Last Another Day (23 page)

Julianne looked both beautiful and frail in her black dress, her hair done in an elegant twist that exposed her slender neck. She stared at Morgan's grave without a tear in sight, grieving silently for the daughter she’d lost and the grandchild that would never be born.

In the few days he’d known her, Breytenbach had come to love and admire her. She had a quiet strength, a grace that appealed to him. He was too old, he reckoned, for an exciting, passionate relationship. All he wanted was the faithful love and loyalty of a partner he could come home to every night.

He had not shown Julianne how he felt, though. Not yet. It was too soon, and she had lost too much these past days and weeks. For now, he would just be there for her when she needed him. He would be her rock in these times of uncertainty.

At her side, a tearful Meghan stood, clinging onto her mother's leg. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the grave. This was a terrible and confusing tragedy for them both and Breytenbach's heart ached for them.

He looked at Samantha, squirming in his arms and reflected that even though they had all lost so much, they still had each other. He had found his family at last and he knew that he would protect them with his dying breath.

The rhythmic thuds of dirt hitting Morgan's shroud, sounded awfully loud in the late afternoon air. The whole world was quiet, as though it too attended her funeral, a funeral upon which Breytenbach had insisted.

He knew that in these times, the biggest mistake they could all make would be to lose their humanity. They needed to do this, needed to remember their loved ones and honor their passing, even when all they wanted to do was forget.

Max stood beside his mother, grieving for the sister that had been so close to him, almost like a twin. Mike swayed in the wind drunk already, half supported by the long-suffering Ronnie, but for once, Breytenbach didn't mind. If he didn't have so many responsibilities, he'd be drunk too. Lenka, who didn't enjoy funerals, had volunteered to stand guard during the event.

Of them all perhaps, Big Ben was the worst off. He had now lost all four of the people he had viewed as his own children and was a broken shadow of his former self. His eyes were lost, swiveling around without focus while his mouth worked soundlessly.

Breytenbach stared at the surrounding faces. He had met them only a few days ago and yet, now they were part of a whole, a community of kindred souls bound together in loss and suffering. But also triumph.

He knew their stories as they knew his and he felt a surge of affection for them. They would live, he decided. Live and prosper in this new world. He would make sure of that. He would do for them what he couldn't do for all the others before.

The quiet drone of Dave's voice filled the air as he recited Psalm 23 from the battered, pocket Bible he always carried with him. It had been Morgan's favorite.

The words whispered through the air, offering hope and absolution, filling them all with a bittersweet sadness. Except Logan. Since his return, he had not said a word nor looked at anyone.

Nobody had dared to ask what happened to Angie. They could all see her fate etched in his features. There had been no mercy for her.

Breytenbach knew that the deed itself would change Logan forever. A man cannot kill with such cold-blooded cruelty and not have it stain his soul with the act, no matter how justified.

It would follow him like a shadow, haunt his dreams and whisper in his ears. Breytenbach knew this for he himself was haunted by past deeds. Deeds that would stay with him until his last breath.

The old Logan was gone. He looked like a man fashioned of steel. No emotion could be seen in those hard, gray eyes and Breytenbach wondered what he would do next. For a man to have nothing, only to find everything then lose it was a hard, hard thing.

When the last shovelful of dirt covered the grave, Logan turned and walked away. Breytenbach watched as he climbed into his old Land Rover and pulled away leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

Knowing that there was nothing anybody could say or do to make it better, Breytenbach let him go. Perhaps, in time, the wounds on Logan's heart would heal.

After the service, Breytenbach put his arm around Julianne and led her and Meghan away, taking them somewhere they could grieve in peace.

Sam was the only one who seemed oblivious to the atmosphere. A monarch butterfly flitted past her face, brushing across her baby-soft skin and she giggled, pudgy hands swinging in the air.

Her childish laughter prompted smiles from Julianne and Meghan. As the sun set, Breytenbach felt sure there would be another. Days filled with sorrow, perhaps, but also joy and happiness.

We will last another day.