They were at the house on Royal Street; The Cheshire Cat was closed, and dinner was being served.
Natasha had cooked a Creole dinner for them, with shrimp and cheese grits, crawfish étoufée, red beans and rice, turnip greens and salad, and bread pudding for dessert.
Jenny had said she wasn’t about to cook, and that she didn’t want to see lasagna again as long as she lived.
They talked a lot about Eric; maybe they all even felt a little guilty, Danni thought.
Guilty that they really hadn’t known him. That they hadn’t remembered him. That they’d never recognized him as the boy looking on in the picture her father had taken so many years ago.
“Did we make him a monster? Or was he always one and we were just the excuse he gave himself for what he did?” Brad asked morosely.
“We were never mean,” Jenny protested.
“We just didn’t notice,” Tyler said. “And maybe that’s worse.”
Hattie had joined them, and she told them determinedly, “Don’t go taking blame on yourselves. We are all responsible, in the end, for our own actions.”
“Amen,” Father Ryan said.
“There’s another question we really do need to answer,” Quinn said.
“Where is the real sax?” Danni said.
“Well, I’ve been thinking. And thinking,” Amy said.
“And?” Danni asked her.
“There was a bag of Arnie’s things... He said that if anything ever happened, he wanted to be buried with them,” Amy said.
“But I thought he was playing the sax the night he was killed?” Tyler said.
“Maybe not. Maybe he was playing a different one. He owned several,” Amy said.
“You mean...”
“She means we buried our boy with a bag of his belongings, just like he asked,” Woodrow said.
“Oh,” Father Ryan said thoughtfully. “We could arrange to—to look,” he said. “Have another graveside service.”
Jessica spoke up immediately. “No! We are not tampering with Arnie’s grave.”
“No,” Tyler agreed. “A sax is a sax, and Arnie’s sax... If there was any magic, well, Arnie and the way he touched our lives with his music, that was the magic. He made the sax magic, not the other way around.”
“All right, then,” Woodrow said, looking at his wife and smiling. “We will not disturb the grave. Our new daughter says no.”
“And I agree,” Amy said.
“Then that’s that,” Quinn said. “Tonight we’ll remember him and all the magic that was his life, and we’ll thank God we all still have our own lives. It’s over.”
“Well,” Hattie said, “hold on. It’s not quite over.”
“Oh?” Quinn said.
“I have a plan to end this sad chapter on a happy note that honors Arnie quite nicely. If you’re all willing, of course.”
“Do tell,” Quinn said.
So she did.
Epilogue
THERE WERE TWO saxophones being played that day.
A few numbers had been chosen to allow for the bagpipes, as well. Billie was beyond delighted by that. He’d suggested that military men and women in attendance might enjoy the inclusion of the bagpipes, and the others had agreed.
The B-Street Bombers were together with a new member—a female lead singer with a voice like a lark.
Quinn was playing rhythm guitar; Danni was singing backup and performing two duets with Jessica, as well. Tyler, Gus, Shamus and Blake were playing music they knew like the backs of their hands, but still, the occasion was important and they were nervous.
It was probably, Danni thought, the best they had ever sounded.
She realized—glancing at Hattie, who sat with Natasha, Father Ryan, the Watsons, little Craig and Kevin Hart—that she might never know just what strings Hattie had pulled to arrange for the band to play at Walter Reed from 11:00 a.m. till 9:00 that night. Hattie was like a lovely fairy godmother.
She wasn’t a spring chicken, though, so it was a good thing the others were there, along with a host of Arnie’s old army buddies, to make sure she was comfortable and ride herd on Craig, who had learned that he could do more than walk, he could run. He was happy and laughing, and he was also perpetually all over the place. He kept the adults hopping, but none of them minded. He was a beautiful reminder of the past, of Arnie, and he was hope for all good things to come.
His smile was Arnie’s smile, and he had his mother’s faith that good things were everywhere.
Kevin Hart had obviously spread the word that they were coming, and that they were friends of Arnie’s. The cafeteria was full all day, and they were greeted with applause for every song. It was wonderful, but it was even more wonderful to see the way Jessica basked in the pride the Watsons showed in her.
They weren’t her parents, though they should have been her in-laws. But neither birth nor a piece of paper seemed to matter to them. They smiled at her and beamed with pride. She was the mother of their grandchild. She was family.
And they smiled just as proudly at Tyler as he played the sax.