Something Worth Saving (23 page)

Because of how badly Logan had been burned, the casket was closed for Amelia’s sake. Instead, Brooke had a photo displayed beside the casket of him in his Class A uniform, taken shortly after he started with Firehouse 10. It was clear the photo had been taken a year ago, as the cut above his left eye wasn’t there. That came over the summer, when he and Jace had fallen two floors in a fire and a piece of wood split his forehead open.

The photo they chose for him was absolutely perfect. It was him with his goofy grin and charismatic personality shining through.

“I wonder what he was thinking.” Her voice shook with each word as she looked at his portrait displayed in front of the casket. “Is it normal to wonder about that?”

Jace put his arm around her. “I think it’s normal to wonder what the last few seconds were like for him.”

Brooke looked at Jace, kind of stunned, kind of relieved.

“It’s natural.” Jace soothed her back, rubbing it softly. “I get it. But I’ll tell you something.” He leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear. “He was thinking of you.”

We didn’t have the kids attend the funeral. Though Amelia did, as she should, with tear-filled eyes and a shaky smile. But she was brave. Just like her daddy.

I didn’t feel Gracie and Jayden were ready for something like that. I’d had a hard enough time trying to explain why Uncle Logan wouldn’t be around anymore.

If anyone has any ideas on how to explain death to children, I’d love to hear them, because I had nothing for that one.

There are formal procedures that must be followed when a firefighter is killed in the line of duty. Just like the grieving process.

And honestly, it was more like a dream than a reality. The entire thing, all of it, from the time Brooke was given the news, it was . . . there are really no words.

The honor for him was displayed in ways I’d never thought I would see. It was the first line-of-duty funeral I had ever been to.

After Brooke was notified, and the flags were lowered at the station, it was the start of shock for everyone. It was as if the smoke-stained walls had closed us off from the world.

The chaplain helped with all the funeral arrangements because with the numbness that took over Brooke, she couldn’t do it.

The day of the funeral all of Station 10 and the surrounding stations attending the funeral were in their Class A uniforms, showing respect with their shrouded badges for their fallen brother.

Once we were inside the church as it was really happening, the invocation was given by the chaplain but the magnitude of the situation was grasped when Brooke spoke with beautifully chosen words of a life full of fortitude and honors.

She spoke from the heart, her irrevocably broken heart, and tears of hurt so deep nobody could take away the pain. I watched Jace beside me when Brooke started to speak, Amelia on his lap, her face buried in his jacket, sobbing.

“When Chief Wade asked me if I wanted to speak here today, I hesitated for a moment because I didn’t feel I would say what needed to be said.” Her eyes met mine and then Jace’s before falling back to her hands at the podium. “I hesitated because I’m not like Logan. He could speak in front of thousands of people if needed, but I can’t. I also knew that I needed to. I needed to because if this had happened to me, Logan would have spoken for me. I’ll never get over his death, but I can honor his memory and make it live forever. And that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

An unbearable silence spread throughout the church when she broke down beside his casket.

J
ACE TOOK
the podium to deliver the eulogy. Through shaking words and a heart so heavy it brought you to your knees, he stood there with a shattered and cold stance to honor his friend.

With eyes that were painfully watchful, sadness was suffocating to everyone, a profound sorrow to a man’s unspoken invincibility.

To some his words were merely words, evaporating like steam from the fire within them. To others, it was heat within the inferno that had trapped them.

Jace held the room captive with his words of valor for his best friend. With a shaking voice that broke every few words, he was honoring his friend the way he knew Logan would have done for him.

“I must have sat for hours, trying to think of the right words that would give you a feel for who Logan was. But I couldn’t. All I could come up was that he was brave. A man I trusted my life to. He led by example and never showed off. It wasn’t his style. He will forever be that in my memory.

“I met Logan when I was eight playing football. Our dads shook hands, having known each other somehow. As we got to talking, I found out my father, Wade Ryan, had saved Logan from a house fire a few years before. His younger sister, Lucy, had died in that fire. One would think that Logan would have taken on some kind of survivor guilt for having survived when his sister didn’t. Instead, he took on more of a “living a life for two” attitude. It was Logan’s love of saving those in need that brought him to firefighting. He was tough. He was a rock. He taught us guys how to do it right on a job and held us accountable. He was humble, funny, and loved. It’s hard to imagine right now.” Jace’s voice caught, the tears falling freely now. “We will grieve our future without him. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a friend, a hero, and a comrade. Death doesn’t take you away from someone. They’re there everywhere we look. It doesn’t take away your memories, either — they’re there, too. Love is stronger than death. I believe that.”

T
HE PROCESSION
was silent. Nobody said a word during the journey from the church to the cemetery.

I’d never experienced silence like that.

Just when I thought Brooke and Jace couldn’t possibly hurt any more, the flag that represents freedom and reverence was carried through crossed ladders, and the casket, her heart and his brother, was loaded on the back of an apparatus and taken to the final resting ground.

Left holding a helmet, a badge, and triangle of material that showed his contribution and loyalty to a life that gave very little back, Brooke cried again.

Slowly, a set of eyes found mine, and hot tears once again spilled over my cheeks.

With my eyes down, I was careful not to react in any way. I knew if Jace saw me react, he would, too. The day had been emotional enough that I didn’t want him seeing my reaction. The one of utter heartbreak.

When they did the bell service, I lost it. Completely lost it.

