att's life ended unexpectedly—in a moment of reckless insanity.
Wednesday evening, we were a close knit, fun-loving fivesome—
Wednesday night . . .
Matt was gone.
It'd been one of the rare occasions we'd gone our separate ways. Pretty much though, we were inseparable-my cousins, Matt and Lanette Kelmann, my twin brother, Jace-Anthony, my fiancé--Matt's closest friend-Irvyn Woodworth, and I.
We'd gone to Overlook Manor, our favorite restaurant for special occasions. For me, every night out with Irvy is a special occasion. We were supposed to be getting married Sunday . . . tomorrow. I wanted to celebrate that every hour of every day. We had such a good time then.
Matt had recently found a girl he cared about almost as much as racing and his cars. Wednesday, for the first time in—well—I don't know when, Matty decided he wanted to go off on his own afterwards with Krista. They'd parted from us in the parking lot at Overlook.
If only Irvy and I had insisted we stay together, he'd be alive now.
Dad says we can't be sure of that—maybe we'd be dead too. But that's not so. It would've all been different if he hadn't gone off alone that night. I say alone, because Krista hadn't a clue how to handle Matt. How to keep him from doing what he did. She hadn't been dating him long enough to have developed that skill. Although, to be honest, few had it.
Yet, I don't think it was for the thrill of it that'd made him go along with this brainless plan. It'd been a challenge, and Matt could never walk away from a challenge. Not even for the sake of his new love. He had a low opinion of guys that wimped out. But Irvy would've known how to make him give up a foolish challenge without hurting his pride. He'd been doing it for years . . . Like the time the idiot gang challenged Matt to tie a ribbon on the tail of Mr. Henning's bull, Fritz.
Dashing through the narrow end of the field was one thing. Actually playing in the field where the beast grazed was another. The only humans he tolerated were the Hennings, and he did that grudgingly. That never stopped us from crossing the field to get to where we wanted to go, but we always crossed it at that narrow part so we could be fairly certain of rolling under the fence before we got gored. Then one day we saw Fritz tear apart dogs with his vicious horns and his well-aimed kicks. These two probably deserved their fate-they'd been up to no good in that field, worrying the cattle and attacking a couple of Mr. Henning's best cows. Fritz wasn't satisfied until neither dog moved.
So, when Matt showed every determination to display the color of his courage, even the one who emulated his every move was alarmed. That'd be me. And for every reason I had why he shouldn't do it, Matt had two for why he would do it. Not saying they were great reasons, but to the kids we were at the time, they sounded like good ones!
Except to Irvy. After we other three had made our attempts talking sense into Matt, he took over.
"Matt, this oughta be a two way street here! Challenge one of them back! Make 'em prove their own courage!" Irvy urged him. "Because, I think that when Fritz impales you on those horns, leaving you bloody in the field, so will they! They'll deny they ever dared you to do it! Why give them the satisfaction of laughing at you like that?"
Matt could take a joke on himself, be the first to laugh. But to be laughed at in a scornful way, that was different. Then he became something close to Fritz's brother, and you better be booking it to the next county if you were the one mocking him. He'd looked Irvy in the eye, questioned softly, "Laughing at me?"
"Sure! That's the only reason they dared you! For a laugh! They probably said, "Hey, we got nothing els
e to do today! Let's get the brave idiot, Matt Kelmann to tease Henning's bull, and see him bleed!" So where do they get off challenging you when they're as yellow as bananas themselves!"
"Irv—I think you got something there! They talk big, don't they? Let's see if their bravery is as big as their mouths, or as puny as their brains!"
At the appointed time, we all met at the upper end of the Henning's field. Matt challenged the leader of the gang. "I'll tie the ribbon on Fritz's tail, but you have to go with me and catch the tail so's I can do it!" When they protested and started in on him, he said, "You said I had to tie the ribbon on the tail, you didn't say anything about I had to catch it myself. Now—I'm willing! Got the ribbon right here in my hand. Show me your guts!"
