Брайан Фриман - Funeral for a Friend

“Take all the time you need, Stride. Get stronger. Then you come back to me, okay? I like having you on my island.”

He leaned forward with a wince and kissed her cheek. “Keep your feet off my desk.”

She gave him a grin and trudged up the grassy hill with her hands in her pockets.

Stride waited for Serena and Cat, enjoying their smiles from a distance. The days since he returned home had made both of them look free, too, as if they’d all been given a second chance. They wandered away from the water and joined him, sitting down in chairs on either side of him. Sand clung to their wet bare feet. Cat leaned over and put her head on his shoulder, and Serena took his hand. The three of them sat there in silence, with the waves rolling in and out, leaving sparks of sunlight in the surf. To their left, the city skyline sprawled across the hillside. On the horizon, he could see an ore boat muscling through the water toward the lift bridge.

It was a perfect Duluth day.

“I’m going over to Drew and Krista’s,” Cat said, when half an hour had passed. “I told them I’d watch Michael for the evening.”

“Have fun,” he told her.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, which was the question he now heard fifty times a day.

“Not a thing,” he said again.

“Did you hear about Brayden? Looks like he’s going to be okay.”

“He is. Thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“One of these days, Cat, you’re going to realize how much you do.”

The girl shrugged as she got out of the chair, as if she didn’t believe what he said, but he knew she was secretly pleased. She tilted her chin and closed her eyes against the sun, and the breeze rustled her chestnut hair. Looking like that, she was an adult, ready to take on the entire world. Then, with a smile that was girlish again, she bent down and put one hand lightly against Stride’s chest with her fingers spread wide, and she cupped her hand behind her ear, as if listening to something.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Heart’s still beating,” she said. “Just checking.”

“Oh, go away.”

Cat giggled and ran away like a teenager, her hair flying. His eyes followed her until she disappeared over the dunes back to the cottage.

Then he was alone with Serena.

He was alone with his wife.

She took out something from her pocket, and he realized it was a suncatcher, shaped like a dragonfly, its wings spread, its tail like tiny jewels.

“Keepsake?” he asked.

“It belonged to Andrea,” she said. “I asked Denise if I could have it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I felt like I wanted something to remember her by. We were more alike than I ever would have thought.”

Serena held it up to the sunlight, where he saw the glass glinting in purple, orange, pink, and blue.

Stride smiled. “Forgive every sin.”

The perfect day went on. They needn’t say anything more to each other. The sun cast shadows over the beach as it waned, and the people began to turn into silhouettes. He felt Serena’s hand around his in a light, loving touch. Soon enough, they’d have to get on with life. Soon enough, he’d need to think about what came next. But not now. Not yet. He’d never really understood the idea of living for every moment as it happened. He’d always been too busy thinking about the next one to stop the carousel. Until he was shot. Until he died. Then, when he opened his eyes in the recovery room and saw Serena standing over him, he’d finally understood what an incredible gift a single moment could be.

Stride savored the colors he saw, the liquid blue of the lake, the chocolate brown of wet sand, the gold of the dunes. Color was so much better than the deadness of black and white in his dream. Even so, he found that he kept going back to that experience. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the faces he’d seen, each in their own private world. The dream was always with him. If it really was a dream. If it wasn’t something else altogether. A part of him couldn’t be sure.

What had happened to his soul at that moment when his heart stopped?

That moment when he was dead, not living?

All he knew was that he could still hear Cindy’s voice in his head, as she sat next to him on the green bench. So familiar. So real. It didn’t feel like a vision, it felt like her . As if they’d been given one more moment. He kept going back to what she told him, because what she said had made all of the years since she left him take on a whole new meaning.

It was such a simple thing. Why hadn’t he realized it before?

I sent you Serena.

A gift.

A gift from death to life.

“Do you want to go inside, Jonny?” Serena asked him, turning her head and staring at him with her emerald eyes.

Oh, the color of those eyes.

Stride shook his head and didn’t let go of her hand. “Not yet. One more moment.”

Jonathan Stride is having an anniversary — and so am I! It’s now been fifteen years since the release of my debut novel, Immoral , which was also the first book in the Jonathan Stride series. Some great people have been with me all along the way.

Blackstone published the audio edition of Immoral in 2005 and has produced the audio books for every Stride novel since then. Now, with Funeral for a Friend , they are also publishing my print and e-book editions. I have had such a rewarding partnership with them since the very beginning of my career — and I’m honored to have worked with so many talented people there. A big thanks to Haila Williams at Blackstone, who has long been an amazing supporter, friend, and fan. And a special nod to the Blackstone head of library sales, Stephanie Hall, who has not only been a huge advocate for my books, but has become a wonderful friend to me and Marcia (and our cats).

I’m grateful to have tremendous people working on my behalf. Deborah Schneider and her colleagues at Gelfman Schneider, ICM, and Curtis Brown have been my agents, allies, advocates, and friends for more than fifteen years. Special thanks to Cathy Gleason, Alice Lutyens, Josie Freedman, Penelope Burns, Claire Nozieres, and Lucy Morris.

My wife, Marcia, is my partner in everything I do, and she’s been at my side through more than thirty-five years of marriage. She’s not only the first and best advance reader of every new manuscript, she’s also my creative sounding board, my events manager, and my social media guru. I couldn’t do anything without her love and support.

Marcia and I are fortunate to have some amazing friends who provide support for us, including Ann Sullivan (not only a friend but a great advance reader!), Barb and Jerry, Kathy, Sandee, Chuck, Rebecca, Sally, Matt and Paula, and many others. Thanks to them and my whole family for being such a wonderful part of our lives.

And a big, big thanks to the many readers, librarians, book reviewers, booksellers, and bloggers who have joined us on this journey during the last fifteen years. From the people of Duluth to readers across the country and around the world, Marcia and I are so grateful for your enthusiasm and excitement about my books, your help in spreading the word, and your friendship on social media and at events. We look forward to sharing books with you for a long time to come!