Home Again

“How’s my best girl?” he said.

She smiled. “Fine. Is everything ready?”

He shrugged, feeling his nervousness return. “I hope so. I spoke with Father MacLaren about a million times yesterday. He said my choice in music was … unusual, but he let me do what I wanted.”

This time her smile was a little shaky. “Good.”

He took her hand, gazed into her eyes. “Are you up to this?”

She nodded. Before she could answer, Madelaine came into the living room behind them. Lina stepped back and Angel walked into the house.

He couldn’t believe how breathtakingly gorgeous Madelaine looked. She was wearing an elegant navy blue wool dress and a single strand of pearls. She smoothed the creaseless lines of her dress. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s go,” he answered.

For a second she looked scared, and he understood. He reached out her hand and smiled when she took it. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

The three of them left the house and climbed into the warm Mercedes. Wordlessly, each steeped in his or her own thoughts and memories, they drove to the church.

Angel pulled up at the curb and killed the engine. The huge brick church glinted in the last rays of the setting sun. Frost glittered on the mullioned windows and sparkled on the slanted roof.

Together, hand in hand, they walked up the walkway to the two huge open doors of the church. The first thing Angel noticed were the candles—they were everywhere, dozens and dozens of white candles standing on brass and silver candelabras, their dancing golden light sprayed against the walls. Boughs of evergreen were looped along the pews, held together by huge white bows. Noble firs lined the west wall, their green branches draped with glittering golden ribbon and tiny white lights.

And on the altar there was a huge heart-shaped wreath, made of white roses and evergreens held together by golden ribbons. In the center of the wreath was a picture of Francis, his face crinkled in a big smile, his hand lifted in a thumbs-up sign.

He looked so young and naive and full of life…

“Ah, Jesus,” Angel whispered as the grief hit.

“I haven’t seen that picture in years,” Madelaine said quietly beside him. “We took it up at Lake Crescent about three summers ago…”

He heard the throaty catch in her voice and it almost undid him. It took all his willpower to keep the grief at bay. He turned to her, saw the sadness that had settled deep in her eyes, and he tried to smile. He wanted to tell her again how much she meant to him, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. Not here, not now, when Francis seemed so close and the pain of his death was so frighteningly real….

She touched his cheek, and he started, realizing how long he’d been standing there, saying nothing, just staring into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.” He glanced at the people congregated behind them.

The smile she gave him was steeped in confidence. “Of course you can. It’s not a funeral—it’s a mass to celebrate his life.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a second, trying to banish the sorrow that kept creeping into his throat. He wanted so badly for this to be a celebration of Francis’s life, but sweet Jesus, it was hard. How could you celebrate when all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never come out again?

He followed Lina and Madelaine into the front pew, surprising himself when he genuflected. He thought instantly of Francis—how his big brother would have laughed to see Angel kneeling in the house of the Lord…

Angel clung to that memory. That was the Francis he wanted to remember. Not the priest, but the big brother who’d tried to protect Angel… the man who’d taken care of Madelaine and Lina all those years, and never asked for anything from anyone except that he be allowed to love them…

After what seemed like hours, Father MacLaren strode to the altar, his white robes radiant in the candlelight.

“We come together in this holiday season to remember one of our own. Father Francis Xavier DeMarco, who was one of the shining lights in this parish. You all remember him as a loving, caring, gentle man who was always there for you when you needed him, beside you with a ready smile and a willing heart. We have mourned his passing and will continue to, even as we celebrate that he is now with the God he loved so keenly in life.” He turned, lifted a hand toward Angel. “We have with us Father Francis’s brother, who was unable to attend the funeral, and wishes now to say a few words about his brother.”

Madelaine gave his hand a squeeze.

Angel swallowed. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, just standing. Unsteady on his feet, he walked toward the altar and took his place beside Father MacLaren.

He looked out at the crowd of oval faces and felt suddenly out of place. All these people—strangers—knew Francis better than he did; each one of them probably had better, truer words to say.

The sadness that came was almost overwhelming. Angel bowed his head. After what seemed like hours, he found his voice. “You all know a different Francis than I did,” he started softly, finding his way through the darkness one word at a time. “You speak of a caring, quiet priest, but that’s not who I knew at all. I knew a big brother who always waited to walk me home after football practice, even though he had so many better things to do; I knew a lanky kid with a crooked grin who always believed the best in me, even when I proved him wrong. I knew a boy who stole cookies with me one day, and then made me eat them all because wasting food was a bigger sin than stealing. I knew a young man who held me when I cried and promised that someday he would make things okay….

“But I never gave him the chance. I used to think I was afraid to believe in him; truth is, I was afraid to believe in myself. If I had …” He sighed. “If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here, talking to you about a man I loved but didn’t know…”

He turned and looked at the picture of Francis in the wreath, and suddenly felt a deep longing for his brother. He couldn’t seem to latch on to his memories, couldn’t find one that he could talk about. He wanted to find something that would make them all laugh, take this wrenching moment and make it something different, something that didn’t hurt so badly.