Sarah Sparrow - A Guide for Murdered Children

They got to church in time to follow the hearse for the twenty-minute drive to Clinton Township, where Deputy Doheny would be laid to rest at Resurrection Cemetery. (Willow thought it couldn’t have been more appropriately named.) The turnout was stately and the pageantry magnificent. Hundreds of officers from Metro Detroit and practically every county in the state comprised the motorcade with its flashing blue and red lights. Lieutenant Governor Calley and other politicians attended as well. Officers came from across the country to honor him. Among the sea of onlookers quietly lining the sidewalks as the vehicles passed—the throngs were there to honor the deputy and the children, all children who’d been harmed, thrown away and forgotten—were wounded vets of many wars. Stories had been written in national magazines about the hero’s remorse over the accidental killing of a boy during the time he served in Afghanistan. The articles shared the theme of PTSD and were for the most part sensitively written, each stressing the poetic justice of Daniel bringing a child-murderer to justice.

As they stood at the graveside, Willow grew agitated. He kept stealing glances at Lydia. She’d promised him she would stay—“I’ll stay long enough to go to Daniel’s funeral”—but what did that actually mean? Would she collapse beside him the moment they lowered the casket? Or would her passing be more in keeping with the drama and elegance of the Great Mystery… would he become lost in thought (as he was this very moment) and then turn to find her gone?

To calm himself, he conjured Dixie. Her voice, her sounds, her smells… Should prolly just marry the girl . A few nights ago, to get him out of his head, she dragged his two left feet to Oilcan Harry’s for line dancing. He had more fun than he’d ever had when he was high. Watching Dixie in her boots and cowgirl hat as she ran through the coordinated routine was sexy as fuck. He felt bad for not inviting her to Daniel’s funeral but just couldn’t see how that would work. It might well be his last moments with Lydia and their experience had been too private, too mystical, too insular to tolerate the presence of a lover. (Besides, the nature of his attentions toward the deputy might easily be misinterpreted.) When he gave Dixie a half-ass plausible explanation for the snub, she backed right off, pretending that she understood. But he knew she was hurt. He would need to make it up to her.

Maybe put a ring on it…

They stood with Owen and Adelaide as the box ratcheted into the ground. Willow tried to suppress the ludicrous optics of Lydia expiring and tumbling into the grave.

When it was done, the group walked to their cars. Adelaide took notice of her ex’s firm grip on Lydia’s arm. Her first reflex was jealousy (which surprised her), but then she chastised herself and actually thought it courtly, if a touch chauvinistic. Of course the real reason behind Willow’s ministrations was his terror that Lydia was about to vanish into thin air. As they moved along with the dispersing crowd, they small-talked, mostly about their daughter and grandson. Adelaide said they were having a barbecue next week and told him to mark his calendar. Pace had promised to bring the family down from Marlette. They hugged goodbye and went their separate ways.

About a hundred yards off, Willow saw a couple standing near his car. They were arguing—the woman was, anyway—and the man tried to restrain her. Suddenly, she looked toward the detective and pointed, wild-eyed. She lurched toward them, the man straggling after.

It was Elaine and Ronnie Rummer.

Willow hadn’t spoken to them since their children’s murders were solved. He’d meant to and didn’t know why he kept putting that off. It was a horrible thing to do—not to make that personal connection—a callous and egregious gaffe, especially after how gracious they’d been during his visit. He flinched, girding himself for impending violence. Maybe Elaine snapped again and was coming after him to repay the insult…

Only when the Rummers were upon them did the question arise: How would Maya react to seeing her parents? Or would she have any reaction at all? Perhaps “Maya” and “Lydia” were already gone… Again, he was plagued with the image of Lydia conveniently dropping dead on the spot. But Elaine bypassed him entirely and went straight to the deputy, tenderly taking her hands in hers. A shiver went through the woman and she closed her eyes, as in prayer. When she opened them, she said, “It’s you.”

