Cutting Ties (Book 2) (Piper Anderson Series)

by Danielle Stewart

  They all chatted comfortably as they spent the next couple hours drinking themselves into a warm, numbing stupor. They’d spend the night here, not because they had to, not because they were hiding from some imminent danger, but because they wanted to. That was the true sign of their connection to each other. When all the reasons forcing them to stay melted away, they still chose to be together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “We missed Thanksgiving,” Betty whined. “How do you miss a holiday? This is like a crime against humanity.” She stomped her heavy high-heeled foot on her kitchen floor in protest. She had pulled on a black dress, her funeral dress. In Edenville it was expected that the whole town show up at a funeral, because, in one way or another, everyone knew everyone even if there were multiple degrees of separation. Showing support by attending funerals was part of the town’s culture. This made Betty very well prepared for the laying to rest of someone. Even though Agent Carlson hadn’t been her favorite person, even though this was just a memorial service since Carlson’s body would be sent back to New York to be buried, and in spite of the fact this was not a full Catholic funeral mass, she intended to go and show her respect. She had her hair up, and artfully secured to the side of her head was a dainty pillbox hat with a lace drape. Piper couldn’t help but smirk at Betty’s temper tantrum. She didn’t often fuss over things that didn’t go her way, but this had clearly annoyed her.

  “We were all a little preoccupied. We were driving back here, Piper was in the hospital. There will be other holidays, Ma. It’s just one Thanksgiving.” Jules, too, was wearing a classic black dress with a gray sash around her waist. She’d pulled her hair up as well and grabbed a small black clutch to carry with her. They both looked beautiful, and in similar outfits their resemblance to each other was almost spooky.

  “This family does not miss holidays,” she shouted back. “We have traditions that date back over a hundred years. The way I stuff the turkey with apples and rosemary, do you think I just came up with that one day? That is my great-grandmother’s recipe. This is truly a disaster.”

  Piper remained silent as the “catastrophe” unfolded. She felt responsible for the uprooting of their lives and the resulting missed holiday. She sat at the kitchen table attempting to look as small as she could, but Betty caught her.

  “Why aren’t you dressed yet? The boys will be back here any minute to pick us up. You can’t go in jeans and a sweatshirt.” Betty looked down at her watch and then back up at Piper.

  “I don’t have anything to wear. I’ve never been to a funeral. I don’t even really know what you do at one.” Piper’s eyes darted away. She knew how silly that sounded considering this was not the first time her life she had crossed paths with death.

  “You didn’t go to your mother’s funeral?” Jules asked in disbelief.

  “I don’t think she had one. I was in the hospital. I think she was cremated maybe. I don’t really know.” The thought had never occurred to Piper, but now she could see the sadness in living a life that left no one to mourn you when you were gone.

  “Look at me going on about a dumb old holiday. Trivial thing, really. Jules, take Piper upstairs and get her one of your funeral dresses. She’s got a big speech to deliver up there today, she needs to look the part.” Betty sat down next to Piper and stroked her hair. “You go on and get dressed. Jules and I have been to loads of funerals, we’ll show you the ropes.” She leaned over and kissed Piper’s forehead.

  Once a dress had been chosen, her hair had been pulled up into a respectable bun, and she’d selected a pair of tasteful heels, Piper felt ready. Well, physically anyway. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that she was about to stand at a podium in front of a group of mostly strangers and eulogize a woman she genuinely didn’t like. She hadn’t forgiven all of Carlson’s cruel words or selfish mistakes. She hadn’t even really come to grips with Bobby’s proposal to let sleeping dogs lie and not bring to light what Carlson had told them that day, nor expose her for the crimes she committed. Piper knew it took a lot for Bobby to even consider overlooking such an egregious mishandling of the law. It was a step forward in Bobby’s growth and understanding of using his heart rather than his head, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to snuff that out.

  “You look really nice,” Jules said, coming up behind her and fastening the necklace Piper was struggling with. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

  “I wrote something, but I’m still not really sure. I told you, I’ve never been to a funeral before. I don’t know what people are expecting me to say.”

