A Song for Rory

by Cerella Sechrist

  “If there was ever a person you wanted to stand beside you, come what may, she’d be the one.”

  Camille had tears in her eyes, and he heard several sniffles in the audience.

  “That’s a lovely testament to how special this woman must be. It seems like you love her very much.”

  He suddenly realized how much of himself he’d revealed on national television.

  “All of this sounds like a song on your next album,” Kirk said, giving him the chance to lead into a discourse on some of the songs he had planned.

  But even as he spoke about what his next hit single might be, Camille’s words repeated in his head.

  It seems like you love her very much.

  He couldn’t deny how much he loved Rory. But love just wasn’t enough.

  * * *

  “THAT WAS FANTASTIC,” Camille raved at the end of the show. “One of the most touching interviews we’ve ever had. Wouldn’t you agree, Kirk?”

  Kirk was punching away on his phone, obviously having tuned out of the conversation as soon as the show wrapped up. “Hmm? Oh, yes, amazing stuff. So glad you could join us on the show, Sawyer.”

  “Thanks,” he automatically replied, “it was a pleasure being here.”

  Camille faced him, offering an eye roll in Kirk’s direction. Her co-host had already turned his attention back to his phone. “Don’t mind him. I swear, he even showers with that thing.”

  Sawyer’s lips quirked upward. He didn’t mind Kirk’s inattention. In fact, he couldn’t wait to say his goodbyes and call for a car to take him to the airport. The interview had been a positive experience but a draining one.

  “We’d love to have you back again in the future, Sawyer. Can we contact your manager about setting something up?”

  “Of course, that would be great.”

  “Wonderful.” Camille leaned in and placed an air kiss on his cheek. “You know, you’ve got something.”

  He gave her a questioning glance. “Something?”

  “You know. Not just the ‘it’ factor but something more. I think that wherever you go or whatever you do, Sawyer Landry, you’re going to be a success.”

  It was an odd statement, especially on the heels of the issues they’d discussed on the show.

  “Um, thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Camille’s smile was genuine, but before they could chat further, his phone rang. It was probably Perle checking in.

  “Excuse me, I should take this.”

  Camille pointed a thumb in Kirk’s direction. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

  Sawyer gave her a nod and thanked her again before answering his phone as he stepped toward his dressing room.

  “Hello, this is Sawyer.”

  He expected to hear Perle’s voice on the other end of the line. He hadn’t even looked at the caller ID because he’d been so certain it would be her. So he was stunned to hear Rory’s voice in his ear, her words thick and garbled as if they had a bad connection. He couldn’t understand a word she said, though he recognized the rich tone of her voice. It immediately made him miss her, an ache that went deep into his soul.

  “Rory? What? I can’t understand you.”

  There was a pause on her end. A creeping dread stole over him. Rory wouldn’t have called him after the way he ended things if it wasn’t serious. Life-and-death serious.

  “It’s Gavin,” she choked out, and though her voice was thick with emotion, he heard the words clearly enough.

  “He’s dead.”

  * * *

  SAWYER HADN’T EXPECTED to find himself back in Findlay Roads so soon. But Rory’s call had sent him racing back. As soon as he got off the phone with her, he’d called the airlines and changed his flight, rerouting it from Nashville and back to Baltimore. Chase picked him up and drove him back to their parents’ house. His family offered their condolences but didn’t press him to speak. It was too much in too short a time to learn he was losing his father, perhaps his brother and even himself, and then to lose Gavin on top of it.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sure, Gavin had been a military man, and there was always an element of danger in protecting his country. But that was the worst part—Gavin hadn’t even died doing the job he loved so well. He’d been killed by a drunk driver, on his way to the airport to head back to the base. There would be no medals for him. In his death, he had become little more than a statistic.

  And that, perhaps, was what angered Sawyer most of all. Because his friend had been more, so much more. To have his life cut short on the bad choice of a man who had chosen to get behind the wheel intoxicated was beyond a level of injustice that Sawyer could comprehend.

  He was so angry on behalf of Erin and Kitt, the wife and child left behind. He had to curtail this emotion at the funeral when he saw them. Erin was remarkably poised for someone who had suffered such a devastating blow. He approached her in the receiving line, but when he stood before her, he had no words to offer. They looked at each other, conveying their grief in a silent exchange before he reached out and folded her into his arms.

  “You were his world,” he whispered and felt a shudder pass through her. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

  When she pulled back to look at him, tears were brimming in her eyes. “You were his best friend,” she replied. “Time and distance didn’t matter. He never thought of you as anything less.”

  He nodded, his own eyes filling and overflowing. She didn’t know how much he’d needed those words, how desperately he needed to be reminded that Gavin had never seen the last two years as a failing of their friendship. Because, for the rest of his days, Sawyer knew he would regret not taking the time to stay in touch.

  “If there’s anything you need, you or Kitt or Aunt Lenora, call me.”