Well, they all decided to keep their guts, and we taunted and jeered them so bad they skulked away and left us alone for a long while after. Matt came off looking like Hercules without having to do anything. But if Irvy hadn't said anything to him, he'd've jumped right into that field, and either have wound that ribbon on Fritz's tail or been killed trying. Since he couldn't stand to have anyone think his courage was less than True Blue American, his funeral might have taken place long before now. So I know if we'd been with him Wednesday night, only four days ago . . . only four days . . . was like four years . . . I know Irvy would've shown him that the situation he'd gotten himself into was just like that one with the bull.
Very much like it-for it'd been those same guys who'd challenged him this time as well. Two of whom gave themselves up to police the next day. We wanted to run right over and demand their blood right then and there—but Mom and Aunt Lynore wouldn't let us. Their trial was set for the beginning of next month. We'd have our say then. So we have to curb our impatience and hard feelings-and wait. But it's hard.
Truth is, though, Matt had always been a little hyper-crazy. Couldn't stay in one spot for two seconds. If he didn't have something constructive to do, he'd find something else to do. Not necessarily always destructive, but then, not within house rules, either. Always interesting, though! Maybe that's what I'd admired about him as a tot. Man, he could egg me on to anything, and I'd do it to win his approval, his admiring, "Whoa, you got guts, Little Jo! More than anyone else—even Irvy!"
By the time I'd turned nine, he'd settled into his role in a more companionable way, and we would plan things together instead of him simply daring me to follow.
Irvy and Jace always attempted to put a lid on some of our wilder notions. But other times they'd buckled under our taunts of "Chic-ken!" and "Scaredy cat!" to prove they had the same color guts we had. Lanette copied us with never a whimper. She'd eat worms first before she let anyone challenge her courage! Except for when it had to do with anything concerning Fritz.
We got our share of bumps and bruises, plus the occasional broken arm or leg, punctuated by disciplines of every sort. None of which pierced our armor. We'd be back at it soon's the dust settled, the redness was out of our seat, limbs were healed-more or less-and/or the grounding period lifted.
Amazingly, our parents' had not only kept full heads of naturally hued hair plus their youthful looks, but also their sense of humor continued intact. Probably was what got them through it all.
Luckily for us, they never demanded we pack our bags and leave! Really, no one could've asked for more understanding, loving parents!
Everyone bet against us ever reaching our eighteenth birthdays. Even our parents had worried we wouldn't reach adulthood alive and breathing . . . except maybe in a wheelchair. Or, more likely, as a complete vegetable on life support.
They all lost their bets for we all made it to our twenty-fourth in great shape, Matt and Irvy achieving their twenty-eighth, in fact. But Matt had missed the big 3-0, (the magic year we were all supposed to grow real brains and settle down for good), by a year and two months. Now the bet was we'd perish before we knew better.
Well, so we didn't all have the same sort of brains! Who does? Matt and Irvy'd gone to school together from kindergarten on. While Irvy excelled in everything he did, Matt hadn't taken school too seriously. Since he couldn't sit still for long, he'd considered studying a waste of time, and was the class cut-up for all of his school years. Pretty much graduated by the skin of his teeth.
Right out of school he began working as a member of a pit crew, going often to the races, and betting on them, too. Then he discovered rally racing. Entered the annual dash to the top of Mt. Washington and was hooked after that. He took a course at one of the rally schools, then became a co-driver for a few races. However, Matt being Matt, co-driving was far too tame to him. He wanted to be behind the wheel tooling along the mountainous passes, dirt roads, tracks and trails of the grueling courses. But he wanted a navigator he could depend on. Someone who could read the route book and the terrain.
Didn't need too much encouragement from him for me to go and get my license. Nine times a year, we were a team on those rally courses that only a mad man would consider navigating. We acquired a Super Beetle and a Subaru for our meets and were climbing steadily up in our levels. Actually, if I have to say it myself, we were a great team!
To do him credit, anything to do with cars and racing, Matt was great at. His father and mine owned a full service auto repair shop, so he'd had their influence from the start. Once I became his co-driver, they initiated me under the hood and body of the cars, too. When we ran into problems, was a great feeling to know I'd been able to help get it going again.
Lately, we'd begun to take my little brother, Jarrett-Andrew, with us. He loved chatting with the drivers and their co-drivers, enjoyed mingling with the racing crowd. Watching the action from the safety of Dad's arms or Irvy's shoulder. Just a couple weeks ago Jarrett announced his intention of becoming Matt's co-driver and assistant mechanic when he grew up.
