MAGGIE
I didn’t wear black. There would be enough black. Enough sadness. I didn’t remember much about my mother’s funeral. The only thing I did remember was the black. I hated all the black. My mother hated black. She said it was drab. Everyone needed some color in their life.
Jude wouldn’t have liked all the black either. He’d liked to laugh, and he’d looked for the brightness in life. I chose a green dress that matched my eyes. Because he’d said my eyes were pretty.
Uncle Boone, Aunt Coralee, Brady, and I all rode together to the graveside ceremony. Most funerals in the South were held in churches or funeral homes before they took the casket to the grave. But West said his dad hadn’t wanted a long ceremony for people to mourn. He wanted it quick. Easy. Nothing fancy.
We parked along the street like everyone else and then made our way to the large white tent where people were beginning to gather. I searched for West until our eyes met. He was standing by his mother, watching me walk toward him. Today would be the day it would finally become real to him.
My mother’s funeral hadn’t been when it had sunk in for me, simply because I hadn’t been well then. My mind had been refusing to accept what I had witnessed. But I knew seeing his father lowered into the ground would hit West hard. And I would be there if he needed me.
West motioned for me to come stand beside him. I didn’t glance back at my aunt and uncle to make sure it was okay. I knew they’d understand. I walked past the rows of people until I was close enough for West to take my hand in his. The firm grip told me he wasn’t okay.
“I like your dress,” he said, leaning down to whisper near my ear. “It matches your eyes.”
I glanced up at him. “Your dad liked my eyes. He said they were pretty.”
A sad smile touched his lips. “Yeah, he did. He’d like that dress, too.”
Others arrived and came to say their condolences to West and his mother. Through it all he never let go of my hand. When the minister began speaking, West’s mother sank into the chair placed behind her and sobbed quietly.
I could feel West tremble beside me when it was time for him to lay the rose on his father’s casket. I eased my hand out of his and waited as he walked forward and put the red rose down. “You’ll always be my hero,” he said, loud enough that I could hear him, as he stared at the casket.
When he turned and walked back to me, I could see the tense expression on his face. He was holding back the emotion I knew was strangling him while trying to stay strong for his mother.
His hand was back in mine the moment he was beside me.
I didn’t hear much that was said after that. I was too focused on West and the rigid way he was standing. It was as if he’d turned to stone. His grip on my hand was like he was holding on to me for fear I’d run off.
I was okay with that. I didn’t intend to leave him.
As the casket began to lower into the grave, West inhaled sharply, and his mother stood up and grabbed on to his arm, leaning into him. He wrapped his arm around his momma and held her against him.
Slowly, people began to leave. Some came by and patted West on the back and said something to his mother, but it was all very quiet. Brady, Asa, Nash, Gunner, and Ryker all walked up and stood behind West. Each one squeezed his shoulder and said things like, “I’m here if you need me, man,” and “Love you, bro,” and “You need me, call me.”
West nodded and acknowledged all of them. Each one also stopped and hugged Olivia, which only made her cry more. Once they were done, they all slowly walked away. I didn’t know what West wanted me to do, but I knew my aunt and uncle were waiting on me.
I looked up at him. “I’ll stay if you need me.”
He glanced over at his mother, then back at me. “Can you get out tonight?”
I could do whatever he wanted me to do. I nodded.
“I’ll be at the bottom of the ladder at eleven.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
There was a knock on my bedroom door around ten that night. I knew my aunt and uncle were already in bed, so the only person it could be was Brady. I had stayed up here the rest of the day and tried to read. But my mind had been on West and his mother. If he needed me and called, I wanted to be alone so I could answer him.
Opening the door to Brady, I stared up at him curiously. He never came to my room. He barely even tried talking to me anymore. I couldn’t blame him. It was hard to talk to someone who didn’t talk back.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I nodded, stepping back so he could come in. Again, something he never did. I knew this was about West. I imagined Brady had been worrying about him today too. It was hard not to after the last few days.
Brady walked in, his hands tucked into his front pockets, looking unsure of what to do or say.
“Mom and Dad are asleep, but sound travels down that hall. Could you close the door?” he asked.
I did as he asked.
“I saw you talk to him today. I thought I saw it before, but I definitely know I saw it today.”
I had expected this, eventually. Although I had tried not talking to him where people could see, there were times like today when I hadn’t worried about anything other than comforting West.
I didn’t reply. What did he want me to say? Did he expect me to admit it and talk to him? Because that would change everything. Tomorrow I’d have to face a life where people expected me to talk. They’d invade my privacy and want to know things I didn’t want to tell them.
Not talking was my security blanket. I wasn’t ready to let it go.
“I didn’t see it once, Maggie. I saw it several times. And I’ve seen it at school. You don’t always move your mouth, but West is listening to you. I can tell by his expression.” Brady sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not here to demand that you talk to me. Or anyone. I’m just . . . I’m confused. If you can talk, why wouldn’t you talk to everyone? Why just West?”
He was asking questions. Questions he wanted me to answer with my voice. But I wouldn’t talk, not tonight. I walked over to get the note pad on my window seat. I wrote:
He needs me. I understand him and his pain.
Then I handed the pad to Brady.
He read it then lifted his eyes back to me. “So, this is your connection. This is why he’s with you all the time and he’s all of the sudden holding your hand and acting like he needs you to breathe. He wasn’t lying about you just being friends. You’re helping him deal with all . . . this.”
I nodded.
Brady looked relieved. He held the note pad out for me. “I get it. But one day you’ll need to focus on helping you. Hiding from the world this way isn’t healthy. You’re not healing. You’re avoiding.”
No, I was protecting myself. I didn’t write that down, though. I just stood and waited for him to leave or say something else.
My phone dinged, and I reached into my pocket for it.
I’m outside. Waiting on you at the bottom of the ladder.
He was here. I glanced at the window then back at Brady.
“He’s out there, isn’t he?” Brady said, following my gaze to the window.
I could lie, but I trusted Brady. He loved West too.
So I nodded.
He gave me a sad smile. “Be careful, Maggie.”
He had said that before. Many times. I had told myself that too. But it no longer seemed to matter. I was past the point of being careful where West was concerned, and I didn’t know how to fix that. Or if I even wanted to.
I waited until he’d left my room then closed the door behind him and hurried to the window to climb out.
