Page 18 of Where the Darkness Goes

Britney was so loved.The thought hits me square in the chest as I further take in the crowded street and large gathering in the center of the hill just ahead, everyone huddled together near the blue tent.

I step out of the car and directly into a puddle. Water floods my heel, and I curse under my breath, then feel guilty over doing so. If any of the ladies from church had heard me, I’d get scolded.

Luckily, no one is close enough to hear except Garrett, who snickers to himself and holds out an arm to help me across the puddle. I keep hold of him long enough to balance on one foot and pull my shoe off my foot, dumping the cold water on the ground like a coffee that had been left in my car.

With the still damp shoe back on my foot, we slowly make our way up the large hill. I scan the crowd of familiar faces, though everyone seems to be looking straight through me. Despite the cloudy day, most faces are clad with sunglasses, and the ones that aren’t still stare into space with devastation etched into their skin. Pain seeps from the pores of everyone here and fills the air like the moisture from the storm.

The service hasn’t started yet, but Garrett and I stand near the back, peeking in between people to get a glimpse at her casket. Pastor Charles is at the front, wearing a black suit—like he wears from the pulpit on Sundays and Wednesdays—and a solemn expression.

My heels keep sinking into the muddy grass, so I balance on one foot then the other, fighting to stay steady. Next to me, Garrett notices, offering his elbow, which I loop my arm through without much thought, clinging to him and hoping my shoesdon’t end up stuck in the mud when I finally give in and ignore the sinking sensation.

“Friends…” Pastor Charles’s soft voice breaks through the whispers, and they taper off quickly. His chin quivers as he looks at Britney’s family sitting in the front row under the tent. “I’ll never understand it.” His voice cracks. “This will never get any easier.” Next to him, his wife, Mabel, puts a hand on his shoulder, drying tears of her own. She’s impossibly pretty, with buttery-yellow hair and crystal-blue eyes. “Britney Davis was a beautiful, loving member of our community. She was a sister. A teacher at our elementary school. A daughter. A devoted member of our congregation. A friend. A wife. A mother.” Tears line his green eyes, and he puts his head up toward the sky. “Britney Davis was loved, and she loved.” He clutches a hand to his chest, patting. “Oh, did she love. Anyone with a child in her class, whether in Sunday school or first grade, can attest to that.” He pauses, eyes scanning the crowd. When they land on me, there’s a hint of recognition in his eyes I haven’t found in anyone else’s. “She was the best of us.” He nods. “And she went home to see our Father before any of us were ready. I know there is a celebration going on in heaven right now.”

“Amen,” someone in the crowd calls out.

Pastor Charles is silent for several long seconds, his eyes scanning each of us like they do from the pulpit. Finally, he drops his head. “Let us pray.”

When the service is over, everyone lines up to offer their condolences to Britney’s family. Garrett and I are near the back of the line when I notice Pastor Charles moving toward us around the crowd.

“Tessa Becker.” He’s close enough now to keep his voice low, but still, some people turn their heads around to see. He holds out his arms, and I sink into his familiar hug. As I do, the sadness hits me again. He strokes my back gently, his cheek resting on the top of my head before he pulls away. “I hadn’t heard you were back in town.”

“Just for this.” I shrug, tears springing to my eyes before I can finish the thought. “I couldn’t miss…saying goodbye to her.”

His head falls forward, bouncing with a nod. “She was a good one. I know you two were close.”

I sniffle, but if I say anything else, I know I’ll start crying, and I desperately don’t want to do that.

“We’ve been missing you in church, Mr. Campbell.” His tone is soft when he looks at Garrett. “How’s your family? That little one must be growing like a weed.”

He clears his throat. “They’re good.”

Pastor Charles turns his attention back to me. “And your momma. How is she? I’ve been meanin’ to get by the nursing home and visit. She’ll be on my case about it once she’s feeling better.” His smile is sad, despite the attempted joke.

“She’s okay. We were just there to see her before we came here.”

“Good. That’s good. We’re all praying for her every day. Things just aren’t the same around here without her.” Something catches his eye. “Oh. The family needs me, but”—he puts a hand on my shoulder—“we’re all here for you, honey. And Will, too. If you need anything, all you need to do is call, okay? And I mean that. You say the word, and I will make it happen. Your momma raised half this town. We’re all just looking for ways to repay the favor. Promise me you’ll let me know if there’s something we can do.”

I meet his kind eyes with a nod. “Thank you. I will. I promise.”

With that, he steps away with a nod of acknowledgment and a little wave. I turn back to Garrett, who slips an arm around my shoulders.

When there are only three people ahead of us, Britney’s sister, Kristy, notices me in the line. Her eyes widen, and she turns to Mabel, whispering something to her. Mabel nods and steps into Kristy’s place in line. Looking back my way, she rushes toward me, arms outstretched, sunshine hair flying behind her. I catch her in my arms seconds before she starts sobbing, and my world collapses once again. I never realized how many ways hearts have to break.

I pat her hair, squeezing her against me, and for a moment it’s like having my best friend back. Kristy and I were never particularly close. She was three years younger than Britney and me, and she often tagged along just because Britney’s mom forced us to let her.

Still, I wrap my arms around her with everything I have, rubbing a hand along her back. “I’m so sorry,” I say, low enough that only she can hear.

She pulls away, drying her eyes. “Thank you for coming. It would mean a lot to Brit that you’re here.”

I brush her hair back, strands of it clinging to her wet cheeks, and tuck it behind her ears. “Of course. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“She always loved you.” Fat tears roll down her cheeks, and I brush them away. “She still talked about you all the time. In the big city. She was so proud of you.” She sobs. “But she missed you a lot.”

“I know. I missed her, too. And I loved her. I love both of you.” It’s the truth. The painful, devastating truth. I missed her, and I will miss her for the rest of my life.

She hugs me again. “I can’t believe you’re here. You have to come see Justin and the kids. They’ll be so happy you’re here. Idon’t know how to explain it to them, you know? How do you tell kids that someone could do this to their momma? How does anyone explain that?”

Her words stab me in the chest. “What?”

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