"Hey, buddy, that's great! I'm waiting for you, okay? You grow up quick, all right! Be four today, but tomorrow, I need you to be twenty-eight!"
"Okay!" Jarrett had answered all excited and determined to make it so. "Cuz when Irby marries Joleigh, you need a new nav'gater, huh, Matt? Okay! I eat some more Cheerios, and I be bigger tomorrow! You gonna let me drive too, huh!"
"You bet! When you're big enough, you'll be driving these babies with me, buddy!" And Matt'd shaken hands with Jarrett just as if he'd been an adult. He hadn't just been pacifying a toddler, either. Matt passed his enthusiasm onto anyone who'd stand still long enough to listen. Whatever their age.
Some said rally racing was pretty much like camping with a race car—but I don't know . . . it was more than that to us. No other camping trip I ever went on featured the thrills of racing against time and terrain at high speed!
I'll always be glad that I stood still long enough. Road, rally, drag . . . I loved it all. Matt even backed me to win the powderpuff demolition derby at the fairgrounds a few times. Wearing my own colors, I recently astonished everyone by winning a couple drag racing competitions in his dragster.
Mom took pictures of my big event, and had them enlarged and framed for the living room to spite The Club-the exclusive clu
tch of aunts and older cousins who predicted the worst doom for us. I swear they met weekly to discuss the issue. No, probably daily!
Their meddling andtheir strictures never dulled the twinkle in Matt's eyes, and his good-humored grin had rarely faded. Moreover, anyone could count on him to listen to a sackful of troubles. No matter how busy he was, he'd take time to let you spill your guts, or cry your heart out.
He might tell you what he thought about the situation, but more often, he'd get you to figure out the solution yourself. He'd drape an arm about your shoulders, give you a quick hug, and he'd say, "Look, you gotta do what you gotta do! But, what is it you want to do? Maybe that's what you gotta do! Y' see? You figure that out and you'll be as happy as me!"
Strangely, we did see. Guess it made sense to Uncle Mitch too. He didn't ever once try to talk Matt out of his racing dreams. Talked to him about it with all the animation Matt himself displayed. Always came with us to meets, and never held back from backing Matt when he needed it. Matt paid back the debt. Matt always paid back his debts.
Except for the last one.
Just ten days ago, Irvy'd gone in with him on a Porsche for some road races Matt intended to enter. Wouldn't ever be tried on the track now. I wanted to, but Mom cried when I said it, so I let it go. Was the first time she ever wished I'd just be a girl. So now, Irvy and Uncle Mitch would probably find a buyer for the car. Maybe all of the cars.
Not that Irvy seemed to care about the money. Could be he'd opt to just keep the Porsche himself. I sort of hoped he would. Matt'd taken me with him the day he bought that car . . . the one I'd liked the best of the three we'd test driven that afternoon. Somehow, I had to find a way around Mom's objections. She'd never had any before Matt's accident. As treacherous as the rally courses were, she'd never held me back.
Okay, sure, I'm impulsive, too. But just because I'm the tomboy type, and can't always sit still for longer'n two minutes, doesn't mean I'm totally brainless. Never had to kill myself to get awesome grades. Just read the material over, did a few exercises in whatever lesson it was to prove to my teachers and my parents I really knew what it was all about-that's it. Graduated at the top of my class.
Didn't follow Irvy into med school, or go into law or anything like what was expected of me-by The Club's Standards, anyway. Instead, I'd chosen to 'squander' my talents working at a recreation center with disadvantaged kids and spending time with the lonely elderly at Seaton Hall. And, of course, following Matt's dream of racing down pea gravel roads, flying up and down hills and around hairpin turns, maybe ending up in a swamp because I hadn't read the route book quite accurately.
What really torqued me was that, while it was reckoned that I was wasting my time at the Center-probably influencing these tender young lives to a spirit of rebelliousness—these same discerning officials of The Club judged Jace-Anthony to be a wholesome role model for the kids there! Except that:
"He ought to get himself a teaching degree! If he likes to teach swimming and athletics to disadvantaged kids, he ought to become a coach or something of the sort! Someone should suggest it to him, he's a sensible lad, he'd listen . . ."
