Graveminder

Chapter 28

REBEKKAH STOPPED. HER KNEES FELT WEAK. “YOU’RE NOT CRAZY, ARE you? Or if you are, Maylene was crazy, too, and ... fuck. ”

“I wish I was crazy,” he said. His arm helped hold her upright, even as his words caused her to falter.

She shook her head. “Show me.”

Silently then, he led her to Montgomery and Son’s Funeral Home. Elaine—the receptionist, manager, and general assistant—marched toward them as they came in. Her silver-shot hair was swept up in its usual chignon. Her steel-gray skirt, pale rose-colored blouse, and low heels were her standard office wear. When Rebekkah was younger, Elaine had frightened her. The office manager was unlike anyone she had known: forceful, efficient, and stern. Time hadn’t changed that.

“Your father’s absence means it’s just the two of us full-time now,” Elaine began.

“I can’t deal with this today,” Byron muttered. “Is there a body?”

Elaine frowned. “No, but—”

“Then it’ll wait.” He rubbed his face.

“We need—”

“Fine. Call Amity,” he said.

At the sound of Amity’s name, a stab of jealousy went through Rebekkah. Amity has every right to ... whatever. She knew that Byron was the man Amity hadn’t wanted to discuss. In their admittedly sporadic e-mail conversations, Amity had never once mentioned him or the funeral home. She hadn’t even mentioned splitting up with Troy.

The silence stretched out a moment too long, and then Elaine said, “I will call Miss Blue, and you, Byron Montgomery, better get some sleep. I tolerate a lot, but whether you are my boss now or not, I will not be snarled at, young man.”

Elaine turned and disappeared into her office.

“She’s as frightening as I remembered,” Rebekkah whispered.

“She is.” Byron nodded. “And we couldn’t function here without her. I think it would take three people to accomplish what she does in an average day. I will apologize later. First ...” He took a deep breath and gestured for her to follow him.

He led her to the basement and into a storage room. Just inside the door, he turned on the overhead light and locked the door behind them. “I’m not crazy. I wish I was. I really, really wish this was all a delusion or a bad dream, Bek.”

Then he walked over to a pale blue metal cabinet, reached behind it, and pulled it toward him. As he did so, Rebekkah felt her heart race. Her skin tingled all over as if tiny electrical pulses were being forced into her body. This is real. Her lips parted on a sigh as he slid the cabinet to the side.

“Oh ... my ... God.” She breathed the words. “It’s ...”

The tunnel stretched in front of her, beckoning her, and only willpower kept her from racing to it. She stepped toward it as slowly as she could. Something in it hummed, a song sung by a thousand soft voices, and in that song, she heard her name.

She reached forward—and hit a wall.

Byron touched her face. “You’re frightening me right now, Bek.”

Rebekkah forced her gaze away from the tunnel. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to look this happy about going toward death. There are reasons here in this world, good reasons , to feel happy. You need to let yourself free to feel that here.” Byron leaned closer and covered her lips with his.

Rebekkah put both hands on his chest, neither pushing him away nor holding him closer. He put one hand lightly on her hip, and she leaned into his embrace.

The tension in his body relaxed, and he pulled her against him. He kissed her throat. “I wanted you before now, before this week, before this moment. I loved you before this—whether or not you liked hearing it.”

Before she could object, he kissed her again. When he pulled back, he added, “Remember. Please remember what we’ve both known for years, Bek. Even if you weren’t that and I wasn’t this, I would love you. I thought I was awful for it, but I thought of you then ... years ago. You were Ella’s sister, and I thought it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t not want to be nearer to you. The night you kissed me ... If I’d been with anyone else, I wouldn’t have tried to talk to her before I told you what I felt about you. But it was Ella. I needed to tell her first, and then ... then she was gone, and you didn’t want to hear it. You stop me every time I try to talk about it, but I can’t not tell you now. I want to be with you forever. I love you. And you l—”

“No! Stop.” Rebekkah grabbed his arm.

He cupped her cheek and continued as if she hadn’t objected. “I love you, and you love me. We both know it. The problem is that you’re determined not to.”

She stared at him. Not love. She felt a lot of things for him. They were friends; they’d been lovers. That wasn’t love. He’d said it once, but after that first time, he’d avoided the word. It’s not love. She shook her head. “Byron, don’t. You’re upset.”

“I am, but that doesn’t change the facts.” He caressed her cheek with thumb. “Lie to me later if you need to, but right now, before we go over there, you need to listen to me. I know . I’ve known for years, Bek. You love me just as much as I love you. You need to stop lying to both of us about it.”

She stared at him, trying to find words to prove him wrong. There weren’t any. She settled on: “You’re confused. I don’t want to hurt you. Ella died. We ... and then she ... you’re hers . I don’t deserve ...”

He sighed. “She didn’t die because of us, and even if she had, do you think she’d really want us to stay apart? She wasn’t like that. You know that.”

Tears were streaking down Rebekkah’s face. In nine years, they’d never talked about it; she wouldn’t, couldn’t, bear the thought of that conversation. “You were not mine, and she was my sister. What I feel isn’t love. It can’t be. Ever. I don’t have any right to ...”

“Love me?” Byron took both of her hands. “But you do, and it’s well past time for you to accept it. What we have is not about her ... or anything else. It’s about us . Remember that.”

They stood there, at the entrance to the land of the dead, and she tried to think about the things he was saying. I care about him. That doesn’t make it love. She shook her head and looked past him. Her gaze fell on the tunnel; instinctively, she took a step toward it.

His grip on her hands tightened. “Bek?”

The pulsing energy of the tunnel tugged at her; the song just on the other side of the barrier grew louder.

“Rebekkah!”

She pulled her attention from the tunnel and stared directly at him.

“Tell me you won’t stay there,” he demanded. “Promise me that when I walk out of there, you will come with me.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, Rebekkah Barrow.” He released her hands and stepped into the tunnel. “I will take you there, but I will bring you home.”