A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) (29 page)

He stepped back to stand with his brothers and Shepley, and then stood tall, his feet shoulder-length apart, his hands clasped in front him, a special agent of the FBI even when tears were trickling down his cheeks.

Liis, Falyn, Ellie, Camille, and Abby sat in the front row with America, empty seats between them. Jack and Deana sat in the row behind, along with two more rows of members of the police department in their dress blues.

The rest of the seats were filled with family and friends, neighbors and my brothers from Kappa Sigma, who were still left. People who’d passed in and out of my life for different reasons, at different times. All people who’d made a mark on my life, and who I’d carry with me into eternity.

Diane walked into the living room, holding Thomas’ hand, her belly full with our next two children. Her eyes flashed with excitement. “Do you smell that, Tommy?”

“It’s yucky,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

I stood up from my recliner and walked across the room in my socks, bending over to grab Thomas. “
Yucky?
What do you mean yucky?” I growled, tickling him. He arched his back, cackling and kicking to get away. “Daddy worked all weekend on the paint and carpet!” I finally let him loose. I thought he’d run away, and I was prepared to chase him, but instead, he hugged my leg. I patted his back as Diane took in a deep breath through her nose.

Diane shook her head, looking at my hard work in awe. “You’re amazing, Mr. Maddox.”

“New icebox, new couch … now new carpet and paint? We’ll have a whole new house about the time we’re ready to sell.”

Diane playfully jabbed her elbow into my side. “We’re never selling this house.”

Thomas made a show of waving his chubby little hand in front of his nose. “’Cause it’s stinky.”

“No, it’s wonderful. That’s the smell of new paint and carpet, and Daddy”—she paused as I leaned over her belly to peck her lips—“even put all the furniture back while we were at the grocery store.”

“Oh!” I said, heading to the driveway with a start. I popped the trunk and loaded my arms with brown paper sacks and brought them into the house. As I walked into the kitchen, I blew away the leafy celery stems that were poking out the top and tickling my face. Diane giggled at my funny faces as I set the groceries on the counter. She dipped her hands into the sacks to unload the fresh vegetables. “Two more,” I said jogging back to the car. I lifted the remaining sacks, slammed the trunk shut, and walked back in, whistling. I was glad the carpet and paint were finished, and we could enjoy my last night before work. I’d just celebrated my second anniversary at Eakins PD. We didn’t get many Sunday nights together, and now, we could relax in our practically new living room.

I walked through the mouth of the hall into the kitchen, frozen mid-step. Thomas and Diane were staring at the puddle on the linoleum, stunned.

For half a second, I worried about broken glass, but then I recognized that her water had broken. The doctor had to break her water during Thomas’s delivery, so I was surprised to see her standing there in her bare feet, wiggling her toes and grossed out by the liquid on the floor. She hadn’t even complained of any contractions.

She grunted, and her knees bent. She reached for the icebox to steady herself. “Jim?” she said, her voice shrill.

“Okay. Babies are coming. Don’t panic. Going to get the bag, and I’ll be right back.” I sprinted up the stairs, and just as I hooked my hand around the strap, I heard Diane moan. I bounded down the stairs three at a time, nearly breaking my ankle as I landed at the bottom.

“Oh!” Diane shrieked, holding out her free hand.

Thomas was sopping up the water with a towel.

“Good job, son. You ready to meet your new little sisters or brothers?”

Thomas grinned wide as I picked him up in one arm. I supported Diane’s weight, holding her to my side with my free arms, and dipped my head so she could hook her elbow behind my neck. I walked sideways out to the car, helping Diane in. Thomas stood up in the center of the bench seat, stroking his mom’s hair while she breathed.

“Shit! The keys!”

“The dining table,” she said, her voice low and controlled. She began her Lamaze, and I turned on my heels, sprinting into the house, swiping the keys, and then returning to the car. I slid in behind the wheel of our green 1970 Chevelle, and I yanked the gear into reverse. I stretched my arm across the top of the bench seat behind Thomas and Diane, and I turned around watching behind me as I stomped on the gas.

Diane caught Thomas when he jerked forward as I braked and stared at me with wide eyes. “Get us there in one piece, Daddy,” she said.

