nodded, giving him a smile. He squeezed her hand again, then walked away from the grave toward the church.
Monty Bannister also shook Jodie’s, then Lauren’s hand. “I hope that you’ll be able to remember some of the good times you had with your father,” he said, giving them both a winsome smile. “And that you feel God’s presence in your lives.”
Jodie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She hadn’t spent a lot of time with God lately and doubted that He cared to spend much time with her. Nor was she so sure which memories of her father she would be remembering. When she and her sisters had come to visit, it was as if he hadn’t known what to do with his daughters other than make them work. Each summer had been fraught with the tension of living with a man who, as sheriff of Saddlebank County, saw life in black-and-white. No shades of gray. A man who for some reason was especially hard on Jodie.
So she simply murmured her thanks. She was quite certain that even if Monty knew exactly what her father was like, he would have said the same thing.
“You girls make sure you call us if you need anything,” Ellen told them, clinging to both their hands, her smile warm.
“Thank you,” Jodie and Lauren said at the same time.
Jodie had only vague remembrances of Monty, Ellen and their three children, Keira, Heather and Lee. Keith had taken them only a few times to Refuge Ranch, the Bannister spread. Because Lauren and Erin were older, they’d hung out with Keira and Heather, leaving Jodie to play with either the cats in the barn or the horses.
“How are you girls holding out?” Aunt Laura slipped an arm around Lauren, giving Jodie a quick smile.
“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Lauren said, wiping her eyes. “I feel so bad that we didn’t take the time to see him before he died.”
“Oh, honey, you meant to,” their aunt assured her. “I know you were making plans. He was excited at the thought of seeing you both. I’m sure you have good and bad memories, and like cousin Monty said, I hope you can find some of the good ones,” she continued.
“Thanks, Aunt Laura,” Jodie said, giving her a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“We’ll have to make sure to get together while you girls are still here. Knowing you, Jodie, you’ll be gone with the first puff of wind sifting through the valley.” Aunt Laura raised her finely plucked eyebrows. “I’ll give you girls a moment while I make certain the caterer has taken care of the lunch.”
As their aunt marched off to do her duty, Lauren took a deep breath, blinking back tears, and pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her dress. “I can’t believe I feel this way,” she sniffed. “I didn’t think I’d be so weepy.”
“Part of it might be because Erin’s not here,” Jodie said, tucking her arm in her sister’s. “You two always had a special bond.”
A bond that Jodie, at times, envied. Her twin sisters always seemed so self-sufficient, and though they included Jodie in many of their antics and adventures, she often felt like an outsider to their relationship.
“Why wouldn’t she come?” Lauren asked, the pain she felt evident in her voice.
“Obviously something’s happening in her life and she needs to deal with it.” That was all Jodie could say.
Her sister gave her a wan smile. “How are you doing? Today can’t be easy for you, either.”
Though Lauren had often witnessed Jodie and her father’s altercations, she had never been subject to his intense anger, as Jodie had been whenever she messed up. It didn’t help that the two of them had the same quick temper.
Jodie had spent way more hours in “time out” than her sisters. It had only increased her rebelliousness, finally ending with her stopping her visits to the ranch.
“It’s hard,” she said now, emotions braiding through her memories as she tried to find the good ones that the pastor suggested she look for.
Lord, forgive me, she thought. I can’t think of many.
Keith’s funeral service was harder to deal with than Finn had expected it would be.
Though Finn came to church every Sunday, the atmosphere there today and at the graveyard afterward reminded him of his fiancée’s funeral four years ago. Except then the church had been packed and the people surrounding the grave spilled over into the parking lot—all grieving with Finn over a life taken so young.
As he’d followed Denise’s casket out of the church that sad day, Finn thought he would never love anyone again, never find anyone as sweet and caring as Denise.
And he hadn’t, though lately a loneliness had begun to affect him. Loneliness and a growing dissatisfaction with his life.
It didn’t help that, after popping erratically in and out of his life over the past thirteen years, his mother had contacted him again a couple weeks ago. After Denise had died, the only thing he’d got from his mom had been a card with the words I’m sorry scrawled inside. He was thankful he’d had the support of the Moore family and Keith during that time.
Finn shook off the heavy emotions as he looked down at the memorial card the funeral director had handed him when he came into the church. Keith’s stern face with his distinctive handlebar mustache stared back at him, his eyes distant. The picture was an older one Finn had taken when he and Keith had spent more time together. Was it his imagination or did he see the loneliness the man had endured over the years?
Remorse washed over Finn again as he thought of how he had neglected him recently.
At one time, Finn had spent all his extra hours at Keith’s ranch, helping him with his horses while he learned farrier work. After Finn’s own father died and his mother had abandoned him, Keith had been like a father to him.
But the past few years Keith had pulled away. Hadn’t returned Finn’s calls, wouldn’t come to church. Finn had been grieving the loss of Denise, lost in his own sorrow.
He smoothed his hand over his tie, blinked back the fatigue that pulled at him after a long shift and forced a sympathetic smile to his face as the line moved on.
Lauren, one of the twins, was the first person he saw, her face drawn, her long blond hair and dark dress a sharp contrast to her younger sister’s dark hair and red dress. The only similarity was the narrowness of their features. Like their mother, Finn thought, remembering a family photo he had seen the first time he’d visited the ranch.
Finn was surprised that Erin, Lauren’s twin sister, was absent. Of all the girls she seemed to love being at the ranch every summer the most.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Finn said to Lauren when he stepped up to her.
“Thanks for coming, Finn. My father thought a lot of you.” She gave him a weary smile. “I’m sure you’ll miss him.”
“I will. He was good to me.”
He moved on to Jodie, surprised once more at
