P. Parrish - Thicker Than Water

“I know now,” he said.

Knew what? How everything could change in one split second? How one decision could alter the course of a life? How precious it all was?

One split second, one decision, and the road of his life had taken an unexpected turn. He would never wear a uniform again; how could he now? He had done what he had to do. And because of it, Eric’s road had taken its own turn. But that wasn’t why he had done it.

He heard a sound and turned. Two people were coming over the rise, an old man and a younger woman. He was surprised to see Joyce Novick and Willard Jagger walking toward him.

Joyce smiled when she saw him. Willard did too, but Louis wasn’t sure it was from recognition.

“How you doing?” Joyce asked.

“Good,” Louis answered.

Joyce had her arm linked through Willard’s. “This is it, Mr. Jagger,” she said, nodding toward the mound.

Willard looked down and frowned slightly. “There’s no headstone,” he said.

Joyce looked at Louis. “I think someone just forgot to put it here, Mr. Jagger. But we can get one, if you want,” she said.

Willard was looking at the grave. Louis paused, then reached in his pocket.

“Mr. Jagger?”

Williard looked up at him. Louis held out the picture of Kitty. “I think you should have this back,” he said.

Willard stared at it for moment, then took it.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

Then his eyes went blank and he turned to Joyce, holding out the picture. She took it and slipped it in his shirt pocket. Willard’s eyes went back to the lavender blanket of flowers. Then his eyes drifted up to the tree’s canopy.

“Jacaranda tree,” he said, pointing. “Two weeks every year. That’s all they bloom.”

Louis followed Willard’s finger, looking up at the bare branches. They were quiet for a moment. Then Willard turned to Joyce.

“I’m ready to go home now,” he said.

She looked at Louis and he nodded, telling her there would be another time for talk. She led Willard back over the rise.

Louis’s eyes were drawn back to the grave. It was so quiet. Not a sound, not a bird, not a human voice, just his own heart beating slowly, steadily in his chest. For a second, it terrified him, this silence. Then he knew it was all right. She was quiet now, and it was all right.

It was time to go. His eyes went from the mound of lavender flowers up to the bare branches. Then he turned and walked back over the rise. He would come back when the flowers did.