pastor took the seat beside him. The drive was brief, and as soon as they stopped behind the hearse, they all exited the car.

Once again, Hunt was steadying Lainie’s steps as they approached the hearse. Upon their arrival, he handed Lainie over to the director.

“Mr. Taylor, I would appreciate it if you would steady my lady’s steps. She’s still healing from her ordeal.”

“It would be my honor,” Taylor said, and offered Lainie his arm.

Hunt put on his hat, then leaned into the back of the hearse and picked up the casket. There was a brief moment of clarity as he measured the weight of it. The pack he’d carried throughout basic training weighed thrice this, maybe more, but the absence of life within it was a weight he would forever bear.

He’d already seen the little tent on the hill where the grave had been dug and started toward it, with the rest of the entourage behind him.

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