Page 54 of Little Pieces of Light

Emery

The morning of Dean Yearwood’s funeral dawned bright and warm.

A beautiful day that didn’t match the sorrow of the hundreds of people who turned up at St. Catherine’s Catholic Church.

I thought the brilliant weather was fitting in a terrible sort of way.

Dean had been a literal ray of sunshine wherever he went, and I had to think he was smiling down on us, trying to tell us not to be so sad.

The eulogies were all of the same theme: how Dean was truly good a person, how exceptionally kind and funny he was, and how he always had a smile for everyone.

Missing, I thought, was any idea why he would take something that stole him away from us.

What pressures he might have been facing or what unseen battles he’d been waging, alone.

Finally, toward the end of the service, Xander took the podium.

“Everybody loved Dean,” he began, his voice hoarse.

“This church can’t hold all the people who loved him.

And it wasn’t just his charisma or humor.

It’s because he loved everybody. He had the rare ability to see the best in people without judgment.

He accepted them. I don’t have that ability.

Most of us don’t. But we all felt it from him.

We loved him because it’s extraordinary to be seen like that. And now, to lose that…”

He stopped, tears streaming under his glasses, his hands clenched on the lectern.

“If there’s a point to any of this, maybe it’s to follow Dean’s example.

To love people while they’re here and not wait to understand the depth of them only when they’re gone.

It’s a terrible lesson but maybe the only way we’ll learn.

” Xander swallowed hard and looked at the coffin draped in white. “I’ll try, Dean. I promise.”

***

I walked with Harper from the church to the graveside service.

Dean’s mother and father—her in a faded black dress, him in a shabby dark blue suit—sat on the front row, both looking shell-shocked and frail.

Father Doyle gave the service, punctuated by the audience’s sniffles and muffled sobs.

The entire school had come—the entire town, even.

“So many people,” Harper murmured, gazing around at the crowd. “So many…”

My gaze found Xander, standing with his crew in the front.

They were all there except for Rhett. I didn’t have all the details, but the police had spoken to him that night based on what Xander had seen, and nothing conclusive came of it.

Rhett’s father was CEO of LaneBreak Records; I guessed he’d pulled every string he had to make sure “inconclusive” was as far as any investigation got. Even so, Rhett was wisely staying away.

Throughout the service, my gaze strayed to Xander. He kept his head down, hands clasped in front of him. He had been a pallbearer at the church with the crew, hoisting the coffin onto his shoulders. He’d looked so stoic but so walled off too.

He doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

I dabbed my eyes, and the movement caught his attention. He looked up at me, his mask cracking for a moment, and the pain spilled out. Then he looked away. The service ended, and I lost him in the crowd, finding him again only when he was long gone, walking to his car, alone.

“Are you going to the reception?” Harper asked. “I don’t know if I can stand it, but I think I will. I need to talk to his parents. I need to tell them…” Tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” I gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled gratefully, and then a shadow fell over us.

“Hey,” Tucker said. “Can I talk to you, Em?”

The last time I’d spoken to Tucker was back in November. He’d sent me an apologetic text for leaving me in the rain. I suspected Xander was behind that, but he refused to confess if he was.

“Um, sure.” I stepped aside with Tucker as mourners ambled around us. “I’m very sorry about Dean. He was one of the best.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said gruffly. “Yeah, he was.” He looked terrible, his eyes red-rimmed and shadowed. He cleared the emotion out of his throat. “So listen, Em, has your dad brought around the Harringtons? The new senator?”

I nodded. “We had dinner with them the same night as…the same night. The son is a real creep.”

“He’s a lot worse than that,” Tucker said. “Colton has a podcast where he talks about how women being in the workforce has destroyed society and how we need to get back to the ‘pre–birth control’ era. Really weird shit.”

I smiled wanly. “I didn’t take you for a feminist.”

