Page 14 of Home for Justice
Cory paused, then added with a sheepish smile, “He gave me the high sign to let you in on what we do if, you know, you’rethinking of sticking around.” He winced slightly. “But I realize that might be a little insensitive. You just got here to bury your grandfather. The last thing you probably want to think about is what comes next.”
“No, really, it’s fine,” Tyler said, his voice low but steady. “As I mentioned, I plan on staying. I didn’t come here with any expectations, but… well, my original plan was to spend some time with Gramps. Help him around the house. I didn’t have a specific timeframe for leaving, as I don’t have another job lined up or a new home to go to. With him being ninety, I figured I’d stay as long as he’d let me. Now?” He sighed heavily. “I don’t have anywhere else to be. I still need to take care of Gramps’s place. And I have nothing but good memories of my time here in Montana. It feels as much like home as any place I’ve been.”
He looked down at the table for a moment, fingers absently tracing a knot in the wood. “When I started the out-processing, I knew I’d come here to visit. I figured I’d have time with him.” His voice caught, and he exhaled slowly. “Coming here to bury him… that wasn’t supposed to be the story.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Cory said quietly, his voice full of genuine compassion.
Tyler nodded, meeting his old comrade’s eyes. Clearing his throat, he swallowed deeply. “I’m interested in learning more about Lighthouse Security, though. So if you can let Logan know, I’d appreciate it. But first… I need to get through the funeral. Figure out what the hell to do with the house.”
“No worries at all. I’ll talk to Logan,” Cory replied. “When you’re ready, let me know. We’ll bring you over to the compound and introduce you to the full team. Logan’s particular, but I know you, man. You’d fit right in.”
The two stood, sharing another back-pounding hug, the kind built from shared, quiet loyalty. As they stepped out into theafternoon air, the wind carried the scent of pine and the distant promise of snow on the mountaintops.
The sun dipped just beyond the peaks, casting long shadows across the Legion parking lot. Tyler lifted his face to the chill, drawing in a deep breath.
Later that night, back at the house, he stood in the living room staring at his grandfather’s worn recliner, the silence settling around him like an old friend. But for the first time since arriving, the weight on his chest didn’t feel so crushing.
There was grief, but also a flicker of something else. Possibility. And for now, that was enough.
8
No day was right for saying goodbye. But as Tyler stood beneath the Montana sky, he couldn’t deny the beauty of it. Bright blue stretched endlessly above, brushed with the softest swaths of white clouds. Sunlight spilled generously over the neatly mown cemetery, catching on the edges of the flag draped across the casket.
It was the kind of day Gramps had always loved. “The sun is brighter, and the sky is bluer in this corner of God’s world,” he used to say, usually with a coffee in one hand and his other arm slung across Tyler’s young shoulders.
Today, those words sank into Tyler’s chest like a precious stone wrapped in memory. He blinked up at the sky, letting it burn into him, before lowering his gaze to the coffin before him. His breath caught. Grief was heavy and sharp in his chest, but pride was there too, steady beneath the ache.
The American Legion chaplain kept the service simple, just like Gramps would’ve wanted. No frills. No dramatics. Just a few heartfelt words and the hush of reverence. Three of Gramps’s oldest friends had stepped forward. One was stooped and shaky with age, telling a story about stealing apples as boys and getting caught by the local preacher. The other two, both members ofthe Legion, spoke about Gramps’s steady hand around town, his open door, and the love he had for his family.
As the service neared its close, Tyler rose slowly, the weight of the moment pressing into his spine. The crowd before him blurred into a tapestry of faces. Some he recognized from childhood summers, and others who had simply known Gramps through decades of a well-lived life.
“My father used to talk about growing up here,” Tyler began, his voice rough but steady. “And every summer, my mom and dad made sure I spent time with Gramps and Grandma Cecile. This place is where I became close to the two people who meant the world to me besides my parents.”
With a soft chuckle, he added, “Gramps liked to share wisdom. Sometimes more than a kid wanted to hear.” A ripple of smiles passed through the mourners.
He let the warmth of that memory linger before his voice grew quieter, more reverent. “But the older I got, the more I realized how much truth lived in his words. I was lucky. Blessed, really, to have had him in my life. I hope I absorbed even half of what he tried to teach me.”
He glanced toward Cory and Logan, standing solemn with others from the Legion, before looking again at the coffin. His voice thickened.
“I was serving overseas when my parents died. I came home to a world that had tilted, and Gramps and Grandma stepped in… not because they had to, but because that’s who they were. Even though I was an adult, I leaned on them... and they carried me, no hesitation.”
A sigh trembled free from his chest, and he shook his head slowly, lips curving faintly through the sadness. “I was coming back to you, Gramps. I thought we’d have more time.” His throat closed for a moment before he pushed the words through. “ButI don’t take for granted a single minute I had with you. So go on now… dance with Grandma Cecile. I’ll see you on the other side.”
A sacred silence swept over the gathering, as the wind whispered through the trees. Tyler stepped back, drawing a deep breath as a quiet peace settled through him like the last note of a hymn. With a sniper’s keen eye, he looked up, gazing at those standing. There had been such a large turnout that he’d been unable to see each individual standing on the periphery. But now, near the back where a few mourners had shifted their stance, his body seized as his gaze landed on the woman from the hospital.
For a moment, everything inside him stilled. The same deep blond hair, loose now around her shoulders. The same calm presence that had steadied him with just a touch and a hug when grief had made him come undone. Her eyes widened as though just recognizing him as well. Suddenly, a deep, magnetic pull filled him. He wanted to rush toward her, but the chaplain moved forward then, and Tyler had no choice but to stay where he was.
He kept her in the corner of his eye, willing her to stay, but as the casket was lowered into the ground, and the first handful of dirt was tossed atop the lid, the press of people thickened around him. Handshakes and more words of comfort followed. And when he finally had space to breathe as more mourners dispersed, she was gone.
And all he could do was stare at the space where she’d stood, his heart pounding, knowing that somehow… this moment wasn’t the end.
Tyler’s fingers gripped the steering wheel, the urge to drive around town tugging hard at his instincts. He didn’t even know her name, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The woman with the steady eyes and healing touch. The one who had held him when he’d been too broken to speak.
But today wasn’t about him. It was about Charlie.
And Gramps deserved this… every handshake, every shared memory, every moment of reverence. So instead of chasing a shadow, Tyler turned his vehicle into the crowded parking lot of the American Legion building. Cars packed the spaces, spilling out onto the shoulder of the road. The turnout was a testament to the kind of man Charlie Marconi had been.
Someone stood near the front, waving toward a reserved spot with an almost reverent urgency. Tyler rolled down the window, offered a nod of thanks, and pulled in. When he stepped out, the man reached to shake his hand, then gestured for him to follow.
