Three Heart Echo

Chapter Eight - Iona

My father was a police officer for twenty-five years. He'd spent his life protecting the people of Ander and they loved him for it. So when he died in a hunting accident only one year after retiring, the entire town came to his funeral.

Mom was absolutely crushed. Some people react like that when they lose a loved one; they just completely shut down. Their brain turns off to protect themselves. That's how she handled it.

So, it fell to us—my sisters and I, and the community, the force—to find the burial plot, pick a casket, and arrange the service that we knew would be attended by over a thousand people.

It was the worst time of my life, up to that point, but finally I made it to the day of the funeral. I survived hearing all these people say all these wonderful things about the man who raised me. And there I found myself standing in a line for the final viewing.

My father, resting in uniform in the casket. My mother, with a constant stream of tears down her face, her lip quivering, unable to say anything to the people trying to offer her some tiny bit of comfort. Then my oldest sister Cressida, me, and then Viola, the youngest.

All the Faye women, in a line, on display for everyone to see our pain.

Toward the end of the viewing, my emotional energy was nearly drained. Up until about halfway through I'd been able to return the hugs and handshakes and tell everyone "thank you for coming." But now I was exhausted, each of those people took a little piece of me with them and now I was just depleted.

I'd been staring at the floor, not really responding to the individuals who walked by. But suddenly Viola elbowed me, sending a sharp pain through my ribs. I glared in her direction, prepared to chew her out, but she nodded her chin down the row of people, a twinkle in her eye, and a coy smile on her lips.

"Finally, a little reason to look alive," she said quietly.

I looked generally in that direction, and it didn't take more than two seconds to know exactly what she was referring to.

Or rather who.

Just four people down, staring down at my dead father, was the most incredible man I'd ever seen.

His face was all sharp angles, from his jawline to his nose. His tight lips, and the drawn expression on his face. Thick dark blond hair was styled to absolute perfection. Gray eyes like a storm.

All accompanied by a body fit for a catalogue, dressed carefully in a well-tailored suit.

I could have stared at him for days.

Were I not at my father's funeral.

"You're the worst," I breathed to Viola, turning my attention back to the man shaking my hand without really looking at me. "Our father is dead, and you're looking for your next man toy?"

"I miss him too," Viola said, "but I'm certainly not dead. I think even he could probably bring the dead back for one last lookover."

Absolute horror ripped through me at her words. I turned to get physical, but a woman suddenly pulled me into her arms, tears rolling down her face.

She blubbered on and on about how my father was the most wonderful, selfless man, dampening my dress, while I glared death at my youngest sister.

But still, my heart rate spiked when the next man moved on and suddenly a warm, large hand was closing around mine.

"I'm so sorry about your father," a smooth voice said.

My eyes rose up to meet his—finding a storm and sunlight as if reflecting off a lake. His eyes were captivating.

"Thank you," I barely managed to breathe out.

"He was such a leader in our community," the man said, still holding my hand. "He will be greatly missed."

I nodded, completely stunned and dumbfounded. He offered me a sad little smile, and released my hand. I hadn't even realized for a moment that he'd moved on, politely conversing with Viola, who was smiling far too brightly.

Shaking my head andblinking three times fast, I refocused my attention on Lieutenant William'swife, who had just moved in to embrace me.