Tucker wasn’t smiling. “I’m serious, Em. He’s one of those bitter little fuckers who hates women because he can’t get laid. And based on my experience, your dad isn’t going to give a shit about that when it comes to getting what he wants.”

My face paled. “No, I can’t believe he’d—”

“Pawn you off for profit?” Tucker shook his head. “Just be careful, okay?”

I nodded faintly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Tucker hesitated a moment and then bent to give me an awkward hug just as Elowen appeared. She gave me a pitying look, linked her arm in his, and led him away.

***

After the reception in the church parish hall, Harper said she wasn’t feeling well and went home.

It was obvious Xander wanted some space, so I drove home, too, with a new sense of dread in my gut.

My dad had gone from demanding I go to college to not talking about it at all. And the night at the Chart House…

This is a very important dinner…

I shivered and went to the side door. I heard the shouting before I even stepped inside. Jack’s bellows and my father’s sharp exclamations. Dad hardly ever raised his voice, which made it more frightening. In the kitchen, Belinda was stirring something in a bowl and crying.

“Oh, Miss Emery…”

“What’s happening?”

I raced to the living room, where Mom was standing between Jack and my father. Jack—still in all black—had a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and one finger stabbing the air at my dad.

“ I’m the degenerate?” Jack screamed. “You’re the one who killed your son! You’re the one who has to live with what you’ve done for the rest of your miserable life!”

“Put that bag down,” Dad shouted. “You are not to leave this house with one item. Everything you own belongs to me.”

“Bullshit!” Jack cried. “This is my bag. I paid for everything in it myself and you know what? It doesn’t matter how much stuff you hoard, or how much money you make, it will never bring him back!”

“Jack, please,” Mom begged. Then she saw me. “Emery…”

Jack spun around. “I’m done, Emery. I’m getting out. And if you’re smart, you will too.”

My gaze went between them. “What? No, Daddy, don’t kick him out—”

“Kick me out?” Jack snarled. “I wouldn’t stay if you paid me.”

“Never mind, Emery, let him go,” Dad said. “If he wants to walk away from millions—no, billions—then that’s his foolish mistake to make.”

“Is that how much Grant cost?” Jack cried, his voice breaking. He turned to me. “You know he didn’t just happen to walk in front of a train, right?”

My mother sank into a chair. “Jack, don’t.”

“All that bullshit they’ve been feeding us for years. He didn’t have his fucking music on too loudly and then accidentally step in front of anything. He did it on purpose.”

I felt as if the floor was falling out beneath me. “What…?”

“You shut your mouth,” Dad bellowed, his face red.

“Grant killed himself,” Jack cried, “rather than spend one more fucking minute trapped in the box you locked him in.”

But I’d always known, somehow. I just didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to believe. I shook my head, tears falling. “No…”

“ Yes ,” Jack said, tears streaking his own cheeks. “That’s what happens if you step out of line. If you want something for yourself. Emery, come with me. Walk out the door right now.”

“I-I can’t. Where…?”

“Do not move, Emery,” Dad said. “She is not as stupid as you, Jack. She is a young girl who will not survive on her own.”

Colin appeared at the door. “Time to go, Mr. Jack,” he intoned.

Jack moved toward the front door. “Last chance, Em. Come with me.”

“Wh-where are you going?”

“He doesn’t know,” Dad said, calmer now. “He has no plan. No future. He’s going to live on the streets, giving blowjobs for five dollars apiece. Is that what you want, Emery?”

I didn’t know what I wanted, but it wasn’t this. I wanted Jack to stay. I wanted my mother to stop crying and my father to stop shouting. I wanted us to be happy, and it was slipping through my fingers. And it hurt, almost more than anything else, to know that I wasn’t enough to hold us together.

Jack shook his head, his voice low. “You’re going to regret it, Em. He’ll give you millions, but that’ll be nothing compared to what it’ll cost you.”

Then he walked out, the door slammed, and then the only sound was my mother’s sobs.