  Jules reached over to her pink dresser and opened a small box. In it was a white folded piece of paper. She carefully opened it, and smoothed it on the desk in front of Piper. “This is what I said at my father’s funeral. Well, what I tried to say—I cried my way through most of it.”

  “Will you read it to me?” Piper asked, not wanting to just see the words but hear them from someone who’d meant them wholeheartedly. Stan was like a familiar ghost to Piper; she had never met him, but somehow, through stories and pictures, she felt connected to him. Helping to bring the men who had killed him to justice made that connection even deeper. She wasn’t there the day Stan was buried, she didn’t know any of these people back then, but she often wished she had. She’d daydream at times about what her life would have been like if she and Jules were sisters, or neighbors maybe. What if living in Edenville was all she’d ever known—what would it feel like to have spent her whole life here?

  She closed her eyes and imagined that day, that sad day when Stan was laid to rest. She wanted to hear what it was like to love your father. Her father was being buried now in some unmarked grave with no ceremony. She’d never have the chance to stand up and speak about him. She made a mental correction; she’d never have the burden of speaking about her father.

  Jules cleared her throat and gripped the paper tightly, just as she did that day eleven years ago. “Thank you all for coming today. My mother and I are eternally grateful for the support and love you’ve shown us in this very difficult time. I’d like to share with y’all a story of my father. Something I think sums him up perfectly. When I was seven years old I stole three candy bars from Cherrywood’s General Store. Don’t worry, Mr. Cherrywood already knows about this, my daddy made sure of that. I walked into my house with a face full of chocolate, and my daddy, with his keen instincts, knew immediately that I’d done something wrong. I think at first he thought I’d just gone and spoiled my dinner by filling my belly with junk, but as he started to question me, I broke. I told him how I’d taken the bars from the shelf and stuffed them in my pockets. Then I’d hidden under the slide at the playground and eaten all three in a row. He looked at me for a long time, letting me stew in my own guilt and fear. He took me by the hand and drove me down to see Mr. Cherrywood. He didn’t tell me what I should say, or what I should do. He just stood me in front of the counter I had stolen from and was silent. I cried, sobbed really.

  I was so angry with him for embarrassing me, for making me own up to what I had done. I could barely get the words out, but I fumbled my way through an apology and a promise to pay Mr. Cherrywood back for the things I had taken.

  I thought my father hated me. I thought his disappointment in me would last forever. But on the drive home, when the silence in the car was too much for me, I asked him if he was mad at me. If he still loved me. He gave me the answer that I’ll hold in my heart for the rest of my life. He said, Baby Bear, it isn’t about doing it right all the time, sometimes it’s about making it right. What you did in there today, telling the truth and owning up to your mistake, took a lot of courage. Don’t you ever ask me again if I still love you—because it’s just wasted breath. No matter what you do, no matter where you are, my answer will never change. You’ve got my love the same way the ocean has the shore. It’s always there—the tide can change, the sea can be rough, but somewhere the water always meets the sand. That never changes
. I believe that still today. In the face of all this sadness I still believe my daddy’s love is like the water touching the sand. It will always be there for me.”

  Jules’s face was wet with tears, and Piper felt the familiar panic of managing someone else’s grief. It frightened her, and Jules knew that. “I’m sorry,” she said trying to quickly dry her cheeks. “I know you aren’t a fan of all this sappy stuff.”

  Piper stood, and even though it didn’t come naturally to her, she pulled her friend in for a hug.

  “I’m sorry I never got to meet him,” she whispered, stroking Jules’s back the way Betty often did to her.

  “He would have loved you,” Jules beamed as they broke their embrace. “Well he would have thought you were odd, he would have worried about you corrupting Bobby, and he probably would have tried to convince you to come to church with us, but he would have loved you.”

  “Jules, I’m afraid.” Piper whispered, hanging her head as her own tears came.

  “Of giving the eulogy?”

