The way she was suddenly desperate to promise it to him.
Her mother’s eyes grew watery. “Well, then that settles it.”
“What?” Lauren’s heart was still racing within her, the future bright with possibilities that had eluded her all her life.
“I need to change my plane ticket.” Her mother squeezed her hands, her eyes glistening. The look on her face said that the wedding was already a done deal, as if she — even better than Lauren — knew without a doubt what Shane would say.
She grinned. “Because I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
TWENTY-NINE
Funerals were strange.
Emily was amazed how, as the day wore on, the group of family and friends who had known Justin best rode a wave of emotions that seemed to change with every passing hour. What had started at the beginning of the day as resolve had given way to gut-wrenching grief and unending sorrow.
But now that she’d made the round trip to Tacoma to drop off the teens, she joined the others at the Bakers’ house. The joy she found there surprised her, but after an hour she was laughing too. A laughter that would’ve made Justin proud to be a part of them. people told stories about him — the time he rode his bike through the neighbor’s freshly paved driveway and denied the charge to his mother.
“I only had to take him outside to see the black tire track leading all the way from Mrs. Johnson’s house to ours.” Justin’s father chuckled. He was sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, his wife and daughter on either side, and Buster sleeping at their feet. Justin’s sweatshirt was tucked beneath the dog’s paws.
Also sitting around the table with her were her parents and grandmother, and Joe Greenwald along with a few other relatives. The stories kept them there, spellbound, celebrating Justin and every time he’d ever made them smile. Emily savored each one, learning a little more about him with each telling, each round of laughter.
Around seven o’clock, a lull fell over the table. The men moved into the family room, and the women headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Again the atmosphere was familiar. Trays of food on the counter, the smell of barbecued chicken and potato casserole and baked apples, all brought to the house by friends. Flames danced in the fireplace in the next room, and country music played, a soft backdrop for the conversations and occasional rounds of laughter that filled the place.
Emily closed her eyes and breathed in. This could’ve been any other gathering, a Saturday afternoon when their families had come together for a holiday party. She could picture him beside her, laughing with Joe and teasing his mother for breaking down and letting Buster in the house.
She blinked and the truth was glaringly obvious. Justin wasn’t there. He never would be again. With the others off to different rooms, she and Joe were the only ones at the table, and she studied him — for the first time since they’d spoken at the church earlier that day. He was staring at his hands, his shoulders stiff, uncomfortable.
Emily’s heart hurt for him. How must he feel? Today should’ve been another attempt at bringing order to the streets of Iraq. Justin should’ve been beside him in their Humvee, riding through Baghdad and taking care of business, counting the days until their tour was up.
“Joe?” Her voice was soft. “Wanna take a walk?”
He looked up and something crossed his expression, a sense of obligation and inevitability. He didn’t break eye contact. “I think we need to.”
She stood and found her coat near the front door. He did the same, but he also grabbed his backpack from the floor. Neither of them said anything as they went out the front door and closed it behind them. Darkness had already set, and with the clouds overhead, the only light came from the tall lamps that lined Justin’s street.
Emily pulled her coat more tightly around her and stuck her hands in her pockets. Winter was in the air, and rain in the forecast. The breeze was biting, but it made her feel alive, helped lift the stifling sense of death she had carried all day. They hadn’t walked too far when Joe stopped and leaned against a tree.
“It should’ve been me.” He breathed in sharply and stared into the darkness. “Justin … he had everything to live for.” Joe looked at her, to the part of her heart that was barely holding on. His eyes pooled with sympathy, empathy. “He loved you, Emily. So much.”
This was the moment they’d both put off, and Emily steeled herself against it, willed herself to hear what Joe had to say without falling apart again. “You were with him. When …”
There was no need to finish her sentence. Joe understood. He slid one foot up against the tree trunk and stared at the ground. “He was sleeping when it hit, dreaming I think. Because an instant after the explosion, he was calling for you.”
Tears gathered in her eyes and she held her breath. She didn’t want to cry, not now. This was the only chance she’d ever have to hear the details of that terrible hour. But she hadn’t expected this. He’d called for her? A moment after the explosion she had been there in his mind? The news filled her with a gratitude and sorrow greater than anything she’d known.
Joe sniffed. “It was like … like he was talking to you.” He lifted his fist to his mouth and waited. “He told you he was sorry, he … never meant for it to happen.”
The story unfolded, how Joe was cut, but alright, and how he crawled out of the mangled vehicle and found Justin on the ground. “His legs … they were torn up.” Joe raked his fingers through his short hair. “I knew he was in trouble. I started calling for help. Justin … he was pretty dazed. Didn’t know what had happened. But right away he started asking about his legs.”
Emily didn’t want to picture how Justin looked, how bad the scene must’ve been for Joe. She exhaled. God … please get me through this. She didn’t want the details, but she’d wondered about something ever since she got the news. Justin was a medic, and he would’ve helped a soldier in trouble. But had there been medics on hand in his hour of need? Or had he bled to death without any help? A cold bit of wind slipped in through her coat and she hugged herself to ward off the chill. “Were there medics? Nearby?”
