Still, those men I couldn't hate weren't imaginary. They'd come to Eakins with guns and a very real threat to our family. It was easy to blame Thomas and Travis for bringing them there, but that would require placing the blame on someone else's choice. Thomas and Travis might have made their own choices based on the Carlisis, but they were on the right side of this. Their only other choice was to allow the Carlisis to avenge Benny's death. I was a person who detested violence, but sitting in a room with my sleeping husband and son, I realized there truly was a time for everything.
The only solution was to stand and fight.
That recognition both devastated and empowered me, as each new understanding did. I swiped the page again, feeling my cheeks burn with the tears that had begun to spill over. I sniffed and wiped my nose, waking my husband.
He saw my face and sat up, tucking a stray strand that had fallen from my bun behind my ear. "Elle," he said, barely above a whisper. "What is it?"
"Just reading a sad part," I said.
He smiled. He teased me often that I was the only person he knew who cried over non-fiction, but growth was rattling, and I often had to leave the bruised pieces of me behind, no matter how attached I'd become to them.
"What part is that?" he asked, settling in next to me.
"That Thomas and Travis's choice was reasonable, and it must have been so hard for them. They've been walking this earth so conflicted."
Tyler thought about my words and then sighed. "Probably."
"It's hard to see the light in circumstances like this, even if you're holding the candle."
Tyler chuckled and then turned to me. "Did you read that?"
"No."
"Your brain amazes me. Your thoughts are poetry."
I breathed out a laugh. "Sometimes, I guess. It's important to find strength in pain."
Tyler kissed my cheek and then reached for our son. Gavin was the perfect balance of Tyler and me--at peace when he was angry, wearing pale, soft skin encompassing a kind, brave spirit, and an analytical mind. I ran my fingers over the short cut he insisted upon to look more like his daddy, making his lids flutter. His warm russet eyes embraced the dark. Just like us, he would live through his worst before being his best, and I both dreaded and welcomed the challenge. I'd spent a lot of time earning the right to be his mother.
"He's been sleeping for a long time," Tyler said.
"I don't think he got a lot of sleep at the hospital. He needs it. His body will wake when it's rested."
We heard footsteps pass our door, walking down the hallway to the top of the stairs. Once they'd descended, Jim's muffled voice greeted them.
"He's up," Tyler said. "We should go down."
I nodded, carefully lifting Gavin's head from my lap. Tyler placed a pillow under his head, and I tucked the blankets in around him. Tyler held my hand as we made our way to the table where Jim sat with Liis and Mr. Baird, the representative from the funeral home. He'd come earlier before Jim had woken from his nap, and insisted on waiting patiently for the family to gather. Mr. Baird was tall and lanky, his ash-colored hair parted to the side and carefully gelled and combed over. He turned the page of a catalog, quietly discussing the pros and cons of oak, cedar, and pine, and the more eco-friendly bamboo or banana leaf and explaining the difference between a coffin and a casket.
Two boxes of tissue were the centerpiece of the dining table, and Camille reached over her seated husband to pull out a sheet, wiping her red-rimmed eyes. She was standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders, but it seemed to be comforting her as well.
Liis was sitting next to Jim, stoic, almost disconnected. I assumed she would handle the details as she did her job, organized and meticulous, but she was deferring to Jim for almost every decision.
"What about an urn?" Travis asked.
Jim frowned, likely imagining the cremation of Thomas's body instead of the vision Travis meant.
Liis nodded. "We could spread his remains in the backyard. He has so many stories of watching his brothers play there. I think he would like that."
"I was thinking of giving him my plot next to his mother," Jim said.
"That's sweet," I said, acknowledging the thought, but Trenton sighed, agitated.
"No, Dad," Trenton said. "You belong next to Mom. Liis is right. Thomas wouldn't want people staring at his body lying in a coffin."
"Casket," Mr. Baird corrected. "A coffin is a six or eight-sided wooden or metal burial unit that was historically used as a less expensive option. The angles provided use of fewer materials and..."
