Neil clapped my shoulder as his family fell in line beside him. “It’s a hell of a thing, son. One hell of a thing.”
I nodded once then indicated the chaplain. I had planned on being wrapped up already, not greeting guests I hadn’t invited. Despite not having invited them, I was glad they’d invited themselves. The chaplain had been right—it felt good to be surrounded by loved ones, or as close to loved ones as I had. I’d never openly admit it, but it was the truth.
The chaplain rolled his shoulders back. “We are brought together today by a great tragedy. A life ending before its time. A man—”
“Hold on. Wait! I’m sorry. Just hold on one more minute!” someone hollered from the trail.
My initial response to hearing Josie’s voice was to smile. So I went with a drawn-out sigh. When she came into view, I saw what was to blame for slowing her down.
“Damn these heels. Why can’t they make a pair more suited for rough terrain?” She glanced at me just long enough to acknowledge me with a smile before going back to watching the ground like it was about to reach out and grab her. With the heels she had on, it was a miracle she’d made it that far without breaking her neck.
Jesse nudged me. I didn’t get what he was hinting. Then he elbowed me. I still didn’t get it. Finally he sighed and said, “Why don’t you go help her before she breaks a heel or a leg?”
Riding in on the white horse and saving the day was Jesse Walker’s thing, not mine. That’s why I hadn’t picked up on his hint. When I stayed glued where I was while Josie hobbled over a few more rocks, Jesse shook his head. Before he’d taken one step toward her, I grabbed his arm. “I got it. Hey, stilts, let me give you a hand before you go and break your neck.”
If she wasn’t so busy watching the ground, I knew she would have glared at me. “I don’t know what I was thinking wearing these things. Where’s a pair of boots when a girl needs some?”
I’d seen Josie in a pair of shoes other than boots maybe a dozen times since I’d known her, but seeing her in a pair of heels with the knee-length dress she had on made me wish she’d wear them a lot more.
Unbelievable. I was at my father’s funeral and having moderately inappropriate thoughts about a girl’s legs. I didn’t have many, but I knew I’d had finer moments than that one.
“Yeah, but they sure look nice.” I forced my eyes up right about the time Josie stumbled over a rock Hell, maybe she stumbled over her own two feet. I’d gotten to her just in time. I broke her fall right before swinging her into my arms. We didn’t have much farther to go, but I didn’t want to wait another decade for her to maneuver her way there.
“What are you doing?” Josie asked, her tone as shocked as her expression.
I shrugged, asking myself the same question. “Blue moon.”
Josie’s forehead lined. “Come again?”
“You’ve never heard of a blue moon?”
“Yes, Garth. I’ve heard of a blue moon.” Today’s eye roll count: one. “What does one have to do with you helping me?”
“This guy’s got the day off from playing the hero.” I slugged Jesse’s arm after setting Josie down. “I’m filling in.” Jesse’s and Rowen’s expressions matched Josie’s. “What?” I was ready to slug him again if he didn’t stop looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I knew you had it in you all along.” Josie planted her feet on a level patch of sand.
“Yeah, yeah. No need to go and spread the word, Miss See-the-Good-in-Everyone, because I’m about to have the reluctant hero inside of me exorcised.”
“Too bad. That was the first time in years that I haven’t wanted to slug you in the jaw.”
The chaplain cleared his throat, and Josie zipped her lips at me.
“Fine, bossy,” I muttered.
“Whatever. Hero.” She gave me a wide grin before turning her attention to the chaplain.
“Garth? Are you ready to proceed?” the chaplain asked, still looking like he wasn’t in any hurry.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Even the smart-ass tone I’d perfected fell flat.
“Did you bring something to symbolize your father being here in spirit?”
“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” Digging in my shirt pocket, I pulled out the cap and set it on the large rock beside the chaplain. Want to know how to make a crowd of talkers go so silent it made the air thick? Thunk a Jack Daniels cap in front of them where a casket would be if Clay Black’s ashes weren’t scattered over acres of barren, rented land.
The chaplain was the first to make a noise, even though it was only a clearing of his throat. “Would you mind sharing how this . . . this . . . signifies your father?” The poor chaplain couldn’t even bring himself to say it.
Me, on the other hand, had no problem. A cap of Jack was home sweet home in my world. “Clay liked to drink. A lot. He also liked throwing empty bottles at me when I did something that irritated him. Like brush my teeth before bed. Or eat a package of Saltines for dinner. Or, when I was still dumb and hopeful as a child, ask for a hug before bedtime.”
I noticed Rowen take Jesse’s hand. It was an easy gesture. Effortless. Almost like her hand had acted of its own accord.
“The bottle that cap came from was the last one Clay threw my way. The one he threw at me the night he died. Right before I left. The last one he’ll ever throw at me. I would have brought the bottle, but it was busted to shit. Totally unsalvageable. But that right there, the cap to a bottle of Jack, meant Clay died with the good stuff in him. That meant it was the first of the month and his disability check had just come in. That meant he had a couple more days of drinking the good stuff out of a bottle before switching over to the stuff out of a plastic jug that turned a person’s insides. My dad died with the good stuff in him. That’s all a person like Clay Walker could ask from life.”