Trixie Belden looked over at the people leaving the church and quickly got into her car, not wanting to make small talk with people she barely knew or try to maintain her composure with those who shared her grief. She started up the engine and immediately turned off the radio. It seemed disrespectful to have Mick Jagger bellowing that he can’t get no satisfaction when they were burying a hero.
She watched as the funeral director gave directions to the six young men who were honoring their friend this one last time. It’s just not right, she thought as her brother left them and headed over to the car. Funerals are for old people, not someone so young.
“You going to the cemetery?” he asked when he opened the passenger side door.
“Of course, Mart.” He was already sitting in the car before she finished her response.
“I should probably ride with the other guys but I can’t take much more of Lester. I said I didn’t think you should be alone.”
“Lester feels guilty,” Trixie offered, as she flipped on her headlights and pulled the car into the long line behind the hearse.
“We all do. Either guilty or damn lucky.” Her brother leaned forward and rubbed his temple with both thumbs. While it may have been because of a headache, Trixie believed it was to keep from crying.
“He didn’t have to go,” her brother continued once he stopped his ministration. “And he didn’t have to join the Marines.”
“Oh!” she gasped as they drove past the police station. A line of officers were standing at attention, saluting as the hearse passed. “That’s…” Trixie choked on the words. She cried off and on for days after hearing that another young man from Sleepyside had been killed in Southeast Asia. Once he was finally home, she had been numb to any feelings except concern for his sole surviving family member. She definitely did not want to begin crying again.
Sole surviving family member. Trixie had never been so thankful for her large family as she had the past two weeks. She couldn’t fathom what it might be like to experience such grief alone. He had friends, of course, and they had rallied around him, but it wasn’t the same as having loving parents, siblings and extended family to lean on. He’d initially shown no emotion, insisting that he expected this and had been preparing for it for over a year. But after the body had arrived at the funeral home and he’d asked her to go with him to make arrangements, she’d realized how alone he really was. Her stomach was in knots as they discussed details with Bob Murphy, the owner of the facility, but when he’d squeezed her hand so hard she almost cried out in pain, she drew upon a strength she didn’t know she possessed. She’d held that hand the entire time they were making arrangements, and she’d held him close when he’d cried in the parking lot afterwards.
The procession wound through town and out into the countryside, finally entering a small cemetery; one of the oldest in the county. Trixie found a place to park and while her brother headed over to the hearse to fulfill his obligation, she sought out her friend. She knew he’d need her more than ever now.
She held his hand as they followed the coffin towards the green canopy that marked its resting place. She sat at his side and ignored the pain from his tight grip while a priest recited Scripture and performed the rituals common to their church, and a bugler played Taps. She took the proffered flag from the young Marine when he could not. She knew he would cherish it later, even if he didn’t want it now.
She stood at his side when they returned to her home where her mother and other women in the community had prepared a luncheon for the mourners. Once the last of the guests had left, she offered to help clean up, but was relieved when her mother told her she wasn’t needed.
He continued to hold her hand when she walked him out to his truck. He had parked in the grass, under a crabapple tree in full bloom and it was covered with pale pink petals. He began brushing them away. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he muttered. “This week…”
“You don’t...”
“I’m not ready to go home. I’d like to take a drive...maybe up the Valley. Would you come?”
“Of course. Can I change first?” Trixie ran back to the house before he could answer. He was still waiting by the truck when she returned a few minutes later, but he’d removed his jacket and tie.
They grabbed some burgers from a roadside stand and headed north. Trixie made some small talk, but the only sound for most of their journey was the singing of the tires on the pavement. She watched as they pulled off Route 9 and headed up a long gravel drive.
“What’s this?” she asked when he stopped.
“It’s where…this is where we lived when our parents were alive.”
“I always thought...so when did you move to Sleepyside?”
“I left the Marines when they died and found a job with the Sleepside PD. We moved then. I sold this place for barely enough to pay off the mortgage.” He grabbed the bag of burgers and his drink and got out of the truck. She quickly followed.
“It’s for sale again. I was thinking of buying it, but...I’m not sure what I’ll do now. I’m not sure if I want to stay in Sleepyside, or...I don’t know.”
“You can’t move..,” Trixie protested as he climbed into the truck bed and then helped her up. “I...We...You can’t!”
They sat side by side in the truck bed for some time, eating the burgers.
Trixie balled up her sandwich wrapper, placed it into the paper bag and laid back, staring into the cloudless sky. “You shouldn’t do anything rash. Wait a while before you make any decisions. You’ve...we’ve...I...we need you at work and...” She scooted down and draped her legs over the tail gate.
She looked up into the face of her friend. “I need you...” He leaned closer and Trixie knew he’d kiss her if she let him.
“How?” His voice was raspy and he choked on the words. “How do you need me, Trix?”
“I don’t know. I’m so confused. I need time. We need...”
He sat back up and then lay down beside her, also draping his legs over the tail gate. “You have no idea what you mean to me, Trixie.”
“I...” She hesitated when he took her hand. “I need time, Spider.”
“I understand. We’ll take it slow. Very slow.” Spider Webster closed his eyes and squeezed her hand tightly.
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