I nodded, a little embarrassed. I was a cop. Panic wasn’t supposed to be possible for me, but I’d been nervous for four and a half months, knowing Diane was going to deliver twins. So many things could go wrong with a single birth, never mind two.

Diane leaned over, grabbed her belly with both hands, and moaned.

I pulled the gear into drive, and we raced toward the hospital.

Thomas slipped his arms around Trenton’s shoulders while Taylor stood behind his twin at the podium. Tyler repositioned the microphone’s thin, silver neck, tapping the foam cover before gesturing for Taylor to start. Taylor shot Tyler a look like that was not what they had agreed to, but he stepped up and bent down.

“Dad was the best assistant coach in the league. He had a busy schedule with weird hours, but I don’t remember him ever missing a game. He didn’t so much coach as carry the ball bags for Mom and cheer from the dugout. Everyone said we had the best parents. When Mom died, no one said that anymore, but to us, they were still perfect. When Dad stopped missing Mom so much, he picked right up where he left off. He coached our team”—he paused, breathing out a small laugh—“we didn’t win as many games”—the congregation laughed—“but we loved him, and he took us out for ice cream after every game, win or lose. He packed our lunches, drove us to football practice, and attended all of our games. When Dad was around, I was never scared, whether it was because he knew the right thing to do, or because he had my back. He was the toughest man I’ve ever known, and my brothers are damn tough. I know if he had to go out, protecting his family is the way he’d want it to be.” Taylor touched his knuckle to his nose. “We couldn’t’ve had a better dad, and that’s the truth. The same for our wives. And my kids couldn’t’ve had a better Papa. I wish we lived closer so they could have gotten to know each other better, but the time he spent with them, he made it count. That’s what I want everyone to remember about Jim Maddox. He made his life count.”

Tyler hugged his brother, and then he opened a piece of paper. His lips trembled, and he looked out at the crowd and then back down at his paper a few times before he spoke. He cleared his throat and then took a deep breath. Taylor put a hand on his shoulder, and Thomas did the same, then Travis and Trenton added their strength for their brother as well.

Tyler’s lips formed into an “o,” and he breathed out. “I love my Dad,” he said, his voice breaking. He swallowed and then shook his head. Thomas patted him on the shoulder for encouragement. “He had to divide his time between five sons and his wife, but I never felt like I had to wait for his attention. We weren’t rich, but I don’t remember wanting for anything. I remember when Mom died; I wondered if he would get remarried because he’d always said there would never be another woman like our mom. When Travis left for college, I asked him if he’d reconsider, thinking maybe he was just concentrating on his kids. He said the only woman he’d ever love was waiting for him in Heaven. I’m just … I love my dad, and I’m sad he’s gone, but I’m happy for them that they’re together now. They’ve been waiting a long time to be together again, and it comforts my heart to know they’re somewhere right now, unable to keep their hands off each other, grossing out all of your passed friends and relatives the way they used to do to us.” The crowd chuckled. “They never spent more than a shift apart from the time they met until Mom died, and I know Dad never got over it. So Dad, I’m glad … I’m so happy that you’re with Mom now. I know she’s telling you how proud she is of how well you took care of us, because you did.”

“Run!” Diane screamed, pulling her white ball cap with the blue bill off her head, waving it in a big circle, side-skipping toward first base. “Run, run, run, run!”

Taylor dropped the bat and took off, running away from the tee post as fast as his short legs could take him. He finally made it to the white square, jumping up and down when he realized he’d gotten there before the ball.

Diane jumped with him, whooping and hollering and carrying on, giving him a high-five. Taylor beamed like it was the best day of his life. Diane reset, clapping as she jogged back toward the next batter. Thomas tossed her a new ball from the dugout, and she set it on the tee, telling Craig Porter to keep his eye on the ball and swing through. It was our last out, the last inning, and we were two runs down. Craig reared back, and as he swung, Diane leaned back, narrowly avoiding a bat to the face. The ball bounced off the tee, not reaching halfway between home base and the pitcher’s mound, but she yelled at him to go.

“Run! Yes! Run, Craigers! Run your little heart out! Taylor, go!” she said when she realized her son hadn’t started running yet.

Taylor took off, but the shortstop had picked up the ball and tossed it to second base. Without thinking, Taylor hopped right over him and kept running, standing on the base, pulling down his cap like he was the god of T-ball.

