“No, but I’ve been nearby. If you needed me, I was close.”
He opened his arms and Blythe buried her head in his comfort. “I need you now,” she cried. “Tomorrow is the funeral.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“Will you be there?”
“I will be.”
“Will you sit near me?”
He pulled her into a hallway where they were alone. “Of course, I will.”
She let herself cry harder, knowing no one could see her. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back.
“You’ve been so strong for your sister. She’d be lost without you.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. I’m so proud of you, Blythe.”
She let more of the tears fall that she’d struggled to hold inside. The stress of the last few days was wearing on her. She had no idea whether she was doing the right things for Bree, but Tucker said she was, and that made her feel better.
The service at the church was standing-room only, in a building that held five thousand people. Blythe sat in the row behind her sister and parents, with her older sister, Brooke, and her husband. Several times, she reached out and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder, and Bree covered Blythe’s with her own.
The casket, surrounded by the color guard, followed the single bagpiper down the aisle. As it passed, airmen raised sabers, one by one.
After the pastor spoke, scriptures were read, Zack’s commander spoke, and one of Zack’s childhood friends read a poem written by his mother. The stanzas connected his deep reverence for the natural world with reminders that he was on the right path in his life and faith, and urged people not to weep for him because of his sacrifice.
Mark was asked to sing, and when he did, Blythe thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. Her father’s voice always brought her to tears, but this time, it was different. Usually she cried tears of joy when he sang. Today it was about sacrifice and tragedy.
Every time people said Zack was with God now, or he was a hero for serving his country, all Blythe could think was that he’d left his wife, the woman he’d loved—the woman who loved him. Heroism didn’t matter, love did.
Blythe had no more tears to shed. She wanted to go home and hide in her room, away from everyone, but she couldn’t. Bree needed her. Even though Brooke was there, Blythe was the sister Bree turned to.
She raised her head and looked two rows behind her, where Tucker and Jace sat.
Tucker’s eyes were red; he’d been crying, too. She wanted to look at Jace, to acknowledge his presence, but she couldn’t look away from Tucker. She wished he could’ve sat with her, held her hand, given her his comfort. Moments earlier, she’d wanted to leave alone, not see anyone for days. Now she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be with Tucker. She wanted him to take her away, comfort her, and tell her all of this was a bad dream.
Blythe couldn’t take her eyes from Tucker’s, but when her mother tou
ched her arm, she turned around.
“When will it be over?” she whispered.
“Soon,” Paige answered.
The colonel who had been with the family when the casket landed at Peterson, and at the visitation the day before, came forward and began a roll call of Zack’s squadron. When their names were called, each soldier in attendance answered. Then the colonel called Zack’s name.
“Captain Fox?” There was no response.
“Captain Zackary Fox?”
“Captain Zackary Jonathan Fox?”
That was Zack’s final roll call. His name called three times and left unanswered meant he had left his unit.
The casket was being transported to the cemetery by Humvee, also per Bree’s request, but this time she agreed to ride in the limousine with her family. Blythe kept her arm around her sister as they walked to the car. When she stumbled, Blythe could not catch her quickly enough. Before she realized what was happening, Tucker was there, helping her hold her sister up, getting her to the car.