  She nodded and squeezed his arms. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He knew he had to give others the chance to share their condolences. But for just one moment longer, he held on, knowing that this was the last link to his friend. After this, he truly had to say goodbye.

  Erin let him stand there as long as he needed until the lady behind him cleared her throat. Only then did he pull away. Lenora and Kitt were off to the side, separate from the receiving line. The old woman sat in a chair since her arthritic knees wouldn’t support her to stand for long. Kitt was leaning against her, his pale face somber. He was so young. Would he have any recollection of his father to cherish growing up? He suddenly felt an odd kinship with the boy. They both faced the threat of disappearing memories.

  He went to him and kneeled down on one knee. Kitt shied away. He didn’t know Sawyer that well. Sawyer had been gone for so much of the boy’s childhood.

  “Hey, Kitt.”

  He buried his face in Lenora’s skirt.

  “Your dad was my best friend.” His voice caught. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry.”

  He glanced at Lenora, her faded blue eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Lenora nodded and reached out a hand to rest on his head. “You won’t forget him.”

  He blinked, wondering if she knew what she was saying.

  “You were his friend, and you’ll remember.”

  It was almost as if she was offering up something prophetic. He didn’t know if it was her advanced age speaking or her grief, but he didn’t disagree with her. Instead, he squeezed her twisted, arthritic fingers in his, and offered her the same kiss to the forehead that he’d bestowed on Erin. He stepped away from her and nearly ran into Rory, who had obviously been waiting.

  He wanted to touch her, to wrap her in his arms and hold her. Let his grief and hers combine, let them hold each other up. But if he touched her now, he’d never let go. Rory’s eyes were bloodshot, her face paler than usual. The dark sweep of her hair, brushed over her s
houlder, only accentuated the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She was obviously as grief-stricken as he was.

  “Harper and Connor wanted to fly back from Ireland, but Erin insisted that they not cut their honeymoon short.”

  He nodded in understanding. Erin would have plenty of support in the immediate days, but she would need her friends more than ever when the business of the funeral and settling Gavin’s will died down.

  “She asked us to sing.”

  He blinked. “She...what?”

  “She asked us to sing for Gavin. At the graveside, when they inter the body.”

  He didn’t know if he could keep his emotions in check to sing for his friend, especially if Rory was beside him.

  “It was...a request of his.”

  “A request? But...he...”

  She shook her head. “It was part of the instructions he had written up after his last deployment. He arranged the service of his funeral, should anything happen to him while he was overseas.”

  Sawyer felt grief clutch his chest. His friend had known that death was a possibility. He had lived with it, prepared for it, accepted it. It made Sawyer feel weak and cowardly in comparison.

  “What song?”

  “‘The Parting Glass,’” Rory softly replied.

  Sawyer swallowed hard. It was the most mournful but beautiful song he knew. Rory and he had only performed it a handful of times, the most important of which had been the night before he and Gavin had shipped out for army basic. The four of them—Sawyer, Rory, Gavin and Erin—had gone down to the shore for one last bonfire together. Gavin was the one who’d encouraged Sawyer to pull out his guitar and asked him and Rory to sing the song.

  Of all the thousands of times he’d sung before an audience, dozens upon dozens of songs, he couldn’t think of a single performance that would be more difficult than this one. But if his friend had asked it of him, if this was his last request, then Sawyer would do it.

  “Are you up for it?” he asked Rory, focusing on her tear-filled eyes and the lines of grief carved around her mouth. He wished he could hold her, kiss every one of those lines away.

  She squared her shoulders. “I can if you can,” she said, a spark of resolve lighting her eyes.

  There was that fire he knew so well, and he marveled at her strength. She was no quitter, his Rory.

  His Rory.

  But she wasn’t his. Not anymore.

  * * *

  THICK GRAY CLOUDS had stolen across the sky by the time they reached the graveside for Gavin’s interment. Rory thought the dismal weather was fitting. It was as if even nature mourned the loss of their friend. She held tightly onto Kitt’s hand as Erin and Lenora each took a turn laying flowers on the coffin.

  Her throat was tight with grief, and she didn’t know how she would loosen it in time to sing the song Gavin had requested. She wasn’t sure what weighed on her more—Gavin’s death or seeing Sawyer again, knowing that she’d lost him as well. She supposed that was an unfair comparison. Gavin was gone, suddenly and far too soon. Sawyer still lived, even if he’d made it clear they weren’t meant to be together. But the truth was, it all felt like too much loss. Her heart was heavy with it, her spirit weighted in the mire of grief.

  She glanced down at Kitt, who had been so quiet ever since Erin told him about his father’s death. She didn’t know how much he comprehended or if the reality of death had sunk in yet. Gavin had been gone for a lot of Kitt’s young life, and maybe this felt no different to him. But Rory sensed a somberness in the little boy that indicated he was more aware of what had happened than any of them realized. She made a mental note to check in on Kitt as much as she would on his mom in the coming weeks.

  She realized Erin had taken her seat across from the grave and was searching for Kitt. Rory led him to her and then stepped back.