“Yes! Those are my boys!” she cheered, pointing at the two on base. “Get ya some!”

Tyler stepped up to the plate, looking mean and intimidating even though it was just him and the ball tee.

“All right, son,” Diane said, leaning over to grab her knees. She had a big wad of pink gum in her mouth, chewing it like it had made her mad. “You got this. Relax. Stare at that ball and swing your little heart out.” She clapped three times, taking a few steps back. Tyler was our best batter.

Tyler took a breath, wiggled his hips, and swung. He hit the tee, and the ball bounced behind him. He frowned, disappointed in himself.

Diane patted his backside once. “C’mon now, none of that. Shake it off. This is it. This time, you’ve got it.”

Tyler nodded and hit the bat against each of his little cleats. He bent forward, got in position, and then swung, launching it past the pitcher’s mound. It bounced, zipping between the second and third base, and the shortstop chased after it.

“Go, go, go!” Diane said, waving her hat. “Go to second!” When Taylor paused at third, she gestured him to come to her. “Home, baby! Home, home, home! Keep going, Craig, don’t stop! Go home, Taylor!”

Taylor slid into home and then stood. Diane grabbed him and held him close, yelling for Craig, who ran past home seconds later. The third baseman caught the ball from the shortstop, and then he hurled the ball to the catcher.

“Book it, Maddox!” Diane barked.

Tyler put into high gear and slid into home. When the dust cleared, the umpire crossed his arms and then held them out to his sides. “Safe!”

I yelled, running toward home, and the team followed me out. We crowded around Diane, everyone hugging her, cheering and laughing. The parents stood up, clapping for Diane’s Little Dodgers. Diane yelped, and she fell over, hugging the boys and cackling as they piled on top of her.

Once the celebration of winning their last tournament was over, and the boys and their parents waved goodbye, I hugged my wife tight. “You’re fierce,” I said. “Matt’s Mustangs didn’t know what hit ‘em.”

She smirked, arching an eyebrow. “I told you they would underestimate me.”

“And they did. You handled a whole team pretty good, coach. Great season.”

“Thanks,” she said, pecking my cheek. She rubbed my whiskers with her knuckles. “I hope you like the idea of me and a team of boys.”

I chuckled, confused. “What do you mean?”

She picked up the bag of t-balls and swung it over her shoulders. “I’m pregnant.”

I stood, my mouth hanging open as she walked to the car. I looked down at the twins. “Really?”

“Really!” she yelled back. She put her thumb and pinky in her mouth and blew out an ear-piercing whistle. “Load up!”

Thomas, Taylor, and Tyler took off after their mom.

I blew out a breath, my cheeks filling and then puffing out the air. I nodded once. “Okay, then.” The boys carried their bats and gloves, and I carried everything else, pulling down my Little Dodger’s ball cap. “Let’s do this.”

Trenton broke off from Thomas, Travis, Taylor, Tyler, and Shepley, limping to the podium for his turn. It was our family’s third funeral in six weeks, and the purple under his eyes and his sagging shoulders told a story of sleepless nights and grief. The paper crinkled as he unfolded the words he’d written down just days after I’d left him. It was full of eraser marks, pencil smudges, and dried tears.

“Dad.” He sighed. “When I sat down to write this letter, I tried to think about the many moments you were a good dad, and the hundreds of times we laughed or that just stuck out to me, but all I can think about … is that I’m so sad that you’re gone and how much I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss your advice. You knew everything about everything, and you always knew the right words to say—whether I was hurting or trying to make a decision. Even when I was making the wrong one. You never”—he shook his head and pressed his lips together, trying to hold in his tears—“judged us. You accepted and loved us for who we were, even when who we were was hard to love. And you were that way to everyone. Our wives called you dad, and it was real to them. Olive … called you Papa, and she meant it, and I’m glad to know that wherever you are, you’re together. I’m going to miss you telling stories about Mom. I felt closer to her no matter how many years passed by because when you talked about her, you talked like she was still here. I’m glad you can finally be with her again. I’m going to miss so many things about you, Dad. I couldn’t name them all. But we’re all lucky that we had you for the time that we did. Everyone who crossed your path was better for it, and they were forever changed. And now, we’ll be forever changed because you’re gone.”