“Not at first.” Joe narrowed his eyes, which again grew distant, as if the tragedy was playing out again in his mind. “I leaned across him, using my body to stop …” He shook his head, and anger crept into his tone. “It didn’t help. He was bleeding pretty bad.”
Emily felt sick, faint. There was a street sign a foot from her, and she leaned against it so she wouldn’t fall.
“He didn’t ask about his legs after that.” The anger faded from his tone. A sad sort of laugh came from him. “He was more worried about me, told me I had a cut over my eye and I needed to get pressure on it. I told him I was fine. I kept …” His shoulders hunched forward. “I told him to hang on, and he … told me to pray. So I did, I prayed out loud.” His eyes lifted to hers. “I kept telling him you were waiting for him, that he had to hold on for you.”
Sadness filled every part of her. She had questions, not for Joe Greenwald. For God. But they would have to wait. She kept her eyes on Joe, willing him to finish.
“The medics came then, and they tried.” His face twisted, and he suddenly looked like a young kid, crying because he’d lost his best friend. “It was too much. Too much blood loss, his injuries too bad. There was nothing — ” He stopped a sob midway and shook his head hard.
Emily had watched Justin’s friend suffer long enough. She took the backpack he was holding and set it on the ground beside him. Then she pulled him into her arms, hugged him the way she’d hug a brother. He clung to her, held on so tight, she could barely breathe. “Emily … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She stroked his back, willing him to survive the loss, same as she was willing herself to survive it. “If it’s too hard, Joe, you don’t have to tell me.”
He released her and leaned against the tree once more. “No. I … I have to. I promised him.”
A car drove by on the street a few feet from them. As it p
assed, Emily lifted her words to God. Please … help him through this. Help us both, Lord. As she silently spoke the words, the chill inside her eased. God was with them, even now, even with her questions and confusion. Emily anchored herself against the street sign and waited.
“That’s when I noticed this.” He lifted the backpack and held it with one hand. With the other he reached inside, rifled through the contents, and pulled out what looked like a small picture. He handed it to her.
It was a laminated photograph of Emily, one that Justin had taken at the pier that day, just before their cruise. The picture was bent and splattered with dirt. The one he’d written to her about. Emily studied it, remembering that afternoon. Their future had seemed so real and bright. She turned her eyes to Joe. “He told me about this. He kept it in his boot.”
“He was holding it when … when the bomb went off.”
Emily stared at the photograph, tried to make out the image of her face through the cloud of fresh tears. If she’d had any doubt about his feelings for her, any doubt about whether she was on his mind in his final moments, this erased them all. He’d been thinking of her, looking at her picture even as his life drained away.
Joe held the backpack to his chest. “He told me to tell you he loved you, but …” He was more composed now, the sobs having retreated to a place where — like hers — they would never be far away. He squinted. “I told him to tell you himself. You were his girl.”
A sad smile lifted the corners of Emily’s mouth. She appreciated Joe, his heart and his spunk, his willingness to carry out the message for Justin, his determination in those final moments to spur Justin to hold on and fight for every breath.
“I think he knew he didn’t have long. He kept his eyes on your picture and — ” Joe’s expression changed and he swallowed hard. Whatever was coming next, his discomfort was evident. He searched her eyes. “He asked me to be your friend, Emily. That’s what he wanted.”
Emily folded her fingers around the bent piece of plastic and hung her head. As he lay there dying, Justin’s thoughts hadn’t only been about her, they’d been for her. That she might have a friend to help her survive his loss. She tucked the photo into her pocket and held her coat tighter around her body. Justin … how can you be gone?
Then she remembered Joe, the soldier who had just bared his heart by passing on a request from Justin — a request that clearly made him uneasy. Her silence was bound to feel like rejection. Sure enough, as she lifted her eyes, he was looking at the ground.
“We don’t even know each other, Emily. It’s okay … you don’t have to … I mean, I only told you because — ”
“Joe.” Her tone was tender, but firm. She took hold of his arm and searched his face. This was what Justin wanted, and she was glad. Being friends with Joe would help ease the loneliness, give her someone to listen when all she wanted to do was talk about the love she’d lost. “I want to be your friend.”
The awkwardness in his eyes lifted a bit. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She let go of him and hugged herself again. “I think that’d be nice. You aren’t going back to Iraq, right?”
He absently touched the bandage on his forehead. “No. I’ll have to do my part from here now.”
“Okay, then.” They didn’t need a plan or a date. They could exchange cell phone numbers and make arrangements to meet for lunch or dinner or for a walk around campus. They would be friends because Justin asked them to be, and because it made sense. Overnight, Justin’s loss gave them more in common than they might’ve found in a year.
Joe reached into his backpack again. “I brought you a few other things.” He pulled out the red scrapbook, the one she’d given Justin before he left. With great care he dusted it off and looked at it. “He read the thing every night.” His eyes found hers. “I mean, really. He knew every page, knew it by heart.” Joe did a sad laugh as he handed it to her. “I think even I memorized it.”