  “No, I’m afraid of how I feel. I thought I’d feel differently. I thought I’d be ready to start my life—to be in love. But I don’t think I’m ready. I think Bobby assumes that now that everything is behind me I’ll be this ordinary person, and that isn’t the case. I don’t want to disappoint him; I just don’t feel right yet. I can tell he doesn’t feel the same way he did before all of this either.” She hadn’t planned this last minute confession, but the worry was suffocating her.

  “He’ll understand, Piper. He’ll wait for you.” Jules rubbed Piper’s shoulder sympathetically, aching for her friend. The problem was, Piper realized, Jules didn’t know what had happened that day in the cabin.

  “Girls,” Betty called from the bottom of the stairs, “the boys are back, we need to get going.” They locked hands and hurried down the stairs together toward the front door. “Oh my word,” Jules said, covering her heart. “I know we’re going to a funeral and this probably isn’t proper, but damn those men look good.” Piper leaned on Jules to get a better view of Michael and Bobby as they strode confidently up the driveway. She was right.

  Her eyes were fixed on Bobby, his dark hair finally cut back to the short style he normally wore. All the commotion had kept him from getting it cut on his normal every-four-weeks schedule, and he had started to look downright scruffy. His face was clean-shaven, too, and Piper loved how youthful it made him look. He was in a black suit and tie with a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The suit hugged his muscles just right and made his strong shoulders look even broader than usual. He looked gorgeous.

  She wanted to fling open the door and run down the steps to him, but something held her back. Something was always holding her back. She wanted Bobby to have a love in his life that was worthy of all he was giving, and she didn’t feel like she was that person. Not yet. He deserved more than she could give. She had something now she hadn’t had before, hope, and that was a wonderful thing—but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

  As they all met on the porch he opened his arms to her and she fell into them, a habit on both sides. Standing there nestled under his strong grip, his cologne surrounding her, she forgot about her talking points, her very well thought out argument about right and wrong. He pulled her in tight and like he always did ran his thumb over the back of her neck. With that, she knew for a moment, he’d forgotten too. For just a second, their love was easy and their opinions didn’t stand between them. She loved him, and with a simple hug she knew he still loved her. But the moment she stepped out of his arms and saw his eyes dart away from her, she knew reality was more powerful.

  They loaded into Michael’s car and drove in near silence over to the grounds where the memorial service would be held. There wouldn’t be any room for jokes today, and since that was where the majority of their conversations ended up, they all decided a little quiet time would be better.

  The field was filled with people, a sea of black dresses and oversized black hats. Most were Edenville residents who’d never met Agent Carlson before. But in Edenville, a funeral wasn’t considered much different than a block party. You went because everyone was going. For a service like today, even those who weren’t in the usual funeral circuit had joined. There was a morbid fascination with the recent events surrounding the shooting on the church steps, the arrival of a serial killer, and the final showdown that left him dead. Piper had seen at least three high school students walk by with a shirt that read “Edenville, the sleepy town that just woke up.” She wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a political statement or a pun, but either way it probably wasn’t really fitting for a funeral. And most disgraceful in her opinion were the reporters and camera crews who Betty had rightfully compared to vultures eyeing a freshly squashed possum.

  As Piper got her cue and stepped up to the podium, she was surprised by how relaxed she felt. Everything was a little less scary when the person who wanted you dead didn’t exist anymore. She took it as a small victory in a much bigger battle she’d been waging with herself.

  “First, I want to thank all of you for coming today and helping us honor Agent Lydia Carlson. I know she’d be grateful for the large crowd and all the kind faces. Lydia was a woman dedicated to her job. She worked with a ferocity and gravity that I’ve never seen before. Some people thought that made her harsh, maybe a little cold. As a matter of fact, there were times I thought that myself. But sometimes it comes down to motivation. Why does one make certain choices? It takes a lot of patience and courage, at times, to look past all the noise and see the why.