Well, the sensible lad still could be persuaded by a cry of "Chic-ken!"
Just as Matt had.
So, now here we were, assembled with all the members of The Club, and other family members and friends, to weep his tragic passing. Except for my Uncle David and his family. But they had a good reason not to be here. One of their four girls had a serious heart condition, and just recently, she'd collapsed.
One of my friends, Thomasyna Tollefson, is an actress—pretty famous one, too—and she'd agreed to take a part in the Littleton Little Theater's benefit play this summer. All the proceeds were to go to Jaimee's family. Jaimee'd been pretty excited over that. She and Thomi had become good pals. Actually, Thomi's the type who makes friends pretty easily. Uncle David hadn't been too happy I'd told her about their problems, but I hadn't meant for Thomi to hop in there and do all that she's done for them-although I should have known she'd do exactly that. She can play the coaxing little girl part to perfection, so in the end David couldn't say no.
But, not too long ago, Thomi had a serious riding accident. Serious enough that Dr. Wray—Irvy's Uncle Lloyd—told her she had to give up the play. Only when Aunt Marsha's mom accidently let it slip, last Sunday, that Thomi wouldn't be doing the play, well, Jaimee'd gone crazy. Nothing anyone had said made any difference to her. Not even I could calm her. Thomi probably could have. But she didn't get to the house until after it was over, and Jaimee had gone off in the ambulance.
So now, the poor little kid was languishing in a hospital bed in Providence, her condition pretty much touch and go. For a while, we'd all been afraid she'd not make it.
Would've sucked if we'd've had to bury both Jaimee and Matt. Was bad enough that one of my Merriwether cousins had been killed only a month earlier in a car wreck. Although, in Lawron's case, his car had veered off the road and gone over one of those impossibly steep embankments they lay claim to in West Virginia. Probably fell asleep most opinions concluded. Totally different thing from just being a fool as Matt had been!
Unlike The Club, though, David and Marsha had envied Matt's energy. Appreciated his genuine concern for little Jaimee. He used to take time to go with me and entertain her and her sisters. So them, we could forgive for not being here with us. For the four of us-now three, they were our second favorite aunt and uncle.
In general, though, everyone's hectic life allowed for attendance at funerals. Once in a while, a wedding—rarely, a birth. But always, always a funeral. Nothing makes people regret hurtful words and actions-things left undone or unsaid-than does a funeral. Or recall all the words of wisdom they'd imparted to the deceased-which, of course, went unheeded for the most part, and look what happened because of it!
What a field day they were having tonight! Lanette and I wished they'd all leave, but there was yet another hour before we could kiss them all goodbye. Some of them, we wanted to just plain kiss off!
Like Uncle Todd Merriwether—who didn't seem to me to be all that loaded with common sense himself. He'd dropped out of school at thirteen, and at fifty-two, was still trying to discover what he wanted to be when he grew up. But there he was, crying about Matt's shortcomings.
"Why hadn't that kid done something better with his life! Such a waste! Which is what he did with his time in school! Everyone knew this was bound to happen sometime! He was just too wild!"/P>
"At his age—playing Chicken, for God's sakes! And taking his girlfriend along, besides!" Uncle Buck Kelmann threw up a hand in bewildered disgust. "Way out there on Mill Road . . . no ambulance could've gotten to him in time, even if Krista had been able to call for one sooner!"
"Heard he staked that restored '76 Nova of his in the deal!" Teddy, a.k.a. Turdy, informed. "Didn't he realize he couldn't drive the thing dead! Noble of him to show 'em all the true color of bravery!" He gave a derisive snicker. "Gushing Red!"
Lanette groaned and looked ready to puke. She sent him a b
lack look, which he caught, since he was looking right over at us. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging I'd heard it. Turdy's a jerk.
How glad I was that Krista wasn't there to hear all this. She'd watched it all go down, unable to do a thing about it. Maybe I'd need a counselor too, if I'd had to witness anything so horrifying. Be left alone with a dying person . . . having to decide between staying with him and finding help.
