Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Colten unbuttons his suit jacket and stretches his arm behind me, resting it on the polished wooden edge, his fingers lightly teasing my hair. It makes me shiver, and I scold my body for such a weak reaction while he half grins in victory.
Mom shows me the picture of Vera on the front of the funeral program. It’s a photo that my mom took of Vera at the Pella Tulip Festival.
“Denise asked me if I had any photos from our trip to Pella because she talked about it all the time,” Mom whispers.
I nod, smile, and try harder to ignore Colten’s close proximity.
The service begins, and I watch her family in the front pew. She had three children: Denise, Abby, and Phillip. Abby died of a rare brain tumor after she had her first child—Vera’s first grandchild. Shortly after, her husband, Jerry, took his own life because he couldn’t deal with the grief. I’ve only seen Denise once before today. She visited from DC with her two children the summer before my sophomore year. And I’ve never met Phillip.
As the service continues, I think about anything but the words flowing from the podium. It’s my funeral trick. If I don’t listen to the speakers, I won’t get emotional and leave a blubbering mess. Sometimes, I take the clinical approach and imagine doing the autopsy where they are a stranger to me. What was the cause of death and how I discovered it.
Colten’s arm around me disappears, jolting me from my alternative thoughts. He stands and wedges his way out of the pew and then walks to the front of the church.
“What is he doing?” I whisper to my mom.
She points to the funeral program, and his name next to the song “Ave Maria.”
They asked him to play the piano? I shouldn’t be surprised because Vera had a grand piano, and Colten loved to play it instead of his keyboard. Still, how many years has it been since he’s seen her? Did she have it in her will? Did my mom suggest it to her family? Did he offer on his own when he heard the news?
The adult version of Colten Mosley in a sharp black suit, playing the piano … it does things to me that should never happen at a funeral service.
“He has magical hands,” Mom whispers, leaning closer to me.
I blush. God … I hope she doesn’t notice. I can’t refute it. Colten’s hands know what they’re doing.
By the time he’s finished, I think I’m the only one not crying. New funeral trick: imagine Colten doing magical things to me with his magical fingers.
When he returns to the pew, he eyes me with an expression I can’t read. His arm returns to the back of the pew behind me while his lips touch my ear. “Hard-ass. Do forensic pathologists not cry at funerals?”
Before I can answer, Vera’s son takes the podium. “That was beautiful. Thank you, Colten.”
Colten gives him a tiny smile and an easy nod.
Phillip continues, “My mom moved to Des Moines years ago to be closer to her sister who was battling breast cancer. Denise and I were in college and our dad had … passed on.” He clears some emotion from his throat. “Denise and I were worried that she might feel lonely or overwhelmed with responsibility. But we quickly learned she had neighbors who adopted her as part of their family. And we heard so many stories about Colten and Josie.” He laughs a little. “I’d never met them, but I felt like I knew them from all the stories Mom shared. She loved listening to Colten play the piano. And Josie … are you here?”
A few people look around, and Mom nudges my arm.
I slowly raise my hand and smile.
Phillip gives me a nod. “Hi, Josie. Nice to finally meet you. My mom adored you. She said you were the most inquisitive child she had ever met. She said you devoured books like she did, and you questioned everything and everyone. And she just knew you would marry Colten. I guess she was right.”
I stiffen.
My parents chuckle.
Colten plays it cool like … WE’RE MARRIED.
Of course, Phillip thinks that because Colten has his arm behind me like I’m his property.
I return a constipated smile. Do I shake my head? Is it proper to correct a grieving son in the middle of his mother’s funeral?
Phillip continues his gratitude for the people who graced Vera’s life.
We make the slow drive to the burial. In my attempt to ignore Colten, I find myself listening to the minister say some final words about Vera.
I watch her kids console each other and her grandchildren.
Then I think back to my times with Vera.
“Colten has another girlfriend. Would it kill him to not have a girlfriend for … two seconds?”
Vera laughed as we spread blackberry jam onto warm biscuits in her kitchen. Mom sent me over to return several mason jars, and Vera easily persuaded me to eat biscuits and jam with her.