My eyes settled on Casey. She was showing the enormous strain of the past few days, and I struggled to comfort her in her time of need. At this point, I was taking my cues from my wife and allowing her the time she needed to cope with the overwhelming situation. Her main concern now was her niece and nephew, and Casey had channeled her grief intosupportingthem.
As I watched her now, Riley was curled up in her arms. Only seven years old, his hourly cries for his mother tore at all our hearts. In contrast, his sister, Sydney, remained silent and stoic beside Luke. Although she’d shed a few tears during the service, Sydney was clearly holding back. Her body stood rigid, a slow simmering fury bubbling just below the surface. I wondered when we could expect the explosion I was sure would come. I recognized that look of utter devastation on her face. I could feel it in my bones. Her heaviness weighed me down in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. I’d gladly have borne the pain she was now carrying, as my shoulders were used to the burden, but Sydney… she was so small and fragile, a girl mere weeks away from celebrating her tenth birthday, forced to confront death and all its unsatisfyingconsequences.
Luke, focused on a conversation with his cousin, didn’t see Sydney slip away and exit through the back door of the church. Through the window, I followed her path to the large fishpond on the edge of the grounds. She appeared so tiny as she sat on her knees by the water’s edge. Not wanting her to be alone, I walked down the trail toward her. Sydney blocked the sun with her hand as she turned toacknowledgeme.
“What are you up to?” I asked, kneeling down to herlevel.
“Findingrocks.”
There was a pile of them sitting beside her. I nodded, picking up one of my own and turning it in my hand. “Do youcollectthem?”
She didn’t answer right away, and I stayed silent. Finally Sydney tilted her head to the side and said, “No, I’m going to throw them at the fish. See if I can knockthemout.”
I was a bit startled by her nonchalant admission. What was it with the Caldwells and their fish hate? “Why are you going todothat?”
Sydney looked back down at her rocks. “I justwantto.”
Okay. That was disturbing. “What’d the fish ever dotoyou?”
She thought about that for a minute. “Nothing.”
“So is it nice to take your anger outonthem?”
“Probably not,” she said, shrugging. “But nobody’s nice to me, so I’m not going to be nice to anyone else, and I’m going to start withthefish.”
“Ah, I see. You plan on starting with something small and defenseless and then working yourwayup.”
“Exactly.” Sydney peered up at me, the tiniest of smiles transforming her strained face. “I guess I could hit you with the rocks instead ifyouwant?”
Her precocious comment caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but laugh. With her humor and quick wit, I’d always thought of Sydney as a mini Casey. It was almost like watching her grow up gave me insight into what my wife had been like at thesameage.
“How about this? We spare the fish… and my head… and use that shed backthere.”
Sydney gave what I said some thought before asking, “Can I break the window ontheside?”
“No.” I laughed. “Not the window. Geez, kid, work withmehere.”
“Fine, but if we get busted, I’m making you takethefall.”
Sydneyand I gathered as many rocks as we could carry and went around the side of the church to the old shed. All the guests were heading into the large reception room across the parking lot, and Casey caught my eye as we passed by, glancing apprehensively between the two of us, clearly seeking reassurance that her niece was all right. I nodded in reply. Yes, she was okay… a little malicious at the moment,butokay.
So as the others gathered for refreshments, Sydney and I spent the next ten minutes unloading on the shed. The hollow thwack of the rusting metal was strangely satisfying. Neither one of us held back, and we pelted the wall with ferocity. She seemed to gather strength with each punishing blow, and when our ration of rocks was depleted, Sydney improvised. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she continued the assault by kicking and beating the shed with every last bit of strength she had left. Whatever turmoil she was suffering in her head and heart needed this noisy release. I wasn’t concerned by the damage she was causing because it would only be temporary. I’d already decided the corroded hazard had to go. By the end of the week a nice, shiny new shed would take itsplace.
Sydney’s exhaustion stamped out her fury, and she slid to the ground, her back against the siding. She rested her head on her bended knees, the energy it took to cry zapping her of all earlier bravado. I skimmed down the shed myself and settled in beside her. Together we sat silently for a long while. I understood the benefit of quiet reflection. Not every situation required words. Eventually, she stood up and solemnly walked back to the reception room. I followed a few stepsbehind.
* * *
Re-entering the room,I sought out Casey, and when I found her in a tearful embrace with her mother, I decided to let them be. Filling a small plate with food, I took a seat next to Luke, who was staring out thewindow.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked. It was a stupid question, as his swollen, puffy eyes and crimson face indicated he wasanythingbut.
“Yeah, I don’t…I don’t know how I am. I saw you out there with Syd. Thanks for watching her. I didn’t even realizeshe’dleft.”
“She’sangry.”
“I know. She’s been taking it out onRiley.”
“Yeah, well, she just beat the snot out of the shed out back, so I think Riley will be safe for the next few hours. In the future, though, a punching bag might be asmartbuy.”
