But she hadn’t.
And still his words haunted her. If she didn’t discover why he’d said those words to her, they’d haunt her for the rest of her life.
She suddenly realized that everyone was silent, that Father McFey was looking at her. He’d finished with the ceremony, and everyone was waiting for her.
She held the folded American flag that had draped his coffin, since he’d seen military service in two wars, and a single rose. She was supposed to drop the rose on the coffin, allow others to do the same thing and officially end the burial of a man who had become an icon.
It seemed that half of Savannah had come out for the occasion. They needed to get back to their lives.
She needed to figure out how to organize hers.
She walked over to the coffin, which still sat above the ground; they wouldn’t lower it into the earth until she and the rest of the mourners were gone.
The soprano from Gus’s church was singing “Amazing Grace” as they finished and Abby was aware that Macy—and several other people—were sniffing and trying to hold back sobs.
Abby didn’t cry; she’d cried herself out over the past week. She stood and touched the coffin and spoke to him within her own mind.
Thank you, Gus. Love you, Gus. Thank you for loving me the way you did. You will always be a part of me, with me. I will never forget you....
She set her rose on the coffin and stepped back, gazing into the crowd. As she’d expected, Blue Anderson was there, across from the coffin, a little to the left, behind Gus’s old cronies—Bootsie, Dirk and Aldous. The men had dressed in their best suits for the occasion. But even in their tailored and proper attire, they looked like pirates. Bootsie had his peg leg, of course, and Aldous was still bald, still wore his earring.
Maybe the pirate resemblance came from the fact that Blue Anderson, in his splendid frock coat and sweeping pirate hat, stood behind them.
She stared gravely at Blue. He nodded to her, a gesture of consolation that somehow seemed reassuring.
Father McFey took her arm and led her from the burial site. A uniformed chauffeur waited to open the door to the black limo that would take her back to the Dragonslayer. Those who could join them would be there for a repast in honor of Gus.
It was what he’d wanted; he had let his wishes be known in his will. He’d wanted to lie next to his wife and his son, Abby’s father, and he’d wanted “Amazing Grace” and Father McFey. He’d left explicit instructions. And then bring our friends back to the Dragonslayer. Please laugh with them and remember the wonderful events in my life. Celebrate for me, for I was blessed, and life comes to an end for us all.
She turned before getting into the car. A very tall man she didn’t know leaned against another car, a silver SUV. He hadn’t come to the grave site, she thought. But he’d been watching—he’d watched the burial rites, just as he watched her now.
He was interesting-looking, certainly. He appeared to be six-three or -four. He was appropriately dressed for a funeral in a dark suede jacket, white shirt and a dark vest. Black hair was neatly clipped, with one swatch that sat slightly low over his forehead. She couldn’t see his eyes because he was wearing sunglasses but she knew he was watching her.
An old friend of Gus’s? Or a new one? Definitely someone she hadn’t met.
But he hadn’t really taken part in the service. He’d stood at a distance, as if he had needed to watch—and still meant to be respectful. Odd, to say the least.
“Ms. Anderson?”
She realized she’d been staring at him when the driver suggested that she enter the car.
She was alone on the short drive back to the Dragonslayer. Macy had gone on ahead to see that they were set up for the reception to follow the service. Reception? No, party. Gus had insisted they celebrate his life, not the passing of it.
She thought about the week since his death and the funeral. Many people considered that a long time, but there’d been an autopsy and she’d wanted to arrange for those who’d loved Gus—some of them from out of town—to show up for the service.
The parking lot was half-full when the limo drove up to let Abby out. She wasn’t sure why she felt she needed more fortitude for Gus’s party than she had for the church or the graveside service. She knew a lot of people were going to cry—party or no—but she felt drained of tears, numb. Gus’s death was the end of her world as she’d known it.
“Hey!”
When she walked in, she almost smiled. The first people she saw were Gus’s old cohorts already at the bar. Bootsie, Dirk and Aldous.
They had teacups in front of them but she knew the tea had been spiked with whiskey—Gus’s favorite drink and cure-all.
They swung their stools around to greet her, all raising their cups. “Abby!”
She felt oddly as if they were saluting a monarch. Maybe they were afraid she’d oust them from their seats at the bar.