Page 25 of Burn Falls
V had texted me that she was taking the first flight out of Seattle and would arrive in Anchorage at eight-thirty in the morning. I was excited to see her, even on this dreaded day, and then I realized it was the first time a smile had graced my lips since my night in the bar with Draven. And just as I thought of him, a reply text arrived.
Sorry for the late reply. Crazy night in the ER. I wish I could have done more. Please let me know if you need anything from me. I’m always here for you, and I love seeing you smile.
I read his text no less than ten times and debated if, in my six am, pre-coffee state, I was reading the words wrong.
I’m always here for you and love seeing you smile.
The moment I saw Valencia walk out the doors, I hurried out of my mom’s car, rounded the trunk, and flew myself into her arms.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I would have been here sooner if you’d let me.”
A tear slid down my cheek as I pulled apart from her. “I thought I could handle it.”
“Your father died. It’s okay to want help.”
I nodded and opened the trunk for her to put her suitcase in. “Thank you.”
On the way back to Burn Falls, I told V everything. From the attack to distracting myself with how hot my father’s doctor was, to the moment I watched my dad take his last breath. It surprised me that I didn’t cry as I relived everything, but my tears were dried up.
She smiled tightly as I pulled the car into the driveway. “I’m here to do whatever you need me to do.”
“Again, thank you.”
After V met my family, we went up to my room so she could unpack and we could get ready for the funeral. Even though she let me get dressed and do my makeup in silence, just knowing she was there was enough to give me hope that I could get through this day.
The sun glistened on the snow as we gathered at the grave site, an organist playing classical music to drown out the sniffling of our family and friends. Everyone was local because the only living relative my father had was his mother, and she was in her nineties and not able to travel from Ireland.
My brother was the first to pay tribute to my dad. “On behalf of my mom, myself, and my sisters, Calla and Betha, we’d like to thank you for joining us here today. My father was hard working, kind, and generous. He always had time for everyone despite his long hours at his distillery. He ran O’Bannion Burn, knowing he had a responsibility to the local community, and each and every employee was family to him, to us, and I think that shows with the number of people who have come here today. But to us, he was a devoted husband,” Alastair nodded over to Mom who began to sob, “and a loving father. He was our hero, and we’ll never forget him.” He struggled on his last words and took a moment to gather himself as my own tears streamed down my face. “We love you, Dad. Rest in peace, and I hope there’s a bar in heaven where you can have your O’Bannion Burn.”
He came to sit back beside us, and Mom enveloped him in her arms as he broke down.
It struck me that this was the end. This was the place I’d need to come to talk to him, to ask for his help like I had many times before. I also sobbed because he would never walk myself or Betha down the aisle when we got married nor see if Al carried out the O’Bannion name by having a son of his own.
Once we were back at the house, my mom’s friends and V took charge of the food, and I busied myself fixing drinks for anyone who wanted one. I knew it was part of the celebration of Dad’s life for people to be here, but I couldn’t wait for everyone to leave.
I was emotionally drained.
V was asleep the next morning when I woke and went downstairs for coffee. I’d expected everyone to still be asleep given the day before, but Mom was sitting on the couch surrounded by papers.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Morning, honey. Did you sleep okay?”
I shrugged. “The best I could, given the circumstances.”
Mom reached for her coffee and took a quick sip. “I’m glad you’re the first awake. I need to speak to you about something before your brother and sister come down.”
“Sure. Can I get a cup of coffee real quick?”
“Of course.”
After making a cup, I returned to the living room and sat next to her on the couch. “What is it you want to talk about?” I had no idea what it could be. Was she going to go back to her ways and degrade me for being overweight? Blame me for my father’s death again?
She took another sip of her coffee. “I want to apologize for all the hateful words I’ve said to you. I know it wasn’t your fault that your father was attacked or died.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
