I let her guide me past the Aldrichs, directly in front of Knox. I meet his gaze, I can’t help it. My eyes find his like magnets, and the pain written across his face is so raw it steals my breath.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Ella’s hand slides down his arm to his hand, squeezing, and whatever he was going to say dies.
I tear my gaze away and follow Mom into the church before I do something stupid.
Being back inside St. Mary’s with its gorgeous stained glass windows and dark wooden beams, the smell of incense and candle wax strong even in the large open space, hits me with a wave of nostalgia. But above those are the scents of flowers.
That’s when I let myself look at the front of the church, past all the people shuffling into pews. Right there, front and center, before the altar, underneath the massive crucifix, is Owen’s casket. Dark cherry wood with brass handles, covered in white roses and lilies, so many that I’m surprised I didn’t smell them from outside.
I’m thankful Mom’s hand is on me, because the second I see it, my legs almost give out.
There’s his senior picture again, blown up and displayed on a large easel.
It’s all too much. Too unbelievable.
Tears stream down my cheeks before I’m able to stop them.
Owen is in there.
Owen, who used to make me laugh until I cried, who made me terrible chicken soup when I got sick, and loved harder than anyone in this world.
Owen, who I kissed hours before he died, not knowing it would be the last time.
Mom steers us toward a pew, right behind the family area. I don’t argue, even though I’d rather be farther in the back to give myself some space. People are already whispering around us as they fill in the pews.
“Such a tragedy.”
“I heard the accident killed…”
“Wonder World—Yeah. Can you believe…”
My hands start to shake. I press them flat against my thighs, twisting the ring around my finger beneath my purse. Mom notices and gives my forearm a squeeze.
The murmurs quiet as the Aldrich family enters. Victoria and Richard first, the former clinging to her husband’s arm. Hailey follows with her husband and baby, the infant starting to fuss as they sit. And then Knox, with Ella’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm.
They slide in, ending up directly in front of me, between an empty pew. God, Knox looks so exhausted and it hasn’t even started yet. He massages the back of his neck, the tension visible there, before setting his hand on his lap.
Through the crack in the pew I watch Ella place her hand over his. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into her more.
I look away before jealousy strangles me completely.
A woman slides in next to Mom. I only notice her because of the ridiculously large black hat she’s wearing. She settles her purse on the pew next to her, glances our way, then quickly clutches her purse in her lap. Mom stiffens. She knows as much as I do why just looking in our direction elicits that response.
Hat Lady leans toward her neighbor and whispers something behind her gloved hand. Then she turns to Mom, her lip curling. “Your husband destroyed my retirement. You shouldn’t be here.”
Organ music begins at that exact moment. The service is starting, and the timing couldn’t be better. Mom lifts her chin, scooting a few inches away from the woman, and holds my hand tight.
There’s so much talking up on the altar. I can’t keep track of the priest’s words. They sound far away, not quite reaching my ears. Something about Owen’s life and God’s plan. The resurrection and the afterlife. Scripture readings that I’m sure are meant to be comforting but feel so detached from reality.
Time moves differently here. I blink and we’re standing for a hymn I don’t know the words to. Blink again and we’re kneeling. The prayers blur together, responses I learned as a child coming out on autopilot while my brain refuses to accept the space my body is in.
The casket is there every time my eyes open. The only constant in this otherworldly blur. Owen, or whatever remains of him.
There’s crying. So much crying. Maybe it’s my own I’m hearing loudest of all. People cough, Hailey’s baby fusses, the priest sings some more.
Mom keeps her hand in mine like an anchor. Without it, I might drift off.
I’m startled from blankness as people shuffle in the pew in front of us.