  The officiating pastor took his place and spoke a few words about life and death and the hope of the hereafter. Some scriptures were read, and a prayer was offered. And then the service was turned over to her and Sawyer, for the final song.

  She looked across the casket and caught his eye. No matter what had happened between them, they would come together, one last time, to do this for their friend. She stepped across the grass, and Sawyer met her at the head of Gavin’s casket.

  He had his guitar in hand. He must have picked it up somewhere between the funeral and the trip to the cemetery. He lifted the strap over his head and tested a few chords before he began playing.

  The first few notes went straight to her soul, taking her back to the night she and Sawyer had sung this same song before he and Gavin had left for the army. She remembered her emotions that night, her gratitude and love for her friends, as well as her uncertainty for the future. She’d been young and unsure, so in love with Sawyer but worried about where this road would lead them. In all her wildest imaginings, she had never seen life leading them here, to the casket of their friend Gavin, who had loved so well and brought such laughter. She had never considered that someone with so much life and vibrancy would be the first of them all to pass on.

  Her heart was so heavy, the ache in her throat so thick, that after several introductory chords, it was Sawyer who sang the opening lyrics of the song. She closed her eyes and let the sound of his voice soothe her ravaged emotions.

  Of all the money that e’er I had

  I spent it in good company

  And all the harm I’ve ever done

  Alas, it was to none but me.

  And all I’ve done for want of wit

  To memory now I can’t recall

  So fill to me the parting glass

  Good night and joy be with you all.

  Here was where Sawyer’s voice finally failed, turning throaty and cracking on the final words. Rory drew her breath, gathered her strength, and took up his place.

  If I had money enough to spend

  And leisure to sit awhile

  There is a fair maid in this town

  That sorely has my heart beguiled.

  Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips

  I own she has my heart enthralled.

  So fill to me the parting glass

  Good night and joy be with you all.

  Rory opened her eyes and looked at Erin, but her friend’s gaze was focused on the coffin, her lips buried in Kitt’s hair as she held him on her lap. Grief rose anew, but then Sawyer’s voice joined with her on the third verse, and she found the will to keep singing.

  Oh, all the comrades that e’er I had

  They’re sorry for my going away

  And all that sweethearts that e’er I had

  They’d wish me one more day to stay.

  The guitar’s sweet chords stopped, and Rory paused as she looked at Sawyer. He had stopped playing, and tears were running down his cheeks. But both of them kept singing, joining together in a cappella harmony on the last four lines.

  But since it falls unto my lot

  That I should rise and you should not

  I’ll gently rise and softly call

  Good night and joy be with you all.

  She and Sawyer paused and then joined together, repeating the last line with finality.

  Good night and joy be with you all.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SAWYER KNOCKED ON the front door of the inn and waited. He had a plane to catch later that day, but it didn’t feel right leaving without talking to Erin, to convey his condolences in private, without any other mourners around. He stared down into the bouquet of flowers he’d brought, a mix of blooms he’d picked up from a local florist. The colors were bright and cheerful, and it occurred to him that maybe he should have chosen something more subdued.

  It was too late to go back now, as the door to the inn swung open. Kitt stood there
, his eyes wide with curiosity.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  Kitt abruptly turned and abandoned his post, but left the door wide open. Sawyer knocked again, stepped inside and called out, “Hey, can I come in?”

  Erin appeared around the corner dressed in a pair of jeans and one of Gavin’s old army T-shirts. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and her face was pale, but her eyes were only faintly red-rimmed. He took that as a good sign.

  “Hey, Sawyer,” she greeted. “Come on in. I’m sorry about Kitt. He’s been a little skittish ever since—”

  Sawyer held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” He held out his other hand with the bouquet. “These are for you.”

  She brightened at the sight. “Oh, thank you.” She moved forward to take them from him, burying her face in the petals for a moment. “These are lovely. It will be nice to have a few flowers with color around here. A lot of the ones we’ve received are kind of...dull.”

  He instantly felt better about his choice of bouquet. Erin started moving in the direction of the kitchen, and he followed.

  “Want something to drink?” she offered. “Aunt Lenora made iced tea this morning. Her special lavender-black-tea blend.”

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  He entered the kitchen and sat himself at the table, waiting while Erin put the flowers in a glass of water.

  “We’re all out of vases,” she explained.

  She grabbed two more cups from the cupboard and filled them with tea from the fridge. She picked up a paper plate piled high with cookies and covered with plastic wrap and set it on the table along with their two glasses of tea.

  “People have been bringing lots of food by,” she explained. “We have more casseroles, cakes and cookies than we can eat.”

  She sat down across from him.

  “I suppose you’re heading back to Nashville soon?” she asked.

  He reached for the tea, taking a sip of the sweet, cool liquid and enjoying the bite of black tea and the notes of lavender.

  “I am,” he confirmed as he set the tea back down. “But I wanted to stop in before I left and see if you needed anything.”