I smiled at the image in my mind as I waved at them again.
“Fly free now,” I whispered as my eyes focused again and I pressed my hand to her casket. “You’re free.”
“She won’t be buried until later,” Jim informed us after the ceremony closed. “Have to wait until the grandkids can help get her down.”
The colour drained from my face as I imagined Jim and his cane on one side of the casket getting down the steep hill to the cemetery. I had to banish the grotesque thought of Olivia toppling out of the box as it cascaded down the slope with Jim and his family chasing it like a wheel of cheese on Cooper’s Hill.
“Why do you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the casket. “Why hold a funeral and bury her, instead of letting the state deal with unclaimed people? It must cost you money.”
Jim smiled as he eased himself into a soft green chair nearby.
“We come into the world and leave the world as equals. It’s the in-between that gets messy. Everyone deserves a dignified passage to heaven. That’s the view of our church.”
I found myself smiling back, even though we didn’t share the same religious beliefs.
“This church has been in my family since Glades Bay was founded. Burying the unclaimed has been our commitment from the beginning, and I hope it continues for as long as we’re still standing.”
I rubbed under my nose, trying to conceal the laugh rising in my chest at the irony—Jim didn’t exactly look like someone ready to keep standing for much longer. I covered the gesture by walking over to the round side table and grabbing a tissue.
“This was found on her,” Jim said, pulling a folded envelope from the front pocket of his paisley shirt. He held it out to me, and I hesitated before walking back over to him and taking it. Another envelope.
“What is it?” I asked.
Jim’s lips pressed together as he considered his words.
“When someone dies under the circumstances that Olivia did,” he looked up to the left, nodding to himself like he’d decided that was an appropriate way to explain it. “They sometimes leave a letter.” His eyes met mine as he finished to see if I understood, and my gaze immediately moved to the envelope in my hand.
“Oh.” Was all I could think to say as my shoulders sagged. Fresh devastation filled me, and all the remaining energy left my body.
“There might be something useful in there for someone who knew her,” his tone was gentle.
“I’m not sure if I should?” I held the envelope back towards him. I understood she didn't have anyone close to her by the empty room, but surely she didn't mean her last words to be read by me. Legally, was he even allowed to share this with me?
“Someone should,” Jim said, closing his hand over mine on the envelope. I found my head bobbing even though I wasn’t sure I agreed.
“But I’m not—I'm not family,” I stammered.
“If she left a letter, she had something important to say,” he replied, patting my hand. “And I’m an old man. I’ll do what I see fit. I think you were meant to see this.”
He was right. Olivia had likely gone her whole life without being heard.
Jim winked at me and started hummingHit Me with Your Best Shotby Pat Benatar, wildly inappropriate but oddly perfect. My lips curved into a smile as he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane, and began packing up the artificial flowers he’d placed around the room.
“Let me help with those,” Breeze smiled, looking relieved to have something to do. She moved to the back of the room and started collecting bouquets. Jim nodded and continued while I hovered on the spot as if my body were a new discovery. It felt weird leaving Olivia sitting there for the day. Especially knowing what I knew now.
Jim smiled at me as he hobbled past. “Hit me with your pet shark,” he sang quietly to himself. “Why don’t you hit me with your pet shark.”
A classic misheard lyric. He might have just become one of my new favourite people.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What do you think it says?”Breeze asked as she pulled onto the main road.
I waved at a smiling Jim, who insisted on seeing us off despite looking like his cane might punch through the church floor.
“I don’t know,” I said, staring at the white envelope still scrunched in my hand.
Breeze stopped at a red light. “But you’re going to open it, right?”