No one ever considered how Matty must have been feeling about then. Had he known he was dying? Had he thought of us? Or had he been in too much pain to think at all? Or just plain out of it, which seemed likely. Even that, Krista had been unable to tell us. I'm not sure if I hoped, one day, she'd be able to or not. I'd like to think he didn't suffer too badly. Didn't have any trouble hoping the guys who'd egged him on were suffering in jail, though . . .
"How could anybody let someone bleed to death practically all by himself in the dead of night?" Aunt Becky demanded, wrathfully. "That poor girl! Frightened to death, I'll bet!"
Actually, it'd been about ten o'clock. But out there on Mill Road-a little used road favored by the daring for illegal drag races—it might as well have been the dead of night.
Answered Aunt Nedra, the Sweet and Gentle. "Well, you know that bunch! Matt had trouble with them before. They were always trying to get him to do daring things of one sort or another. The police say they apparently began mocking his racing accomplishments and when they challenged him, he lost his head and accepted."
"Well, that was Matt!" observed my cousin Wendy. "Maybe if it'd happened in winter he wouldn't've bled to death."
"Maybe so, but he'd've been alive now if he could've curbed his impulsiveness!" put in Great Grandfather Louis Kelmann, who carried a cane for appearances only-being in better shape than most of his great grandsons. "Cars aren't for playing such witless games! But you can't tell kids anything! They know it all! Ha! I did at his age! Yessir! I gave my old pop, and my mother, too, a scare every once a week! Still, I never thought he'd do anything like this! Especially not in front of a woman—except maybe Joleigh!"
"Well, then, no wonder Matty was a hellion, Pop Louis! In any case, no one should hold anything against Mitch and Lynore!" Aunt Nedra pointed out. "Matty was of age after all!"
"One of us should've stepped in and took a hand with that kid! Slapped up Mitch and Lynore, and made them see the storm coming!" Aunt Dorene uttered with deep-seated conviction. "Probably isn't going to end with him!"
"Oh, like she cares so deeply!" Lanette uttered disparagingly—but not so's anyone but I could hear her, of course.
Aunt Dorene, Mom's youngest sister and Crown Princess of The Club, had the annoying habit of proclaiming, "Don't any of you call on me to baby-sit! I'm not single to be anybody's Mary Poppins!"
As if anyone would really want to leave their defenseless children in her care. I think her self-centered stupidity is the only thing all of us cousins agreed on. Except for Turdy, who's just like her.
Still, I was fair. "Well, she did take us to The Newport Creamery!"
Lanette gave me a sour look. "Yeah, right. Once when we were about ten! What about all those times she planned family outings, but left our families out! Even now, she does it!"
"That's why they're called family 'outings'," I informed her.
She cracked an involuntary laugh despite her grief. "Don't, Joleigh! Don't get me started. I won't be able to stop!"
"Oh, heinous! Think what they'd say then! How dare you laugh like an idiot at your brother's wake?" I altered my voice. "But-it's just like Mitch and Lynore to let her stick with Joleigh-Anna at a time like- "
"Jo-leigh!" Lanette cut off my imitation of Aunt Willa and bit her lips hard to keep from losing it altogether.
Was nerves, you know. She'd break into giggles if a tiger was about to rip her to shreds. Which pretty much described the members of The Club. This affliction had gotten her into trouble at school, oh, tons of times. The worst was the time she got blamed for a fire in the girls' room trash basket. Someone else had tossed a butt in there, and it burst into flames just after Lanette had left. So since it was she who'd been last seen coming out of there . . .
So mortified she'd been about being accused, she just doubled over in guffaws, the tears streaming down her face. No one would believe her when she tried to explain she didn't smoke. First time for everything had been their response to that. They'd called me down to the office, I'm really not sure why. They didn't believe me either.
When her mom and dad walked into the principal's office half an hour later, she was still carrying on. She'd had fits of the giggles for three days after they'd suspended her. It all got sorted out--eventually. I couldn't imagine that it'd be any prettier if she broke up like that tonight!
But I couldn't help myself. The snide remarks just burst out without asking my permission.
"If that boy'd been my kid," boomed Aunt Willa, Dad's oldest sister and Empress of The Club, "I'd've curbed his wild ways! He'd be alive now!"
"Yes, chaining him to the cellar walls until he was sixty-five would keep him safe!"
