Heart of Cole

by Micheal Maxwell

  Cars whizzed by unaware of the events of the last few minutes. They would go about their lives untouched by the girl who loved to write, or the lives she so hatefully took. Cole wanted to talk to Hanna one more time. He wanted her to give him that magic smile after a smart remark. He loved the little pixie of a woman that kept him on task, cheered up, and laughing on days he’d have rather not.

  Who was going to mourn Hanna’s passing? She claimed she had no family, and there was no reason to doubt her. Cole thought of the delight in her eyes, when Jake told him that he had come to take Hanna to lunch. She had found someone to love. Granted, tempered by the madness that was Lindsey, Jake was someone who was going to see Hanna through the turbulence.

  In a moment of reflection, Cole thought of going to Stanford without Hanna. What an adventure for the two of them it would have been. He was so anxious to see her blossom in the heady world of academia. His plan for an Administrative Assistant desk plaque, the dinner at which he and Kelly planned to celebrate, even the excitement of Hanna finding an apartment on her new higher salary—these weren’t the thoughts of a boss, but of a friend. He would miss her so.

  What of Jake? Cole barely knew him, yet at this moment he couldn’t help but ache for him in his grief.

  The sound of a siren’s short blast shook Cole from his thoughts. At the curb, lights rotating, sat Leonard Chin in his car.

  “Get in!” Chin shouted.

  Cole climbed in the car and with another short blast of the siren they sped into the bridge traffic.

  A half hour later Chin let Cole out in front of his house.

  Cole went to the living room and sank deep into the familiar caress of his overstuffed leather couch. He closed his eyes. What to do next? He must call Kelly.

  “Hey, big guy! What’s goin’ on?” Kelly said cheerfully.

  “I have some bad news,” Cole began. “It’s Hanna.”

  “What is it?”

  “She’s dead, Kell.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus. What? Oh Cole, how?” Kelly was crying.

  “She was killed by Lindsey. Stabbed in the back of the head with an ice pick. Lindsey, if you believe it, was the Ice pick killer.” Cole choked up and couldn’t go on.

  He could hear Kelly softly sobbing through the line and caught fragments of what must be a prayer. They sat, each holding a phone, neither moving, neither talking—just aware of the other’s presence.

  After several minutes Kelly said, “My darling, I am so sorry. I know what she meant to you.”

  Cole didn’t respond, just sat with his eyes closed.

  “Let me pray for you.”

  Again, Cole was silent.

  “Heavenly father, we come unto you with broken hearts. Our grief is beyond words and understanding. Please comfort my sweet Cole at the loss of his friend. Help us understand how such a cruel death could serve your master plan. We are so frail and death is so consuming. Soften this dreadful blow to our hearts and somehow draw us closer to you in the hour of our mourning. In Jesus name, I pray, Amen.”

  “Amen,” Cole added.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Kelly asked softly.

  “Not really, but I think I need to. Maybe it will help.”

  Cole took Kelly through the events of the morning. As he spoke the pain seemed to lessen. He stuck to the facts, almost as if he was writing a news story. Kelly only interrupted with questions twice.

  He was glad when he came to the part of the story where Lindsey jumped, that he hadn’t looked over the rail into the water. He stopped at that point and gathered his thoughts.

  “You know, as angry and hurt as I am at Hanna’s death. I can’t hate Lindsey. I mean she had no right, no excuse, no justification for killing all those people.” He paused. “Especially Hanna, but it’s kind of like a crazy, mean, dog biting people. You don’t hate the dog, you hate what it did. She was sick, deeply, mentally scarred and wounded, twisted by her circumstances and years of abuse. I feel sorry for her. I can’t find a place in my soul to hate her. Does that make sense? Even on the bridge, I didn’t want her to die.”

  “Your heart is in a good place if you can do that,” Kelly said. “It makes perfect sense. I love you, Cole Sage. I am so sorry for your loss. So very sorry. Any chance we can get together?’

