Why hadn’t she treasured and appreciated those times while she had them? Why couldn’t she understand this big hole left behind? Nothing seemed right. Or normal. Or okay.
“Whitney?” Ruth’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Are you all right?”
They were already back to the house. Funny, she hadn’t even paid attention to where she was walking. “I’m fine.”
“I’m having trouble believing that.” Ruth reached for Whitney’s hands. Then she squeezed them. “You’ve endured a horrible loss. It’s perfectly acceptable for you to say that you are struggling. You don’t always have to be the strong one. Let those of us who love you help to carry the load.”
Ruth sounded so much like Mama. Her words struck Whitney’s heart and made her want to crumple into the snow and cry. But she couldn’t do that. Not with everything to be done. “I appreciate that, Ruth. I do.” She knew her words sounded cold, but that was all she could offer at the moment.
“Miss Powell ... Whitney.”
She lifted her chin and looked toward the door. Pastor Wilson stood there, his eyes full of compassion. “Thank you for coming, Pastor.”
He held out a hand to her. “We’ve gathered in the parlor to discuss the arrangements for Chuck. Will you join us?”
“Of course.” The expression in his eyes pierced her chest like a knife. The man had journeyed with them through too much this past year.
She looked away, needing no more reminders of all she had lost.
They followed the pastor into the parlor after shedding their coats and gloves. Whitney steeled herself for the conversation to come.
She looked around the room to each face. Havyn and John, Madysen and Daniel, Pastor Wilson, Mr. Norris, Chris—her dad—and two of his other kids.
Havyn scooted closer to John and patted the settee next to her. “Here, Whit.”
Taking the seat, she turned to their pastor. “I know you are very busy, but we appreciate you taking the time to come out and help us with this. Granddad was quite specific about what he wanted.”
The pastor chuckled. “Chuck was indeed specific. That’s why we came as quick as we could. Mr. Norris has offered his Roadhouse to have a service since so many in town would like to be present. Things can be done a little different since it’s the middle of winter. We can do the service at the Roadhouse and then if people want to come out here for the burial they can, but most people won’t expect a burial to be happening anyway.”
“We’re going to start the fires as soon as we are done here, and Amka has taken it upon herself to arrange for the grave to be dug. It will have to be done in layers as the fire thaws the ground, but Inuksuk and Yutu have assured me they will get it taken care of so we don’t have to worry about it.” John leanedforward and put his elbows on his knees. “We know that Chuck wished to be buried immediately. But this will have to do.”
“Will tomorrow after lunch work for the service in town?”
Madysen lifted her hand and piped up. “That won’t interfere with your business, Mr. Norris?”
“Not at all. I will close tomorrow morning and set up the room. There will be plenty of time to reopen for dinner.” The owner of the Roadhouse had been lavish with his generosity to them over the years. As Whitney watched the man’s face, she realized his eyes shone with unshed tears. He’d been friends with her grandfather for many years.
“Your goodness to our family is overwhelming, Mr. Norris. Thank you.” Whitney tipped her chin toward him but couldn’t meet his eyes. The numbness inside her grew.
“It’s the least I can do for Chuck.”
Pastor Wilson clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “I have notes from Chuck about his wishes. He wants several hymns to be sung and for the Gospel to be shared. In his words, ‘I don’t want sad and dreary. I want joyful. People celebrating with me that I’m in heaven.’ Now, I know that is hard to even imagine for us. It’s extremely difficult for those left behind to embrace joy in the midst of their grief. That’s why I’d like to ask if there’s anything you ladies would like me to include? Any wishes that you have?”
“Granddad asked if we would sing at his funeral.” Havyn’s words sounded as if they were choked. She caught Whitney’s gaze. “But I don’t know if we can do that. Can we?”
She’d forgotten about Granddad’s request.
Madysen chimed in. “I will probably cry my way through it, but I think we should. It was what he wanted. What do you think, Whit?”
As much as it hurt to even think about, Whitney straightenedher shoulders. “Since it was Granddad’s wish, I think it’s the best way we can honor him. It’s what we should do.” Easy enough to say, but doing it would be another thing altogether. The mask and the numbness would have to stay in place.
For as long as it took to make it through.
Riding out to the Bundrant farm, Peter prayed for each member of the family. Havyn and John had become good friends to him, and he had the opportunity to be their doctor as they awaited their first child. Always an exciting time.
Madysen and Daniel were just as much a joy to know. Maddy would have made an exceptional nurse as much as she loved to rescue people and animals alike.
Then there was Whitney. She had been heavy on his heart for months now. He always prayed for his patients, but for some reason the good Lord seemed to bring her to mind more often than any other.