Ronnie and Willow hung back.

“Mama,” whispered Maya, her emotions in check.

What presented itself to Elaine Rummer was a hybrid of her baby girl and a mature young woman—what Maya would have become. “I felt you… I told Dubya!—I told him that for a few months, I’ve wanted to live . And now I know why! The Lord showed me why… I don’t know how I knew you were here and didn’t know how I would find you— today … Ronnie thought I was crazy for wanting to come! I didn’t tell him why I wanted to”—she laughed through her tears—“because then he would have had me locked up again! But I’m not crazy, am I? It is you… I’m not crazy, am I, Maya?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “You’re not. And I’m so sorry, Mama, for everything that happened—for how you suffered. That you did to yourself what you did.”

“And he—your brother was here too?”

“Yes. He was here today.”

“I knew it! I felt it. And he’s gone now?”

“Yes.” Maya looked shyly toward the ground. “We weren’t supposed to see you,” she said. “There usually isn’t time. I wanted—I planned to come visit, even after Troy left. But this morning I knew I wouldn’t have to. Because I knew I’d see you here.”

Elaine turned to Willow. “Did you know? That they’d come back? Did you know they were here?” The detective somberly nodded and she turned to her husband, ecstatic. “He knew . Our old friend Willow knew … he knows!”

“I have to leave now,” said Maya. She embraced her father to stop him from quaking. “Take care of her, Poppy—and take care of yourself . I want you to be happy. Troy and I want both of you to be happy.” She hugged Elaine again and told her she loved her.

“Baby, please!” said Elaine. “Can’t you stay?”

“I can’t, Mama, but I’m here now . Remember what I said that time about the spiderweb?”

“That it’s better than coming home to nothing,” said Elaine, and they both laughed. The woman’s ruined face looked beatific.

“Know that I’ll never leave you,” Maya said.

They left the cemetery and drove toward Lydia’s home. When they got to the junction, she told him to take North Avenue instead of the M-19, which would have been a straight shot to Richmond. He did as he was told.

“Do you know what’s strange?” she said. “In the last few days, I’ve started wondering about the terrible things we did—Daniel and Lydia, and Maya and Troy… and the terrible things that Rhonda and José and the others did too. I mean, wondering about the purpose of it. It’s not like I have guilt—not exactly—or even that I’ve anguished over it… it’s more of a—meditation . That’s the word Lydia would use! A meditation on the purpose of it all. Does that make any sense?”

“Yes.” He had a queasy sense of where she was going.

“It’s made me question—it got me thinking about the quality of mercy. If the children who came back can be forgiven for the things they did to the people who hurt them… well, it made me wonder about Roy Eakins and his son. Isn’t it possible they’ll be forgiven too? At first I thought that was such a miserable idea, a useless and evil idea—to show them that sort of compassion. But is it? How can it be? Maybe it’s a beautiful idea, because… can’t monsters be forgiven? How can someone, some actor in the Great Mystery, not be forgiven? Is it so wrong, Willow, to be wondering that? And I wondered if I was the first—of those who came back, of the children of the train—if I was the first to have those kinds of thoughts. Though maybe it’s just a ‘haywire’ thought! I guess I’m secretly hoping it is… because if you begin to question the purpose behind the moment of balance , then who are you, what are you? What have you become? Do you think it’s an evil thing, Willow, to desire a moment of balance ? Or worse: Do you think it’s evil that such a thing, a vengeful thing, even exists? I’m so glad I’m leaving because I really don’t want to follow that through to its logical end! What if it is a terrible thing, a wrong thing—and what if when your moment of balance comes, you choose to refuse it? What if that’s actually something within the power of those who return? To say ‘no’… do you think that’s possible, Willow? What if saying no is the next step, part of the evolution of the Great Mystery? What if the Great Mystery has been waiting centuries for the children of the train to demonstrate that quality of mercy? I’ve been thinking about all these things…”