Page 15 of Home for Justice
Inside, the room opened into a vast space of tables, some already filled with people, while others were scattered with coats and drinks. Warm light poured in through windows, gilding the room in soft hues. Along one wall stretched a buffet that seemed to go on forever, filled with foil trays. Steaming casserole dishes lined up like soldiers, platters stacked with food prepared by generous hearts. Grief and gratitude rose in Tyler’s chest, settling there like something sacred.
“Tyler,” a voice called, and the chaplain appeared beside him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “The auxiliary women outdid themselves. Don’t feel like you have to work the room. We understand that this level of attention can be overwhelming. Please sit if you need to. Mingle if you want. Just know that we all loved your grandfather. He made this place better.”
Tyler swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, humbled. He wasn’t used to this kind of open admiration. He was looked at not for what he’d done in uniform, but for who he was because of the man they were all here to remember.
And still, even as people approached, offering stories and condolences, his mind drifted. He scanned the faces, looking for her.
Cory caught his eye and gave a quick wave, saving him from another round of emotional small talk. Tyler moved toward him with a grateful smile.
Cory introduced him around the circle. The names and faces blurred slightly, but it didn’t matter. These men and women didn’t need long explanations. There was a quiet, unspoken understanding that came from shared service.
Logan’s wife, a warm and vibrant woman named Vivian, stepped in with gentle authority. “Please, Tyler, get some food. These guys will follow my orders,” she teased, bumping her husband with her shoulder. “We’ll save you a seat.”
He gave a short laugh and nodded, though he wasn’t sure his stomach was up for it. Still, it would’ve been an insult not to at least try the meal the auxiliary had clearly poured their hearts into.
The food line moved slowly, and Tyler took a moment to breathe. He offered his thanks to the women behind the trays, their kind smiles greeting him. Steam curled from dishes of roast beef, green beans with bacon, baked macaroni, and sweet potatoes dotted with marshmallows. His stomach growled loud enough to startle a laugh from the woman next to him. He gave her an embarrassed grin and moved along, finally reaching the dessert table.
That was when he saw her again. She stepped into view from the kitchen doors, a plate of pie slices in her hands, moving with the same quiet grace he remembered from the hospital. For a second, she didn’t see him. And he didn’t move. He just watched.
Her hair was now woven into a single braid that slid over one shoulder, probably due to the food she was arranging. Her dress was simple but elegant. It skimmed curves instead of clinging. No jewelry, no artifice. Just her. All woman. And somehow, still the one who had slipped past his defenses with a single touch. She turned to set the platter down, her head still bowed.
“I’m glad I get to see you again,” he said quietly, his voice reaching for her before she could slip away again.
She jumped, then turned toward him. Her eyes lifted, and when they locked onto his, wide and surprised, something passed between them. “Me, too,” she said with a soft laugh, her smile blooming again as her brows arched in surprise. “I was so caught off guard when I realized you were Charlie’s grandson. I had no idea.”
Her gentle, lilting voice was as warm and bright as he remembered. The kind of voice that could calm someone in pain. And had. And just like that, the ache of the day shifted. It was no longer just about loss, but about something more comforting.
“I’m Tyler,” he said, a little breathless, still marveling that she was real. Not just some memory etched into grief.
She inclined her head with a small, knowing nod. “I gathered that much,” she replied, her lips curving. “I’m Justice. Justice McClay.”
The name hit him like a jolt. “McClay?” he echoed, his brows lifting as the pieces began to shift into place.
“Yes,” she said with a soft chuckle. “We’re neighbors. Or… well, we were Charlie’s neighbors.”
His gaze instinctively dropped to her hand, to the ring finger, and he suddenly realized he was pleased to find it bare. And it was. But that “we’re” lingered in his mind. She could still be spoken for.
Then another detail surged forward—something the chaplain had mentioned the day before. Charlie’s neighbor, Jack McClay, had suffered a heart attack last week and hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, though he’d been determined to come. His daughter had insisted he stay in the hospital until fully discharged. Tyler’s eyes lifted again, suddenly connecting the dots. “So, um… you live there with?—”
“My father,” she finished for him gently. “Jack McClay. He really wanted to be here.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The chaplain mentioned him. That explains why you were on the cardiac wing.”
Justice nodded. “Strangely enough, he had a heart attack just a few days before Charlie did. But Dad was able to have open-heart surgery. He’s doing really well now. Should be coming home in a day or two.”
“Gramps always said your parents were the best kind of neighbors.”
Her eyes softened, the sparkle in them fading slightly. “Thank you. My mom passed away from breast cancer about the same time as your grandmother.” She paused, swallowing. “It’s just been me, Dad, and Charlie holding up our end of the road since then.”
There was a quiet, shared understanding at that moment of loss that held families together and the bittersweet bond between generations. Tyler wanted to keep talking. He longed to draw her away, to find a quieter corner of this crowded hall and just be with her for a little while.
But her gaze flicked past his shoulder, and she smiled again. “I think your table’s looking for you.”
He turned slightly to see Cory waving, grinning like a man who knew he’d just interrupted something. Tyler hesitated, torn.
“Yes, I should… I…”
Before he could fumble his words further, Justice picked up a slice of pie from the plate she’d just arranged and held it out to him, her fingers brushing his. “Go on,” she said warmly. “You’re probably ready to drop by now.”