"No offense, Mr. Baird," Trenton said, "but I don't fucking care." He looked down at his watch. "Damn it. I have to get to work."
"I called in for you," Camille said.
"You did?" Trenton asked, bewildered.
"You should be here."
"Did you call in, too?" he asked.
"I can work from home." She put her hands on his forearm, their skin a masterpiece of lines and colors. "I should be here with you."
He turned, nodding and taking a deep breath. The smallest things seemed to bring everyone closer to the fact that this wasn't a bad dream. Thomas was dead, and we were going to say goodbye to him soon.
"Most of us haven't seen him since Christmas," Taylor said, holding Falyn's hand in his lap. They'd barely been able to stop touching since they'd made up earlier that day. "It would be closure for me to see him."
Everyone looked at Liis, who stumbled over her next words. "I don't think ... I think in this case, an urn is preferable."
"Are you saying that because he won't look the same or because it can't be an open casket?"
I tried not to gasp, but it happened, anyway. Olive did, too.
"I think," Liis said, trading glances with Travis, "an urn is preferable."
Jim looked away, trying to gather his emotions before responding. He cleared his throat. "Let's see the urns, then."
Papers rattled while Mr. Baird gathered the casket choices and put them away. He brought out a new catalog and printouts, and Liis opened the book to the first page of options.
"I need to know," Trenton said.
"Please don't," Camille cried.
"Why can't we have an open casket?" Trenton asked.
"Olive," Falyn warned. "Go check on the kids."
"Yes, ma'am," she said, immediately turning for the stairs.
"Liis?" Trenton prompted.
"Trent," Liis said, closing her eyes. "I understand knowing is part of your grieving process, but I can't. This is too hard."
Travis walked over to her and cupped her shoulders. "It doesn't matter, Trent."
"It fucking matters. I wanna know what happened to my brother."
"He died," Travis said.
Trenton slammed his fist on the table and stood. "I know! I know he fucking died! I wanna know why! I wanna know who let that happen!"
Travis's voice was noticeably restrained. "No one. No one let it happen. It just is. We don't have to pick someone to blame, Trent ..."
"Yeah, we do. Tommy is dead, Travis. He's fucking dead, and I blame the FBI. I blame him. I blame her," he said, pointing at Liis. "And I blame you." He was shaking, his eyes bloodshot and glossed over.
"Fuck you, Trent," Travis said.
Trenton rounded the table, prompting the twins to stand between them. Travis stood stoic, unflinching while Trenton thrashed about wildly. I scrambled from my chair and stood with my back to the corner, palms flat against the walls.
"Every last one of you suited up motherfuckers ...!" Trenton seethed.
"Stop!" Tyler said, gripping the collar of Trenton's shirt. "Stop, goddammit!"
"Fuck off!" Trenton said, shoving Tyler off him. He was breathing hard, pacing back and forth a few feet and glaring at Travis like he was between rounds during an MMA match.
Taylor stood in front of Travis, gesturing for his wife to step back. Falyn obeyed, pushing away from the table and walking around to the other side to stand next to me. "What do we do?"
she whispered.
"Stay put," I said.
"All the damn lies," Trenton said. He pointed at Travis. "And you shot their fucking boss, and then they murdered our brother!" He took a few steps, and Taylor braced himself. "And half a goddamn day goes by before you tell us what the hell is going on? What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?" He took another step, too far into Taylor's space.
"Don't make me knock you out," Taylor said, his brow furrowed.
I closed my eyes. "Please stop," I said, my voice too weak for anyone to hear except Tyler. He glanced at me just long enough to check that I was okay.
"No one is knocking anyone out," Camille said, standing behind her husband. "Back off, Taylor."
Falyn took a step forward. "Taylor? Tell your husband to calm down. This isn't solving anything."
Camille narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law. "You know what didn't solve anything? Putting us all in danger and lying about it. I think Trent has a right to be upset."
"Really?" Falyn said, crossing her arms. "Really, Cami? You're going to pretend you weren't on Team Thomas twenty-four hours ago?"
