Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

The door swung open and Claire was standing there. Her eyes were red and swollen. She chewed on her bottom lip as she looked up at him with big, sad eyes. It took all of his well-trained self-control not to grab her and hold on tight.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He felt his rage ignite under his skin. All she needed to do was point him in the right direction and he would take care of it.

“Dad.” The tears streamed down her face as her throat closed on the words.

She didn’t need to say anything else. He knew. He felt her pain. All of it.

“He’s gone, baby?”

She nodded, a sob erupting from her mouth. She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. Grunt was desperate to touch her. Desperate. Torture would have been better than suffering the distance between them when Claire needed him.

“I…” She looked away.

>

Grunt swallowed a growl. How as he supposed to act? What was he supposed to say? He was about ten seconds away from falling to his knees and begging her to let him love her. To let him take care of her, in any way she’d allow. Her eyes swung back up to his, glassy with tears.

“I need you, Samuel,” she whispered, her lips trembling with each word.

Grunt closed the distance between them in record time. He lifted her right off her feet and cradled her to his chest. “You’ve got me, baby. You’ve always got me.”

He held her while she sobbed. Never in his life had he felt as grateful as he did in that moment. Grateful for the chance to be Claire’s rock. To hold her hand. To dry her tears. To keep her close.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.”

Over her shoulder he spotted Matt coming up the path, holding Jena’s hand. Grunt’s muscles tensed in readiness for whatever was coming. Matt stared at them for a minute, then gave Grunt a tight-lipped nod, clearly signalling approval. Grunt was still reeling when Matt closed the door behind them.

“I’ll explain everything when you want me to. You only have to ask,” Grunt said against Claire’s soft blonde hair.

She shook her head. “Matt told me everything already.”

Well, hell. He lowered himself to sitting. And right there, on the Donaldson doorstep, in the bright Scottish sun, he held his woman and gave her a safe place to grieve.

35

The funeral took place three days later on a warm Friday morning.

The Presbyterian church was filled to capacity as people came from all over to attend. Jena could have sworn the whole town was there to support the Donaldsons. The old building had been decorated with bunches of blue and white flowers. Someone played soft piano music. People were quiet.

Heather sat in the front row, flanked by the twins. Grunt sat beside Claire, sombre in his black form-fitting suit. Jena sat beside Megan, holding her hand while Matt walked to the front of the church. He was so handsome in his black suit, pristine white shirt and black tie. It made Jena’s heart ache to see the sadness in his eyes.

Matt nodded to the minister, took his place at the carved wooden lectern and looked out over the crowd. Jena gave him a tremulous little smile and watched his eyes soften.

“Dad was a great believer in accepting circumstance and doing the best you could with it.” His voice was strong. Jena wrapped an arm around Megan’s shoulders as she sobbed quietly beside her. Matt had wanted Jena seated with the family. He wanted her with him. And Jena was happy to give him what he wanted.

“He was also famous for his dodgy sense of humour, which often came out in the face of adversity. When he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s he had these T-shirts made,” Matt said with a sad smile. There were titters of laughter throughout the church. People who obviously knew what he was talking about. “The one he had made for me said: ‘I’m with stupid.’ The one he wore said: ‘Who the hell are you?’” There was more laughter. “He followed that up with a shirt quoting Popeye on the front—‘I am what I am.’ And on the back it said: ‘Who was that again?’” More laughter.

Matt looked down for a minute before he carried on. Jena felt her throat tighten as she fought the tears that threatened. Heather sat in the seat along from her, tears streaming down her cheeks, but a wide smile on her face. Proud of her son. Devastated by her loss. Overwhelmed by all of it.

“I was lucky.” Matt smiled at his mother. “I am lucky. I grew up knowing some things for certain. I knew my family loved me. I knew they loved each other. And I knew my mum and dad were devoted to each other.”

Claire made a strangled little noise and Grunt wrapped her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest as her shoulders shook with silent tears.

“My dad was my example in all areas. He taught me how to be a man. He taught me that life wasn’t always easy or fair, but you accepted it and lived it as best as you could. He taught me that forgiveness was more important than revenge. Facing your fears more important than courage. And loving a good woman, having a family and helping your community were goals worth living for. He led a full life. He loved hard. Laughed hard. Played hard. Worked hard. He said if it was worth doing it was worth doing right. And he did it all the right way. Even his illness and now his death. He died the right way because he didn’t leave his family alone now he’s gone. We have the love for each other that he helped us build, we have the friendships he helped forge and we have a lifetime full of memories to make us smile while we wait to see him again. My father, my dad, will not be missed. Because he will always be with us.”

Matt strode from the lectern and took his place beside Jena on the pew. She wound her fingers through his and held on tight—thanking God, and Bruce Donaldson for the man his son had become.

Most of the mourners went from the graveyard to Heather’s house. Claire clung to Grunt, who looked like he wanted to punch someone for hurting her. His helplessness at her distress was a painfully beautiful thing. Megan busied herself playing hostess so her mother wouldn’t have to, although she stopped frequently to hug Matt. It was as though she was topping up her reserves of strength by taking from him. Each time he held her tight, kissed her hair and said something to make her smile.