"I'm gonna kill you!"
"No, no! If you kill me, you'll only start them on the theory that you did it so Irvy could be yours at last! Shame on you, but—perfectly understandable!"
She sucked in a gasp, not quite choking back the giggle, clasped her hand to her mouth, and turned to inspect the huge bouquet of peach roses right beside her. Noticing some of my uncles and one pair of our grandparents watching us, I swung around too, threw my arm around her, pretending to console her.
"Get a grip! We're being watched!"
Behind us, Aunt Wanda, the Grand Duchess of The Club, declared self righteously, "I hope JuliAnna and Jorden learn something from this experience . . .!"
"Oh, I'm sure they have! I know I have—haven't you?"
". . . because if they're not careful, that little Jarrett's going to be another Matthew Gorden Kelmann . . .!"
" . . . what an honor that would be!" I chirped at the same instant my aunt charged, " . . . what a shame that would be!"
"Joleigh! Quit!"
Recognizing she was in serious distress, I relented. "I'm sorry! Look, you want to move someplace else?"
"Where?" Lanette demanded with an emphatic gesture. "We're sardines in here already!" Then her eyes filled up again, and she ended, "I'm not moving! We cared about Matt; they didn't!"
We'd been standing close by Matt's casket since we'd first arrived. A little to the side, though, so we could be as out of the way as possible so others could come up and pay their respects. Every spare spot in the room was occupied. We could go outside, but that's where the smokers of the family were congregated. Didn't want to be out there. The air was bad enough right where we were.
Aunt Willa proceeded to sully it some more. "It's a wonder their hair isn't pure white! Mother's was at thirty-five because of Jorden and Mitchell! But then, nothing those kids hav
Meet The Characters--Everyone Else in the romance ebook
e ever done has ever fazed them! Such monsters they were back then! Why, they were always hiding on Tina, picking on her and making her feel so bad!"
"Well, that was the fun of it!" Lanette uttered darkly. "Besides—she was bad. Still is!"
"Personally," I continued, not able to let it alone, "I think our dads did Gram a favor! She looks much prettier with snow-white hair, don't you think? I think- "
A pair of hands settled, one upon Lanette's shoulder and one upon mine, at once startling us, yet making us stand very still. "You're going to give everyone the wrong impression, girls!" Gramma Kate Kelmann whispered in our ears.
Oh . . . busted! She's always been good about sneaking up on people-hearing what you didn't want her to! "Ah, Gram, they already have that!"
"Then change it. You've the power to do that!"
"What good would it do? They don't have the power to see you're not bald!"
Lanette snickered, and Gramma Kate gave her a playful shove. Then she patted my shoulder, saying, "Well, someday, I'll point that out to them! Although they are aware, there were moments when I had wanted to rip my hair out! Some of this is true, you know! Behave, both of you! Remember where you are!"
She moved away, and I said to Lanette, "Like we can forget?"
"Jorden and Mitchell were just like them, though-always teasing us to tears!" Aunt Willa bored on. She slapped a hand to her cheek, and then made a gesture. "They weren't teasing when they ran off with Lynore and JuliAnna Merriwether—remember Wanda? I bet you my best sweater they'd have children from Hell! Allying themselves with that family, how could it be otherwise! Although, as I say, Jace has managed to turn out fairly well." She gazed off to her left where our parents stood in a receiving line. "Lynore looks positively near collapse! Poor dear, I'll be so glad when this is over for her!" As if it'd be all better tomorrow, like it all could be healed with just a kiss and a hug.
"So," Aunt Dorene looked ready to do some battle over the issue. "You're saying if I were to get married, my kids would be Children from Hell?"
"Don't you open those lips!" Lanette hurriedly warned me, just as I began to. She was already in a fair way to busting a gut, having an excellent idea of what I'd meant to say. Killed me to spare her, but I did.
Aunt Willa reached out to lay a hand on Dorene's arm. "Oh, my dear, you're so unlike them both that I forget you're related!" in a tone that left one wondering how she really meant that. Then in altogether a different one, she said, "I can't imagine why you're taking offense. You agree with us!"
"Well, she oughta recognize two faces when she sees 'em—she wears more than one herself!"