  “Agent Carlson made very difficult choices on a regular basis. The biggest of all was giving her life in an attempt to save mine. I will be forever grateful for what she sacrificed. I don’t want her death to be in vain. I want us all to find a lesson in it. And here is what I’ve come up with. When people you know or love make a choice you just can’t seem to understand, something you think you can’t forgive, I ask that you try to look past what they’ve chosen and figure out why they’ve chosen it. What drives them, what scares them, what are they trying to accomplish? And look for a way to forgive them. A very wise man, whom I’ve managed to love without ever meeting, once said, ‘It’s not always about doing it right the first time, sometimes it’s about making it right.’

  “We’re all jaded, we’ve all wounded someone else, it’s unavoidable. It’s what we do after that defines our character. Remember this from today, try to make it right.”

  The crowd seemed to take in Piper’s words as they looked to one another with nodding heads and smiling faces. As she stepped down from the podium, Piper rejoined her group. She didn’t fall into Bobby’s arms, mostly because they weren’t spread wide open for her. But, thankfully, Betty’s were. For some reason, the fear of being loved by Bobby was ever-present, whereas Betty’s maternal love was completely natural to accept. At least she had that. As Betty released her, Piper saw Bobby’s sweet smile. It was not the smile of a proud boyfriend or a seductive lover. It was the smile of someone as confused and tormented as she. All she could do was flash back the same awkwardness and hope at some point they’d make sense of it all.

  As the ceremony wound down and the crowd started to disperse, Piper saw Agent Stanley walking toward her. Perhaps a goodbye, she thought, trying to ignore the large envelope in his hand.

  “Piper,” he called, waving at her to join him as he headed to a quieter location.

  “Hello Agent Stanley,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and trying hard not to stare at the envelope she was hoping was not meant for her.

  “That was a lovely eulogy, Piper. Thank you for doing that. I despise speaking in front of crowds, and if you hadn’t agreed to it, I would have had to.” He shifted uneasily, straightening his tie awkwardly. Suddenly, it was as if the memory of why he’d just pulled Piper aside had struck him like a lightning bolt. He grabbed the envelope from beneath his arm and stammered, “I almost forgot. I have something for you. On the day Agent Carlson was
killed she had this in her possession. It has your name on the front of it. The package was entered into evidence but wasn’t deemed pertinent. Normally it takes quite a while to have something like this removed from the case file, but I expedited it. Carlson clearly intended to give it to you that day, and I didn’t want red tape to slow it down.”

  She took the envelope from his hands and held it like a hot coal. She didn’t want it. She couldn’t handle anything else to think about, to process. “Okay,” she quaked, wishing she could throw it back at him and run in the other direction.

  He extended his hand to her and she shook it, wincing slightly under his firm grip. “I wish the best for you, Piper. There aren’t very many happy endings in my line of work. You’re off to a good start here, make the most of it.”

  “Agent Stanley,” she said quietly, looking down at the envelope. “What if I don’t know how? What if I’m not built for this? I could handle my life being a mess, it’s all I’ve known. Can I handle normal?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, softening his face. “If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to call me. I can’t answer that question for you, but there are plenty of other ways I can help when you need it.” He nodded his head and turned on his heels as the others approached, exiting before any more niceties were required of him.

  “Thank you,” she called to him as he strode away.

  Betty sidled up to her, and Piper could smell her sweet perfume before she even saw her. “What was that all about?” she asked, staring down at the envelope. A glance around at the group revealed they were all doing the same, and Piper half expected the envelope to catch flame from the heat of their eyes.

  “I’m not sure. He said Carlson planned to give this to me the day she was killed. I haven’t opened it yet.”

  “Well get to it,” Jules exclaimed, clearly not understanding the weight of what it might contain. Piper had no guesses, but she assumed it wasn’t a gift card for a free latte or a massage. It would be something life altering, or in the least, it would be something more to make her question her future. She could feel that. As she tore it open she saw it only contained one sheet of paper with messy scrawled writing. That surprised her, she could have sworn the envelope had been as heavy as lead.