Page 6 of Like A Moth To A Flame

I forced a laugh. It sounded fake, even to me. I cleared my throat.

“No problems here. I keep to myself.”

“Course you do. You’re a Harper,” he said, clapping me on my shoulder as he slid past me. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go pay my respects.”

I watched him weave through the crowd, making his way to the front. The entire police force had to have been here, along with the Chase County fire department. Turning towards the pulpit, I recognized almost every face.

I could pick out the white wispy hair of Brad Coleman, one of my dad’s cop buddies, and beside him, I noticed Dale Watchman, the fire chief. All the firefighters wore their Class-A uniforms as a show of respect. I saw Carl Lee’s silvery blonde hair. He was easy to pick out in a crowd. He always reminded me of that one Russian guy from that Rocky movie.

“Everyone’s here,” I said, and Barrett nodded.

“Yep, Principal Lewis is over there, too. Next to Tommy. Remember him?”

Of course, I remembered Tommy. He was the one who saved me when I had been taken. I looked across the room and spotted him. He was the typical attractive firefighter—dark, slicked-back hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a 5 o’clock shadow.

I remembered him well.

2

I can’t drown my demons, they know how to swim

Moth

Thankfully, the service was quick.

They didn’t ask me to speak, and I was glad. I would have, of course, but I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. I probably would have made a fool of myself, or maybe I would have just stood up and passed out.

Sheriff Banner gave the eulogy, and I’m glad. He did an amazing job. It’s what Dad would have wanted. In the back of my mind, all I could imagine was what Dad would have said if he had been here, and he would have been proud.

Well, technically, hewashere. He was just lying in a pine box.

My stomach did a nauseating flip-flop at the thought, and I had to force myself to look away.

“He was a good man,” Sheriff Banner said, gently striking the podium with his fist. I could hear his voice cracking, and when I looked back at him, tears were streaming down his face. “He took care of us. All of us.”

He backed away from the podium, and Fire Chief Watchman embraced him. They exchanged a few words before the pastor made his way up, speaking softly. He was giving directions to the cemetery as if we didn’t already know, but I wasn’t listening.

Sheriff Banner’s words were stuck in my head and stuck in my throat, and the tears came faster.

He took care of us.

He did. A lot of the cadets and even some firefighters and medics called him ‘Dad’. He had a sort of paternal air around him, and that never faded. Except it was gone now.

It was gone, becausehewas gone now.

Who would take care of me?

I had nobody. I was alone.

I looked over at Barrett, mouth open to speak, but when I saw the tears sliding into the stubble along his jaw, I shut my mouth with a snap.

I couldn’t make this about me now.

I sat there for a long while, watching everyone file out. I didn’t want to be lost in the madness just yet. I wasn’t sure I could stand even if I wanted to. Barrett sat patiently beside me, reaching over and placing a loving hand across my knee. Once the room was empty, I forced myself to stand up, my legs shaking. I reached out to grab the back of the pew, not trusting my wobbly knees.

I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, making my way to the doors. Tommy stood at the door, holding it open. I thanked him as I passed, unsteady as my heels made the transition from stone to gravel. I managed to stay upright as I stumbled to the car. Once I’d sat down, I finally allowed myself to breathe.

Once, twice, and then again.

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