Missing Pieces(65)
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow. The clothes that Sarah had bought for him to wear didn’t quite fit. The shirt cuffs were too long and the hem of his pants hung to the floor, the fabric pooling around his ankles.
“Did you get a chance to talk to Amy today?” she asked.
“Just for a few minutes.” He adjusted the knot in his tie. “She insists she has no idea where the bale hook came from, says that Dean was the one who brought it over in a box filled with other things.”
“Do you believe her?” Sarah asked, resisting the urge to help him with his tie. A small gesture she would have gladly performed just a few days before. Now she could barely look at him.
“I want to,” he said as they entered through a side door where the funeral director was waiting to escort them to the viewing room. “But right now everything’s pointing to Amy.” Situated throughout the room were dozens of pictures of Julia. Pictures of her as a baby in her baptism dress, as a child in a First Communion dress, as a young woman in her wedding dress. There were pictures of Julia with Hal and Dean through the years. Jack paused in front of one of the pictures and lingered for a long moment.
Once he moved on Sarah lagged behind to get a better look. It was a picture of Julia with Jack’s mother, their arms linked, beaming smiles on their faces. It looked as if it was taken at a family celebration, a birthday or graduation, maybe. They looked content, as if all was perfect in their worlds. Unexpectedly, there were also several pictures of Amy with Julia. Generous, Sarah thought, since Amy was sitting in jail for Julia’s murder. She was sure that Celia had a hand in making sure that Amy was included.
The casket Hal had chosen for Julia was a simple stained cherrywood casket, handmade in Dubuque. He had chosen a closed casket for Julia due to her many injuries. “I just wish I could see her one more time,” he kept saying over and over to anyone who would listen.
“I’m sure the funeral director can arrange that for you,” Sarah said, trying to console him. “I bet they do that all the time.”
The funeral director lined them just to the right of the casket that was surrounded with dozens of bouquets of flowers sent by friends and family: irises and roses, mums, ferns, potted plants and a small tree to plant in Julia’s memory.
Soon Sarah was shaking hands and accepting hugs from complete strangers who all had one thing in common: they had adored Julia. Such a sweet soul, one elderly woman said, holding on to Sarah’s hand for a long time. A good, good woman, said another.
The line seemed to stretch on forever. It extended the length of the large viewing room and snaked out a door and around a corner. Sarah felt a hand on her arm and she turned back to see Margaret, dressed all in black and accompanied by a woman with the same stalwart stature and red hair, who Sarah assumed was Margaret’s mother.
“Jack Tierney,” Margaret said softly. “Is that really you? I haven’t seen you since you were a boy.”
Jack squinted, trying to put a name to the face. “It’s Margaret McDowell,” Margaret said. “Now Margaret Dooley. You don’t remember me? I babysat you and Amy.”
“Of course,” Jack said, “Of course I remember you and your mother.” Jack turned to the elderly woman and embraced her. “Vivienne, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Jack.” The woman’s lips trembled with emotion. “I miss your mother every single day.”
“I miss her, too.” Jack blinked back the moisture that was collecting in his eyes. “Vivienne, Margaret, this is my wife, Sarah,” he said, clearing his throat.
Sarah extended her hand in greeting. “Margaret and I met the other day. Good to see you again,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.
“I’ve got kids now,” Jack said, pulling out his phone. “Elizabeth and Emma. They’re freshmen in college.” Jack showed her his screensaver, a picture of the girls standing on the shore of Larkspur Lake.
“Beautiful.” Vivienne smiled. “They have Lydia’s smile, I think.”
Sarah stepped out of line to get a bottle of water from the small room where the family kept their personal belongings. Margaret followed close behind.
“I have the box in the trunk of the car,” Sarah said quietly, unscrewing the lid from the bottle of water and taking a drink.
“I can get it after the wake,” Margaret said.
“I’ve just got to figure out a way to get away from the others,” Sarah said, taking a sip of her water.
“You could tell them you offered to help me take some of the food for the funeral over to the church basement,” Margaret suggested.
“That should work,” Sarah said, glad to know that she would be getting rid of the box soon. “Did you hear anything more about what’s going on at Hal’s?”
“Just that the crime-scene team from Des Moines brought a dog with them,” Margaret explained.
“A dog? Like a drug dog or search dog?” Sarah asked, taken aback. “Why would they do that?”
Margaret shrugged. “I don’t know. The sheriff didn’t say. He’s been trying to keep everything hush-hush so the newspaper doesn’t find out.”
Vivienne and Jack were still talking when Sarah stepped back into the receiving line. “So good to see you, Jackie,” Vivienne said, placing a gnarled hand on his cheek.