  “Do you mind coming over here?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Cole turned and stretched out on the couch after Kelly’s call. He closed his eyes and drifted off. He floated in that peaceful space between waking and sleeping. His lucid thoughts were of Kelly and her place in Sausalito. He pictured the deck, and the evening lights coming on in the city across the bay.

  The sound of the phone broke his peace.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Sage?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Marc Gromyko. I’m from the coroner’s office.”

  “How can I help you?” Cole didn’t want to deal with this call.

  “It’s regarding Hanna Day, sir. Lieutenant Chin informed me that you were listed as next of kin in Ms. Day’s things they found in her apartment. Were you aware of that sir?”

  “No, but it doesn’t surprise me.” Cole smiled. The thought was a comfort.

  “The reason I’m calling sir is to find out if you will be making the arrangements for the body. It is my understanding Ms. Day is Jewish. If she was observant, that shortens our time for funeral arrangements significantly.”

  “It does indeed,” Cole replied, not sure what to say.

  “Then you will be making the arrangements, Mr. Sage?”

  “I believe I am.”

  “That’s good news. Please let me know as soon as possible which funeral home will be doing the service and I will do all I can on my end to assure a smooth transfer of your loved one. Thank you, Mr. Sage. And I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Cole said to an empty line.

  When Kelly arrived and after more condolences and some much needed cuddling on the couch, the subject turned to Hanna’s funeral.

  Who does a person call for a Jewish funeral?”

  “A Jewish Funeral Parlor, I would imagine,” Kelly replied.

  Cole went to the other room and got his laptop. A Google search gave the names of Bay Area Jewish cemeteries and funeral homes.

  Cole dialed the first on the list.

  The man who answered spoke in soft deep tones.

  “My name is Cole Sage, I am not Jewish. I am, however, listed as a dear friend’s next of kin. She was Jewish.”

  “My name is David Howitz, How may I be of assistance?”

  “I understand that it is necessary to have the burial within twenty four hours of death. Is that correct?”

  “That is our belief, but it is an impractical consideration today. We try to hold to a three-day schedule. When was her passing?” Howitz inquired.

  “Yesterday morning. It should be a very small affair. She has no family and only a few friends. I think the reasonable thing to do would be to have a graveside service only.”

  “Our people are a family Mr. Sage.” Howitz was almost condescending in his reply but Cole let it go by. “The service will need to be tomorrow then? I believe we can accommodate your request.”

  “Closed casket,” Cole said firmly.

  “That is all that is possible graveside.”

  “Good.” Cole said.

  “When will you come to select a casket?” Howitz asked.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Cole replied.

  “How about tonight before eight o’clock?” The question was more of a command.

  “If that’s what’s necessary.”

  “It is,” Howitz confirmed.

  “Then I will see you in a couple of hours.”

  “Tomorrow will be the service,” Cole said turning to Kelly. “I will pick out the coffin tonight. Will you come?”

  “Of course.”

  David Howitz was much mor
e personable face to face. He was very gracious when he realized that Cole would bear the expense of the funeral. He volunteered the community Jewish organization that provided plots at no charge in the Jewish cemetery. Cole was relieved that the process was as pleasant as it turned out to be. Howitz assured Cole that that everything would be attended to by three o’clock the next day. Cole signed the paper work, guaranteeing payment. Howitz called the coroner, assuring the timely release of Hanna’s body.

  Cole and Kelly left the funeral home in just over an hour. On the way home they stopped for Thai take-out. Cole spent the next hour calling Jake Salem, Leonard Chin and Randy Callen, to tell them of the arrangements. He started to send an email to the staff of the Chronicle, but then changed his mind when he realized he didn’t want anyone at Hanna’s funeral except “family.”

  Kelly went home around ten that evening. Cole retreated to his couch. Even though he was emotionally drained he found it difficult to relax. He found it even more difficult to get comfortable. After a few minutes, he grabbed the pillow he rested on and rolled onto the floor. Wiggling and scooting he managed to rest his back against the front of the couch. He rolled the pillow and gave a great, heavy exhalation.