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Falyn," Camille said, disgusted.
"Hey!" Taylor boomed. "Don't talk to her like that. Ever."
"Then she needs to watch her tone," Trenton said.
"She's my wife!" Taylor said. "No one talks to her like that."
"Weren't you just yelling at Cami yesterday for the same thing?" Falyn asked. "That she was keeping secrets? Now, you're blaming Liis when she's sitting there trying to mourn her husband? Liis doesn't owe you anything, Trent."
"She owes me the truth!" he yelled.
Jim was still turning pages, trying to ignore that his family was falling apart a few feet away. It was too much for him, and too much for Liis, who couldn't find words or the will to stop them.
"Are you finished?" Travis asked.
The front door opened, and Shepley's boys barreled down the hall, barely waving to us just before they shot up the stairs. When Shepley and America came to the end of the hall to see almost everyone standing, and me backed against the wall, they froze.
"What's going on?" Shepley asked, his eyes bouncing from one person to the next.
"Why don't you ask Travis?" Trenton said, jerking his hand out and upward in Travis's general direction.
Shepley looked to Travis, seeming uncomfortable. "What's going on?"
Travis sighed, relaxing a bit. "Trenton's having another one of his outbursts."
Trenton shot Travis a dirty look.
Travis shrugged. "You told him to ask me."
America walked up to the table and pulled up a chair, unfazed by the fact that a war was about to break out. "What now? Is he pissed about Cami again?"
Camille narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
"Really," America said, picking at her thumbnail.
"I wasn't trying to hurt anyone," Camille seethed. "And if every single one of you judging me would have known from the beginning, it wouldn't have changed anything. Not a damn thing. So put away your pitchforks. I was respecting Thomas's wishes. That's all."
"America didn't mean that, Cami," Shepley said.
"Yes, I did," America deadpanned.
"Mare," Shepley chided.
America rolled her eyes and sat up. "Five people have been lying to us about a safety concern involving our entire family. Thomas, Liis, Travis, Abby, and Cami." She looked at Camille. "So don't try to snake out of the blame, Cami. Just because your husband is angry about the lies and you want to be on his side doesn't excuse you from the truth."
Camille's cheeks flushed red, and her eyes glossed over. "I didn't ask to be put in this position."
"You still had a choice."
Liis finally chimed in. "Abby only knew because I told her. And I asked her to be discreet about the information she had."
Travis looked down at Liis, surprised. "You told her?"
Several seconds passed before Liis could look Travis in the eyes. "Years ago."
His shoulders sagged. "So every time I left town and lied straight to her face about where I was going ... the elaborations ... she knew?"
"She was in a dark place," Liis said. "She was sure you were having an affair. She knew you were lying, she just didn't know about what. Telling her saved your marriage."
"Then why not tell me?" Travis said, fidgeting. "You let me continue lying to her?"
"If you told her, the FBI would have rescinded the agreement. She had to have a valid reason for coming up with it on her own. The information she gave you on Mick was more than a satisfactory explanation, and the Bureau knows Abby is an extremely intelligent individual."
"Don't speak analytics to me, Liis." He closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's being released from the hospital today. I need to get back there."
The twins sat down, whispering about the new development. They had been lying, too, and had agonized over it for years, but Thomas and Travis's had overshadowed their secret, giving them an unexpected easy out. It reminded me of the time my sister Finley had snuck out and stole our parents' car. She had no plans. She just wanted them to notice her for once instead of catering to my cries for attention. When they realized what she'd done, they were too busy hiring an attorney to get me out of trouble for setting fire to my father's partner's vacation home to be angry with her. She didn't even get grounded. My antics made anything less than arson seem trivial.
Trenton noticed the twins were occupied and used the opportunity to rush Travis, slamming him against the wall. Seconds before their collision, Liis scooted her chair into the corner, pulling Jim and Mr. Baird with her. She had quick reflexes, just like I imagined an FBI agent to have. The other agents rushed into the room, but Travis held up one hand, signaling for them to back off.