A bell service. A last alarm. They’re called home.

“We will now ring the bell for Firefighter Logan Jennings.” Wade said, holding back his own emotions. “The bell recalls a time when the firefighter is called to service and then again to signal the alarm has ended. For our comrade, Firefighter Logan William Jennings’s, last alarm. He is coming home.”

They rang the bell and then recited the firefighter’s prayer.

“When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage, give me strength to save a life, whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it is too late, or save an older person from the horror of that fate. Enable me to be alert, and hear the weakest shout, quickly and efficiently to put the fire out. I want to fill my calling, to give the best in me, to guard my friend and neighbor, and protect his property. And if according to your will I must answer death's call, bless with your protecting hand, my family one and all.”

T
HE DAY
Logan was buried was the first time I had seen Jace in his Class A uniform, and I had to admit, he looked good. Despite the sorrow of the day, that uniform was appealing to the eyes.

He turned slightly. His body remained in line with the car, and just his head moved at the sound of my heels on the pavement. His brow furrowed, lines forming in the outer corners, his expression bordering on painful, his eyes dark to match his lashes.

“What are you thinking?” Jace asked leaning against the car, his tie loosened from his neck, revealing his skin. He looked so good in his Class A uniform that it was hard not to notice, even with the gloom of the day.

“I’m thinking about how good you look right now.”

He threw me a smirk and winked, but the sadness was still very much there. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

It was nice to see that side of him for once today.

Ordinarily Jace is magnetic and appealing, sensitive and charming. Like right now, but I knew this was just a glimpse. A moment.

Ordinarily, under the right circumstances, he could make the best of any situation and never for a moment doubt himself, but today he had a broken heart. It was natural.

He came up beside me to wrap his arms around my waist. His tender lips pressed to my skin and then up my shoulder. With his right hand, he swept my hair to one side to kiss the back of my neck. “I love you.”

I watched Jace closely the day we laid his best friend to rest, afraid if I took my eyes off him, he would break down. Sometimes I wondered what the hardest part of all this really was for him.

I think it was the hardest to accept the fact that Logan was now gone. His hero was no longer with him. And that’s what it is about death, right? Acceptance?

That’s what you were lacking in the beginning. It’s the unknown of what life would be like without them.

It’s a change you never wanted to happen, let alone accept.

I knew his anger would come. And it did that night, while we were outside.

“I’m so fucking pissed!” Jace spat, giving his rage away. The beer in his hands smashed against the pavement outside Brooke’s parents’ home. “It shouldn’t have been like this! He wasn’t supposed to die!”

Axe and Denny tended to Jace, something I knew I couldn’t do right now.

My attention was on Brooke, I couldn’t leave her right now. I didn’t want to.

She looked completely disoriented.

The reminder, the anxiety it brought with it, stung my eyes.

“I feel like the grief has settled into a dull ache felt deep in my bones,” she said. “A reminder that it might always be there.”

I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.

By the end of the day, my head was throbbing from all the crying. I was dehydrated from shedding so many tears.

I couldn’t imagine how Brooke felt.

The thought of losing Jace absolutely terrified me.

Using courage I didn’t know I had, I was there for my friend, knowing if it were me, she would have done the same.

Though I tried to put myself in her shoes constantly and feel what she was feeling, still I thought even that wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be as bad as what she was feeling.

My friend in high school lost her brother in a car accident when we were fifteen. They were twins and consequently very close. She had told me, when I asked what she was feeling, to imagine the worst pain. Imagine how you would feel if they were taken from you, and then multiply that a hundred times, and that’s about what it feels like. Because, as she said, you can never be prepared for how badly it will hurt when they’re taken. No amount of words could express the sadness.

That I could understand, in part, as I’d never had someone taken from me like that. And though Logan was like my brother, it wasn’t as hard for me as it was for Brooke.

I sat there with Brooke until her tears dried. Until she didn’t want to talk anymore. She spoke every once in a while, remembering little things he said to her, their last kiss, their last conversation, their last moment of intimacy. The way his eyes looked when she said she loved him. The way he cuddled Amelia in the mornings before he left for work.

Brooke’s Aunt Carol had made her way over and proceeded to tell her how she once lost her dog, as if that was comparable. It was insulting to her as far as I was concerned.

I wanted to punch her aunt for even thinking that would make Brooke feel better.

“I don’t need to hear anyone else’s story,” she said to me when her aunt left.

“You need Kari here . . . ”

Brooke gave me a smile as she looked at Kari in the distance, talking with Denny who looked red-faced, more than likely hearing shit he thought he’d never hear at a funeral.

“I do need her. I need her to tell these people to leave me alone.” She looked at me, obviously hoping I understood, and I did. “I don’t want to hear how they had loved ones who died and how you get over their death. And I certainly don’t need them to understand or sympathize with me.” Brooke’s voice took on a sterner tone. She was upset, feeling the same way Jace was feeling, and I couldn’t blame her. It was one aspect of funerals I didn’t understand.

“I know what you mean.” Throughout the evening, that was exactly what she’d received. Here was a woman who was grieving, and others were looking past that. I know they were just trying to offer some last words to her, but that wasn’t what she needed.

People always wanted to share their story and what happened to them. Brooke needed someone to just be there. No words were even needed. If anything, saying nothing was respectful. Give them space.

If they want to talk, they will.

Give them space to honor that last call.