  Thoughts and memories swirled round and round as Cole began to finally relax. In front of him, as clear as if she were standing there, he saw his soul mate, Ellie, at her funeral. Instead of his daughter, Erin, standing beside him, Kelly held his hand. As dreams will, time and events shifted before him. He was at Hanna’s service. Instead of the rabbi, Ellie herself stood before the casket.

  “My heart goes out to my beloved Cole,” she began. “As he stands once again before the casket of someone dear to him. I loved Cole my entire life and to see his pain again is almost more than I can bear. Kelly, I know you will hold him near and comfort his aching heart. Be strong my beloved.” The scene once again was Ellie’s funeral and she seemed to fade into a sea of yellow daisies around her casket.

  Cole slipped off into a deep sleep. Around dawn he awoke with a start and made his way to his bedroom where he collapsed across the bed.

  A sharp knock on the door and a series of rings from the bell brought Cole from the kitchen.

  “Leonard,” Cole said in genuine surprise.

  “I didn’t want to go alone. You mind?” Chin said hesitantly.

  “Of course not. Come in.”

  “Cup of coffee?”

  “I’d ask for something stronger but I know better,” Chin teased.

  “Cooking sherry?” Cole suggested.

  “Coffee’s good,” Chin replied. “Heard from Jake?”

  “Not today.”

  “I feel like such a jerk taking his gun and badge. But honestly, he was in such a dark place I could see him actually shooting that girl.”

  “Lindsey,” Cole said.

  “Lindsey,” Chan repeated.

  “I don’t imagine they have found her body.” Cole knew the answer, but needed to hear it.

  “No, and they probably never will. You know that. The tide is so strong that she was probably out beyond the Farallones by night fall.”

  “Has anyone notified the mother or grandmother?” Cole was curious how the notification would be handled.

  “Grandma is so out of it, they didn’t bother. The mother…now that was a different story. You really don’t want to hear about that today. We’ll save it for a later date.” Chin smiled and Cole knew to change the subject.

  “There you are, one coffee, black. Want to stay in here or go in the living room?”

  “This is good.” Chin took a seat. “I need to do something, and I don’t want you arguing with me. I talked to May, my better half, and she agreed.”

  “What’s that?” Cole asked.

  “Here.” Chin reached in his pocket and took out a small square of paper.

  “What’s this?” Cole could see it was a check. He looked at it for a long moment.

  “Leonard, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “It is an old Chinese custom that the village buries the dead, not the family. In old times the village men would take turns pulling the cart that carried the bodies to the place of burial. They believed during the ceremony the soul of the deceased is still present, and would show their respect by putting money on the coffin or body if they were really poor.” Chin cleared his throat. “We like to carry on traditions. You remember that when I take a bullet.” Chinned chuckled at his forced attempt to make Cole more at ease.

  “This is most generous. And if Hanna were still with us I’m sure she would give you a huge hug.”

  “A hug from a ghost is bad luck.”

  Cole smiled and put the check in his shirt pocket. “Please tell May how grateful I am.”

  There was a rat-a-tat-tat on the front door.

  “That will be Kelly.”

  The drive to the cemetery took longer than they anticipated. Traffic was heavy and there was a downed power line making matters worse. As they entered the huge cemetery there were several groups of people gathered for services.

  They circled a large area with far fewer headstones and saw a black hearse, a small green tent and a flower-draped coffin. Next to the casket stood a man in a dark suit with a beard and fedora, and across from him stood Jake and Randy Callen.

  As they approached, the Rabbi said something to Jake and he nodded. Randy turned and gave the group a wave of greeting. Jake didn’t turn around.

  “So sorry we are late Rabbi, we…”

  “Hanna is not going anywhere.” The heavy set Rabbi smiled. “Shall we begin?”

  Everyone in attendance nodded.

