A Walk Along the Beach(78)

A small laugh followed. The thing was, I could envision that scene myself. Harper had never been one to sit still for long. It helped to think of her with her toned body, healthy and happy, free from the cancer that had taken her from us. It was the image I chose to hold in my mind.

At the end of the service, we headed to the community center for the wake, where lunch would be served.

Dad, Lucas, and I stood in the doorway and greeted each person who came through, thanking them for their love and support. Joelle, Leesa, and Carrie took over in the kitchen, along with several ladies from the church. Chantelle and John stayed close by in case we needed anything.

We hugged, wept, and were consoled. No one could ever doubt how deeply Harper had impacted our small town.

Dr. Annie and Keaton were among the last to come through the door. Annie hugged me and expelled a deep breath. “I never thought it’d come to this,” she whispered.

“Me, neither.” Until the very end, I’d wanted to believe Harper would survive, and I knew she did, too.

“You’re a good sister, Willa. She adored you.”

Hearing someone I respected as much as Annie say that brought a fresh batch of tears to my eyes. We hugged each other long and hard.

    Keaton, always a man of few words, stood awkwardly behind his wife. “Sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I said, and impulsively hugged him. He was a huge man, and I knew he found my display of affection surprising, yet he returned my embrace and gently patted my back.

Preston followed behind Keaton. I knew the two couples were the best of friends. To my surprise, his wife, Mellie, was with him. She rarely went anywhere when crowds of people were present. For years she’d felt trapped inside her home, afraid to venture out. Only after she’d fallen in love with Preston had she felt comfortable enough to leave the house.

After shaking Dad’s and Lucas’s hands, Preston hugged me and whispered, “Come see me next week?”

“What for?”

“You need a comfort dog.”

I should have suspected he had an ulterior motive. As the head of the animal shelter, he was always looking for good homes.

“My apartment complex doesn’t allow pets,” I reminded him. I didn’t mention that I would likely need to move, unless I found a roommate. Frankly, living with a stranger didn’t appeal to me.

When we finished with the reception line, Sean approached with a plate of food. “Eat something,” he urged.

The gesture was thoughtful, but I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

I sincerely wished he’d stop. His gentle care hurt nearly as much as his absence had earlier.

Rather than get involved in a discussion regarding my eating habits, I was grateful to see that many guests were starting to leave. Pastor McDonald spoke with Dad and Lucas, and I saw Dad nod. He glanced my way, letting me know it was time for us to head to the cemetery.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, escaping Sean.

    The grave site was prepared, a tent covering the open hole where the casket would be lowered. I knew Dad had expected it would be him who would be laid to rest next to Mom, and not one of his children.

Cars lined the narrow roadway closest to the grave site. As we gathered around, John stood at my side, his arm around my shoulders. I felt his sadness as keenly as my own. How we had hoped for a different outcome. How we had prayed and planned and sought a miracle.

For weeks, I had desperately asked God to heal my sister. My faith was much larger than a mustard seed. I had an avocado-sized faith. And when I was forced to accept that there would be no miracle, my faith was shaken off its foundation. I was angry with God. Angry with the world. Hurting and bitterly disappointed.

Then my thoughts wandered to the eulogy, and my decision to remember Harper as healthy and whole in heaven now, putting together a yoga class.

Pastor McDonald stood at the grave site, read several passages from the Bible, bowed his head, and said a final prayer.

It was finished. Now we were left to carry on.

Without Harper.

Those who’d assembled started to walk back to their cars. The funeral home had provided a vehicle to drive us back into town. I knew Lucas and Chantelle and John needed to return to Seattle.

Dad came to Lucas and me. “Son, I need you to take Chantelle and Willa back home.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Lucas asked, and seemed as puzzled as I was. He looked to me for an explanation, but I had none.

“Not yet,” Dad said. “I’m staying.”

I hadn’t a clue what Dad was thinking.

“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked, concerned.

Our father placed a hand on each of our shoulders. “I’m not going to let a backhoe bury my daughter. I’m going to do it myself.”

    “Oh Daddy.” I hurled myself into his arms, overcome with love for my father and his tender heart.

“You don’t need to do it alone,” Lucas said. “I’ll join you.”

“As will I,” John added.

Everyone had left, or so I believed, until I saw Sean walking across the cemetery, with the man I could only assume was the groundskeeper. In his hands were four shovels.