Lanette dug her fingers into my ribs, making me jump and give a little startled cry. Out of the corner of my eye I witnessed the look our aunts cast us. At once, we both about-faced to Matt's coffin. Pretended to be overcome with grief.
That quick it wasn't a pretense. Cold despair like fingers of icy mountain air touched my brain and numbed it. My heart, squeezed with pain, cried for mercy—and none was granted it. Seeing him lying there . . . knowing he'd never be with us again . . .
For a minute, I wanted to faint, but I fought it, breathing in deeply, struggling to stay with it. That'd be the last thing Lanette needed. She'd go to pieces and collapse herself. Wasn't what our parents needed to deal with right now, either. And then, of course, there'd be The Club . . .
So I clung to the corner edge of the coffin to keep myself upright. Fingering the frame of the photo of our win at Mt. Washington, I tried to focus my mind on it and the events of that day. From it, my gaze wandered to other mementos. Pictures of his favorite cars were arranged on tables among the bouquets nearby, pictures of the two of us in the Super Beetle after the Cherokee Trail race propped at his waist and a model of a 911 Porsche in his hands. The car he'd just bought with Irvy's help.
Krista's parents had come earlier and they'd tucked a picture of her and Matt down beside him. Such a waste! He and Krista had seemed so right for each other.
When Lanette began dating Dante Leighton, another friend of Matt and Irvy's, we joked about having a triple wedding. Only Jace remained unattached. I think that's another reason why The Club held him in such esteem. Such a chaste young man! Lanette and I, however, hadn't lost much sleep over knowing they believed we never had been. Although from time to time, we wondered if it was fair of us to be making liars of them all . . .
Lanette moved closer. Reaching out, she touched Matt. Her fingers suddenly grasped the fabric of his suit, and she gave him a rough little shake. Rough, as if it would bring him back, little, because she knew it wouldn't. Too, there was a good deal of resentment in her eyes-resentment that he'd done something so idiotically stupid. Something that'd left her brotherless.
I couldn't touch him. If I touched him, I'd lose it for sure, and quicker than hipless Aunt Wanda lost her flowered bikini in the thundering waves at the beach every year! Which would start that chain reaction mentioned earlier . . .
As guests arrived, they trekked up to say goodbye in their individual manner, hugged us quick, uttering a few words of condolence. They'd then made their way down the mourning line, commiserating with the family. Some stayed with them, others went off to join another group elsewhere.
Still others simply weren't very good at this sort of thing. After the obligatory hug and a mumbled "Sorry!" they fled the funeral home. I wished I could. My whole being felt as tense as a giant coiled spring. One that wanted to let loose and bounce all over the place. I just wanted this to be over. Wanted to be alone to sort it all out.
Or, no—no, I wanted Matt to get up out of there and laugh his face off, like it was all a big joke. Wanted him to tell everyone just what he thought of them. Shock 'em all worse than he'd ever shocked 'em before! We'd yak at him for having scared us so bad, but then we'd praise his awesome audacity and go celebrate it with a pizza.
It'd be the prank of the century! Totally worthy of him!
Ah, but his roguish laugh we'd only hear on family movies from now on . . . An echo in memory.
I had just made this miserably sad observation to Lanette when jumbo arms separated us, clamping us in a smothering, perfumed embrace. "Well, Joleigh-Anna, Lanette," Aunt Willa said in her disapproving, yet patronizing tone, "if you've learned something by this unfortunate accident, his death won't be completely for nothing! He had his whole life ahead of him! So very sad! Such a pretty young lady he'd found for himself, too!" Heaving one of her gusty sighs, she tightened her hold on us for an instant. About broke our ribs. "But he's in a better place now, so I suppose we shouldn't speak harshly of him."
As if she'd ever actually stop!
I must've worn a look that revealed my feelings in a more comical way then I knew. For Lanette met my gaze across Aunt Willa's ample bosom and immediately hid her face in it and succumbed to the giggles again. Aunt Willa clucked in her mock sympathetic way, begging her not to cry so hard.
Her clumsy consolations to Lanette finally got to be more than I could listen to without squirming. I was ready to scream, "Shut up! Will you just shut up! Yes, he's dead, but nothing's ever going to make us miss him less!"