  “I am not going to talk about ‘tragedies like this’ because as I understand, you are a group of policeman and journalists. So you understand the evil mankind is capable of and you live with it on a daily basis. I am not going to talk about Hanna’s faith because it seems she didn’t really ascribe to any tenants of her upbringing.”

  The Rabbi stepped closer and took five carnations from the spray of flowers atop the casket. He came around the casket and handed one to Randy, Jake, Cole, Leonard, and Kelly. He moved back to his position before the casket.

  “I want to talk to you today, instead, about yourselves. We have never met so I can speak with the candor of a stranger or as a man of faith. I will not describe the tenets of Judaism, as great and marvelous as they are. So…you can relax, I don’t intend to convert you.” The Rabbi smiled broadly.

  “Today, I want to talk about your pain. In speaking with Jake and Randy before we began they told me about your friend, Hanna. It grieves me that I never met her because she was my kind of girl, bright, sassy, fun, a hard worker, full of energy, and caring. Isn’t it ironic that the thing that killed her was her willingness to share her life, home, and love with the person who would take that life?

  “This kind of death makes me angry. I feel a rage well up in me that makes me want to strike out. It is unfair, that your loved one has been stolen away from you. It is unfair that the woman who touched all your lives is never going to smile at you, joke with you, love you, again.

  “I understand your grief. I lost my son to such a wanton act of hate. For a long while, I hated everyone and everything in this world. It nearly ruined my marriage, my relationship with my daughter, my congregation. Most terrifying was my faith, or lack of it, in the Creator.

  “So you see, I have walked where you are. So, believe me when I tell you, the one that your anger hurts the most, is you. So, you ask, how does one let it go? By seeing this for what it was. Senseless. If you try to attach the reason of Man to it, you will come up short. We must—as painful and difficult as it seems—leave reason to God.

  “I know what you must be thinking: Why did God let this happen? The answer is He didn’t. It is the heart of Man turned from God that allows these things to happen. Just as you have the free will to turn to God, you have the free will to turn from Him. We all possess from birth a sense of right and wrong. It is a gift of God. How we use t
hat morality is up to us.

  “So, today as we lay this dear one to rest, let us vow to remember our love for her. Let us vow to not let our hearts turn to hate for the one who took her from us. Let us vow to turn to God’s love for healing in this time of sorrow.

  “If you will, make this sacred vow. Please place the flower, representing the love of your dear Hanna, with the others before you. That act will claim God’s vow to be with you.”

  The Rabbi gently laid the flower he held on top of the casket. Kelly was first, followed by Cole, to lay their flowers down. Randy was next, tears were streaming down his cheeks, as he placed his carnation with the others. Leonard Chin stood looking at the Rabbi. The Rabbi smiled and nodded as if to say, “I understand.” Chin bowed deeply and added his flower.

  Jake Salem stood stone straight, not moving, staring at the coffin before him. The party of mourners all looked straight ahead. The Rabbi bowed his head.

  After several minutes of silence, Kelly moved around to where Jake stood, and took his arm in hers. He didn’t respond.

  “Jake, we all loved Hanna. You just recently fell under her spell. She was very special to all of use, but you, my friend, are feeling a different kind of loss. Please Jake, know that the God the Rabbi spoke of is real. He is there through our darkest times. Do not let this terrible loss darken your heart. Take Hanna’s light and love and let it give you hope in humanity, not destroy it. Can I pray with you?”

  Jake didn’t move. Then he gently squeezed Kelly’s arm with his.

  “Heavenly Father,” she began, “Our hearts are broken, our thoughts are confused, and pull us from what You would have us dwell on. Please be with Jake, comfort him, and wrap him in Your loving arms, and take this pain from his heart. Go with him when we leave this place, and draw him to faith in You. In Jesus name we pray.”

  Jake turned and hugged Kelly, his broad shoulders quaking, as he sobbed from the depth of his being.

  After a moment, Jake kissed Kelly’s cheek. “Thank you.”