Trenton's face was wet with tears. "Why did you have to kill Benny, Travis? Why didn't you stay with Thomas and protect him if you knew he was in danger?"
"I didn't know, Trent," Travis said, staring into his brother's eyes. "I didn't know. And even if I did, I would have stayed here to protect my family."
Trenton gripped Travis's collar and shoved him against the wall. Travis didn't even attempt to fight back, and I wondered why. "He was your family. He helped raise you, Travis. You just let him face that alone?"
"I'm sorry," Travis said sincerely. "I'm so fucking sorry, Trent. You have no idea how bad I feel about this, or how much worse I'll feel later when ... It's not fair. Maybe it should've been me."
Trenton released Travis's shirt and took a few steps back.
Shepley patted his back. "It could have been you. It could've been Abby, or James, or Jess, or Ezra, or Mare. And we would've never known it was coming."
Tyler tucked his chin with a confused look on his face. "What are you saying, Shep? That what happened to Thomas was lucky for the rest of us?"
"Of course not," Shepley said.
"He's saying what happened to Thomas shouldn't have been our warning," Trenton said. "We should have all been notified and ready the moment Travis was embedded in the fucking mafia as a spy."
Tyler wrinkled his nose. "You're going to blame Travis for this? He didn't ask for this. He's just playing the hand he was dealt, man. So stow that shit before you say something else you're gonna regret."
"He's not going to regret asking questions," Shepley said. "If we had done that years ago, maybe we wouldn't be planning a funeral."
Travis seemed hurt that Shepley was taking Trenton's side. "Really?" Travis asked.
Shepley patted Trenton on the shoulder, showing his allegiance.
"You're my best friend," Travis said in disbelief.
"You're wrong on this one, Trav. We have a right to be upset about what you've done," he said.
"If you don't mind," Jim said, scooting his chair to the table again. "I've got some plans to make. If you do mind, you're going to have to leave. This funeral's not gonna plan itself."
"No," Mr. Baird said, straighten
ing his tie with a nervous twitch in his eye. "No, it is not."
The boys sat down, and Jim looked each of them in the eye. "Not another word. I mean it."
"Yes, sir," they said in unison.
"Ladies?" Jim said, looking at America, Camille, and Falyn.
They all nodded.
It felt strange to me, even after a decade of sobriety, not to be included in the calling out of bad behavior. It was even stranger to feel proud and validated.
"Okay, then." He turned another page, and Liis pulled her chair next to his, looking over urns like nothing had happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAMILLE
JIM CHOSE TO HAVE THE FUNERAL at the high school auditorium. The attendance would be too many people to fit into any of the small churches in Eakins. People were standing against the wall in the back and along the sides. Fellow Eastern alumni, former high school friends, and football teammates. The stage looked like a mini botanical garden, surrounded the urn with plants, sprays, and bouquets. One wreath wore a sash that said son, another father, another husband. I was sitting in the second row directly behind Liis, unable to stop watching her for any reaction. She sat stoic, and the few times she looked back to scan the crowd in disbelief, she looked uncomfortable and a bit ashamed.
Sniffling and muffled conversation filled the silence, the acoustics amplifying the crowd's pain. It was unbelievable how many knew and cared about Thomas. Even his FBI colleagues were present, taking up the three rows behind the family. The director sat behind Travis and reached up to pat his shoulder.
Jack stood up and, with Shepley's help, carefully climbed the stairs to the stage. With folded notebook paper in hand, he stood behind the podium. The paper crackled as he unfolded it, and then he cleared his throat.
"My brother asked me to read this letter for him. I'm not convinced I can get through it myself, so please bear with me." He fished his glasses from his jacket pocket and placed them on his face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.
"My dearest Thomas," he began, pausing for a moment before he continued, "you are my firstborn, and that means you and I spent quite a bit of time together alone before your brothers came along. We bonded in a unique way, and I'm not sure ... I'm not sure how I'll move on with my life without you. But I've said that before.