Hour of Darkness

The Funderal

...The Funeral...





“May our loved ones rest in peace in the arms of the Lord.”





         The preacher's words came to Clarice from a great distance away, though the man stood just a few feet from her, forcing her out of her deadened state of mind and back to a reality she didn't want to face. The numbing sensation had begun deep inside her the moment she'd arrived at her parents' home in time to see the coroner wheeling a body bag from inside the house. A sensation that had steadily spread outward until her whole body had lost all feeling. Any minute now, she was certain, her knees would buckle and she would crumple in a heap right there on the crisp frost laden grass that covered the cemetery grounds.





         “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”





         The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Clarice opened her eyes, unaware they had been closed. She stared blankly at the three bone white caskets, each  hovering above a dark hole that would seal her family's deaths as final. Hanging tensely at her sides, her gloveless hands ached from the bitter November air. She thought about putting them in the pockets of her coat, but the numbness of her mind had robbed her of the ability to command her limbs.





         What was she going to do without her parents? Without Aaron? Her twin brother, her other half. Since they were born, he had always been there. He was a part of her. When life got too rough, he'd always been the one she ran to. He was her refuge. Her family was her refuge. And now it was gone. All of it. How was she supposed to get through this alone? She had no one now.





         Clarice's eyes were vacant as they slowly swept over the crowd of mourners. Her family was well loved, but she didn't know these people. She hadn't lived here for years. Her gaze came to rest momentarily on a uniformed officer standing idle at the perimeter of the crowd of mourners. He  watched the procession for a moment then met Clarice's gaze briefly before scanning the cemetery grounds as if searching for something, or someone. Apparently satisfied by what he didn't find, his attention returned to Clarice.





         Clarice looked away.





         “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The preacher spoke with sincere emotion. This didn't seem to be just a job to him, and for that Clarice was thankful. Her family deserved sincerity. “Now, a moment of silence.”





         Clarice watched the mourners as their heads slowly bowed and their eyes closed. Some were crying openly, others simply stood there with distraught looks on their faces as if they hadn't yet come to terms with this atrocity that had taken the lives of three amazing people. Clarice could sympathize. She wondered if she would ever come to terms with it.





         Her eyes came to rest on a man standing apart from the other mourners near a large headstone. Early thirties, six foot or thereabouts, he wore a black suit and white shirt but no tie, and sunglasses. His short cropped black hair barely responded to the light breeze.





         The man's head wasn't bowed and he seemed to be watching Clarice. She stared back at him for a long moment as she sensed a twinge of recognition. Was he someone she used to know when she had lived here in her early youth? Before she really knew what she was doing, she took a step forward in his direction, a sudden urge to get closer, see him better. She didn't understand the need to know just who he was, but it controlled her, pulling her in his direction. She knew him, she was sure of it. Why that mattered, she didn't know. There were surely others here that she had known when she was younger. So what made this man different?





         “Miss Stuart?” The preacher was suddenly at her side, speaking gently. Clarice blinked and aborted her mission to discover the stranger's identity, then shifted her attention to the preacher. He nodded towards the caskets. Her hands had gone numb so that she had forgotten she was holding three red roses. She stepped forward, walking slowly to the caskets. Her knees felt weak but she somehow maintained a steady forward movement.





         She laid a red rose on each of the caskets, her hands resting momentarily on Aaron's. I'm gonna miss you, big brother, she whispered silently. If she spoke the words aloud, she would break down and perhaps never recover. She looked at the other two caskets. Goodbye, momma...daddy.





         Her eyes blurred as a tightness squeezed her chest till she thought she might pass out. She turned from the caskets and cast one final glance over the crowd of mourners. There was no sign of the man in the sunglasses and suit.





         She walked away without speaking to anyone. She didn't know what to say, and she was uncomfortable with the thought of all the pleas of sympathy that would be thrust at her. She just needed to be away from here. Her walk was urgent, hurried, as she moved towards the cemetery driveway where her Jeep was parked.





         The key shook in her unsteady hands as she tried to unlock the driver door. An ache spread through her face as her jaw clenched tight, fighting the tears she was barely holding at bay.





         A hand touched her shoulder and Clarice gasped, dropping the keys. She spun around and came face to face with the man in the sunglasses and suit.





         “I'm sorry.” He said quickly, gently. “I didn't mean to startle you.”





         Clarice stared at him for a silent moment. He still wore his sunglasses and she couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel them studying her. That sense of recognition came back full force, but her grief prevented her from probing into it more thoroughly, her previous compulsion to know who he was, gone.





         She scooped her keys off the ground  “It's ...okay.” She whispered, unsettled.





         “I just wanted to offer my condolences.” His voice was low, soft, and sincere. She had heard his voice somewhere before, she was certain. But her head was spinning and she couldn't think.





         Clarice looked at him again then inserted the key in the Jeep door, unlocking it. “Do I know you?”





         He seemed to hesitate as she opened the door. “Uh...no. I was a friend of your brother's.” He went silent for a moment, then added in a low, saddened voice, “He was a good man.”





         Tears burned Clarice's eyes. She blinked them back. She was almost away from here, she didn't want to lose it now and in front of a stranger. Although the nagging feeling she knew this man from somewhere made her wonder if he truly was a stranger.





         “Yes.” Clarice whispered. “He was.”





         Another brief silence as the man just looked at her. “I never had the chance to meet your parents.” He said. “But I'm sure they were wonderful people.”





         Clarice swallowed hard and nodded without looking at him. She slipped off her jacket and tossed it inside the Jeep. “The best.” she managed thickly, her throat tight with emotion. Clarice glanced at the man who was just standing there like he had more to say, but she couldn't be here anymore. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Mr...”





         “Oh. Lancaster.” The man offered quick. He held out his hand. “Jonathon Lancaster.”





         Clarice accepted his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lancaster.”





         “Jonathon. Please.”





         Clarice nodded. “Jonathon.”





         Jonathon Lancaster held onto her hand an extra moment as he stared at her. Even the feel of his hand brought on a sense of recognition, but Clarice was certain that if this man had ever touched her before...she would have never forgot it.





         The sudden, unexpected thought caught Clarice off guard and she glanced at her hand, still encased in Jonathon's grip. Jonathon's hand squeezed hers just a fraction before letting go.





         Clarice climbed into the Jeep, a storm of emotions reeling through her...and not all of them due to grief. What the hell was wrong with her?





         Jonathon stepped forward and gripped the edge of the driver door. He glanced towards the officer who was now watching them with interest. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked, his voice heavily laced with concern and...something else she couldn't quite finger.





         She glanced at the cemetery grounds where the three white caskets hovered over their graves. Her jaw tightened and she swallowed hard. Her whole life was about to be lowered into the ground, gone forever. “Yeah.” She lied as the tears rose behind her eyes once more. “I'll be fine.” She reached for the door to close it, then looked at Jonathon's hand still gripping the edge.





         He released it quickly. “Sorry.”





         “Goodbye, Mr-” she started, then added thickly, “Jonathon.”





         He stepped back as she closed the door and started the Jeep.





         Clarice glanced at the caskets one last time as tears began to slide down her face. She couldn't hold them back any longer.





_______________________





Jonathon watched Clarice through the driver window of the Jeep as she pulled away and drove down the cemetery driveway, the Jeep's tires crunching on the frosted gravel.





         Sympathy for the woman filled his eyes, but deeper inside...a cold fear gripped him and wrapped around him like a deadly snake, and slowly began to squeeze.