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crowd. I saw how Troy's eyes followed Luke's hand as

it grasped mine. Troy watched us in a most peculiar

way, his eyes growing smaller, his face darkening. He

nodded gently to himself and then turned to hear the

clergyman's words.

Drake delivered a short eulogy afterward,

describing Tony as a pioneer businessman whose

imagination tapped new markets and created an

entirely new industry. I was impressed with how

experienced and knowledgeable he appeared. He

looked years and years older, and I thought Tony had

been right about him--he was executive material. The clergyman then asked everyone to sing the

hymn written on the cards we were all given. During

the hymn my eyes shifted from Tony's monument to

my parents' monument. Graveyards have a way of

making all life's struggles seem simple and meaningless, I thought. All family squabbles die and are

buried here, too: Jillian's madness, Tony's lusts and

confused passions, my grandmother Leigh's flight

from who she was, my mother's frustrated and lost

love . . . all of it was put to rest. Only those of us who

remained had to struggle still.

For a long moment Troy and I looked at each other, and I think he knew I understood why he would want to ride into the ocean that fateful day. He looked from me to Luke and back to me. As soon as the hymn ended and the clergyman said his final words,

Troy turned to us.

"Won't the two of you come to my cottage for a

&n

bsp; little something to eat and drink before you start

back?"

"I'd like that," Luke replied. I simply nodded. I

looked for Drake, but he was busy greeting business

ssociates, shaking hands and discussing actions to be