Emily’s hands shook. She took hold of the book and brought it close. Somehow it smelled like Justin, and she felt her heart breaking again. She had never planned to get it back, never imagined a scene like this one. Joe’s words played again in her mind. He read the thing every night … knew it by heart. She held the book tighter. She would look at it later, study each page for signs that Justin had camped there, finger smudges or bits of dirt. She found Joe’s eyes. “Thank you. For bringing it to me.”
He nodded. “There’s more.” He pulled out a manila envelope. “All the letters you sent, and a few notebook pages, things he wrote when he couldn’t sleep.” He handed her the envelope.
Emily tucked it inside the cover of the scrapbook. The night was getting colder, and they needed to get back. Her cheeks were dry now, because the things Joe had told her had eased some of the pain. Almost as if she too had been there beside Justin when he died. “Did he … say anything else?”
Joe thought for a few seconds. Then his eyes shone with a sweet sadness. “Yes.” He looked at the dark sky beyond the trees. “He said he’d save a place for us. For his family and the guys at the teen center, for me — ” his eyes found hers again — “and for you. Those were his last words. He was looking at your picture, and he told me he’d save a spot for you.”
Another chilly breeze came over them, but a strange warmth made its way through her. She imagined the moment, Justin looking at her picture, wanting to save her a place in heaven. “Did he talk much about the boys, the teens at the center?”
“Mmmhm.” Joe eased the backpack onto his right shoulder. “All the time. After missing you, his next concern was for those kids.” Joe uttered a soft laugh. “And Buster, of course.”
Emily smiled. “Of course.” That was Justin, serving in one of the hottest spots in the war and worried more about his dog than his life.
Joe motioned toward the Bakers’ house. “We should get back.”
“Yes.” They began walking, their steps slow, pensive. How strange it was having this mountain of a guy beside her, a new friend she wouldn’t have found if it wasn’t for a promise between two buddies. “Thanks, Joe. For everything.”
He brushed off the thanks and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. Like before, he looked nervous, not quite sure about whatever was coming next. “About those guys at the teen center … maybe we could head out there and hang with ’em once in a while. The way Justin used to do.”
This time Emily’s smile started deep inside her soul. “I think they’d like that.”
As they made the rest of the walk in silence, Emily felt a connection with Joe she hadn’t imagined ever feeling. Because Joe wanted to be like Justin, same way Bo and Dexter and all the young guys wanted to be like him. So maybe that would become Justin’s legacy, another part of himself he would leave behind. His loss would always be a terrible thing. Emily could live a hundred years and she would never quite heal, never quite get through a day without missing the young soldier who had captured her heart that perfect summer on the shores of Seattle.
But the world would be a different place because of him, a better place. No matter how brief, his life had counted. It had mattered in a deep and lasting way. This is the bus stop, she could hear him saying as she took the steps up to his parents’ front door. The great journey is on the other side. Indeed. Her soul stirred and a new kind of calm came over her. Justin was gone, but he had left behind his wisdom and laughter and a thousand precious memories. And something else. She smiled at Joe as they reached the front door.
He had left her a friend.
THIRTY
Shane didn’t want to think about saying good-bye. But it was coming. There was no way around the fact. The day after Justin’s funeral, Lauren took him up to Seattle’s Space Needle. The rest of the week belonged to Emily, she told him. But today it needed to be just the two of them. They rode five hundred feet up to the O Deck and stood against the railing, looking out at the city. After a long while, Lauren turned to him.“Shane … we need to talk.”
; The look on her face told him she had something serious to say, and a part of him wanted to stop her. She couldn’t give him a farewell speech. Not after all they’d been through that past week. Time and again things between them had seemed better than ever. So why weren’t they talking about staying together? Shane steeled himself. “Why do I feel like we’ve done this before?”
“This is different.” She took his hands, and the look in her eyes softened. “In the last few months I’ve learned a lot. I prayed for wisdom and God gave it to me.” Her voice held none of its usual skepticism. “It’s easy to step back and see something through the lens of personal bias.” She stared at the breathtaking view. “I can stand here and see a harbor or a city or the mountains, and I can think that’s what makes up Seattle.” She looked at him. “But it’s not until I get down from the Space Needle and walk the streets, not until I climb the mountains or find my way to the waterfront, that I can actually know something about the city.”
He listened, wanting to draw her into his arms. Hope shone a flashlight on the dark places of his heart. This was the Lauren he had fallen in love with, the one who was levelheaded and careful with her opinions. He let her finish.
“That’s what happened to me in Iraq these last few months.” She exhaled and looked through the wall of glass again. “I had a chance to walk the streets and talk to the people and watch the soldiers — guys like Justin — and see for myself why this war is important.”
He hadn’t been sure where she was going with her thoughts, but he was touched. This wasn’t the good-bye he’d expected. Not yet, anyway. She’d brought him to the Space Needle so she could tell him how she’d changed, how her eyes had in some ways been opened. But before he could ask her what else was on her mind, what might lay ahead for the two of them, she turned to him and kissed him. Kissed him the way she hadn’t done since their first night back together at her parents’ house in Chicago a year ago.