I hate funerals.
As an Army Ranger, I’ve attended my fair share, and if I can go the rest of my life without seeing another flag-draped coffin, I’d be more than happy.
Then again, the dark wooden box before me is draped in flowers rather than a flag. An aged woman smiles back at me from a large framed photograph, her silver hair pulled up in a bun, her hazel eyes bright with joy.
All I feel is pain.
Grief.
We may not have been family, and I may not have known her more than a few years, but Edna Montgomery was as good a woman as they come. I’d helped her carry groceries to her car, and she’d practically adopted me as a surrogate grandson. I’d been surly when we first met, jaded by the horrors I'd seen on deployment, and she’d refused to let me keep being bitter.
Now, she’s gone. Heaven has gained an angel, but I lost mine.
“Mrs. Montgomery was a staple in this town,” Pastor Redding says sadly. “She was a shining light, the kindest woman any of us have ever met.”
All around me, people cry. Mrs. McGinley—the town’s librarian and Edna’s best friend—sniffles beside me. Reaching out, I cover her hand with mine.
“She never had a negative thing to say about anyone, and I think we can all agree that her s’more cookies were the best ones around.”
“In the world!” Michael, my co-worker and brother in everything but blood, calls out.
People mutter in agreement.
“I know we’re all hurting, but take solace in knowing this is not the last time we will see our sister. For we will walk alongside her in heaven.” He bows his head. “Let us pray. Dear God, thank You for the time we were blessed to know Edna here on earth. Thank You for blessing us with every moment spent. Every laugh
shared. Please, God, be with her family and close friends as they mourn, comfort them in their pain with the knowledge that she is with You. Amen.”
“Amen,” I mutter alongside everyone else in the pews.
“There is another service at the gravesite, and we hope to see you there. Thank you all for coming.” He steps down, and everyone stands, lining up on the side of the church to greet the dark-haired beauty standing near the coffin.
From the research I did after moving to Hope Springs, I know she is Andie Montgomery—Edna’s granddaughter. She moved away after she turned eighteen and started a fashion company in New York. While we’ve never met, Edna spoke about her non-stop. Raving about her brilliant granddaughter.
Even when she’d been lying in the hospital bed, so weak she could hardly keep her eyes open, she’d begged me to watch over Andie.
Frankly, I don’t care much for the woman who couldn’t even be bothered to visit her grandmother on Christmas.
I skip the line, choosing instead to head back to my apartment and catch up on emails.
“How are you doing?” Eliza Knight, the wife to my boss and the man I served under in the
Army, asks as she steps into my path, Lance right beside her.
“Fine,” I reply. It’s far from the truth, but I’ll get there. It’s not like death is a stranger to me.
“Edna was an amazing woman,” Eliza says.
“She was,” I reply with a smile then turn to Lance. “I’m going to head home and check on a
few things, then I’m headed to the office. You going to be in today?”
“Later,” he replies. “We’re going to head to the cemetery then the wake. You’re not coming?”
“Nope. No need to. I said my goodbyes when she was in the hospital.” Edna had a heart attack and had fallen in the shower. The paramedics called me first since I was her emergency contact, so I was with her right before she died. I was the one who called Andie and let her know, the one she hung up on when I offered to help plan the service.
So, no. Spending any time with Andie Montgomery in any capacity is something I am just not interested in.
“Are you sure?” Eliza questions. “You can ride with us.”
Because I can see that she’s worried about me, I plaster on a smile then lean in and kiss her noisily on the cheek. “I’m fine, I promise. See you both at the diner later?”
“Absolutely.” Lance waves, and he and Eliza head toward the line while I slip outside.
Rain drizzles down on me, but I pay it little notice as I head to the parking lot of the church. The moment I turn the corner, I stop, freezing in place. Andie is leaned against the car parked next to mine, eyes closed, face tilted up toward the sky.
Great.
Hoping she doesn’t notice as I slip by, I unlock my car and reach for the door.
“You’re Elijah Breeth.”
I stop and turn. “Yes.”
“We spoke on the phone.” Very cut and dried, matter of fact.
“We did.” I open the door to my car.
“My grandmother adored you.”
“I felt the same for her.”
“She talked about you all the time.”
“Same.” I cross my arms. “Is there something you need?”
She narrows her gaze on me, piercing green eyes that might as well be emeralds for the color and lack of emotion. “You don’t like me.”
“I don’t know you,” I reply. “Difficult to not like someone when you don’t know anything
about them.”
“According to my gran, you knew everything about everyone.” Her tone leaves no room for a rebuttal, so I cross my arms.
“Fine. Miss Andie Montgomery. Fashion icon out of New York. Never been married. No long-term relationships to speak of. Couldn’t be bothered to visit her grandmother once in the few years that I knew the woman. How am I doing?”
Most people will look at least mildly uncomfortable when you spout out facts about their lives. But this woman doesn’t even flinch.
“Congratulations on being a fantastic cyber stalker. I’ve been busy. My gran knew that. And our visiting schedule is none of your business.”
Her cool tone infuriates me. “You’re right. My mistake.”
"Are you coming to the cemetery?” she questions.
“Nope. Good day, Miss Montgomery.” I climb into my car and pull out of the parking lot before she can wave me down.
Everything about Andie is in contrast to her grandmother.
She’s cold.
Unfeeling.
Edna was the warmest, most loving woman I’ve ever known.
And as much as it pains me to admit it, I hope to never, ever have to cross paths with her granddaughter again. Even though the woman begged me to look after Andie right before she died.
Sorry, Edna, I think this might just be the one promise I have to break.
