The Siege (23 page)

“I suppose so,” Donna said, her voice lacking in conviction as she stared into the rear view mirror at the receding image of her family home.

IV

A
ngie looked stunning in her dark navy blue dress; and Dale, in his imagination could picture her attending a wedding rather than a funeral that afternoon. When she dressed up, it pained Dale to see how much she resembled Natalie.

When he looked at her face, into her eyes, he could see the depth of the pain she was feeling. She was disappointed when Lisa said she wasn’t going to go to the funeral with her, but Dale suspected Angie preferred to be alone with her sadness. It was natural for her to feel lonely, especially now that her father was “seeing Donna,” as Dale phrased it.

The afternoon was crisp and cold as they walked out to their car in the driveway. Overhead, tumbling white clouds moved slowly to the south, and the sun, at one o’clock, already slanted toward the horizon. Angie shivered and snuggled into the collar of her coat but she pulled away when her father tried to put his arm around her shoulder.

In silence, they drove out to Donna’s sister’s house. Donna was ready when they arrived, and came running out to the car before Dale reached the door. She scored an immediate point with Angie when, without pause, she climbed into the backseat.

“Did you give Winfield a call?” Dale asked before backing out of the driveway.

Donna nodded. She didn’t want to say much in front of Angie, so simply said, “He told me he’d swing by today and take a look around.”

“Good.”

No one spoke as they drove out to Rodgers’ Funeral Home, where the service would take place. They arrived early, but there were quite a few cars already lined up in the wide driveway when they drove up. A young man, shivering in a summer-weight jacket and tie, directed them to a parking spot out back. Dale found a spot right next to the long, black hearse, which was backed down a sloping ramp to the rear door.

So this is where they load and unload the bodies
, Dale thought, unable to suppress a shiver as he got out of the car and pocketed the keys. He went around the car, opened the doors for Angie and Donna, and cocked out both arms for each to hold on as they walked to the front of the funeral home.

“Quite a turnout,” Dale said to Donna.

“In a town like Dyer, everyone knows everyone,” Donna said. She saw several people she hadn’t bumped into since coming back, but now was not the time to catch up, so she nodded cursory greetings and followed Dale inside.

As soon as they entered the home, a smell hit Dale, setting his memory reeling. It wasn’t just the cloying aroma of flowers, thick as fog in the still air; it was a smell beneath that, the sting of formaldehyde. The smell reminded Dale of specimens from biology class: twisted dead frogs, floating in a thin, brownish liquid. When he closed his eyes for a moment, to drive that sickening thoughts away, he saw, more vividly, faces, human faces floating wide-eyed in huge vats of the stuff. When his imagination made one of those faces Natalie’s, his hands involuntarily tightened, and Angie and Donna looked at him, questioningly. “You okay Dad?” Angie asked.

Dale gritted his teeth and nodded his head, afraid to speak because what might come out would be a long, wailing scream. The mental image of Natalie, floating in a sea of formaldehyde, began to fade, but not before he thought that he had seen her open her eyes and raise one hand, beckoning to him!

They signed the guest register and went into the dark paneled room where, only yesterday, Dale had seen the corpse of an elderly woman. Now, among a mass of bouquets, stood a closed white casket. Dale’s knees weakened as he walked down the aisle a short way and then stepped back to allow Angie to sit first. He took the next seat, leaving Donna on the aisle. Soft strains of organ music mingled with the sounds of grief coming from the front of the room where Larry’s family was already seated. Dale immediately recognized Roberta and the woman he assumed was Mildred, Larry’s mother.

Before long, the room was full, and the minister entered and began the service. There were several eulogies from people who had known Larry, and three young girls, from Mildred’s church, Dale guessed, sang “Abide With Me.” Dale was glad he hadn’t been asked to say anything; he was sure his voice would have shattered even worse than those who did speak.

Not long into the service, though, Dale felt the uncomfortable sensation that someone was watching him. At first he figured it was his self-consciousness. He felt like an outsider here. This was Larry’s town, and these were Larry’s people. They had raised him, educated him, sent him off to college and a job. They were the ones who deserved to be here, sharing their sorrow, not him!

But as the service continued, the sensation grew stronger that someone was behind him, boring into his skull with a harsh, hostile gaze. Dale shifted in his seat and, pretending to reach into his pants pocket for his handkerchief, snuck a look around behind him. A dash of ice water ran through his veins when he saw Franklin Rodgers leaning against the wall in the farthest corner of the room. One of the candle sconces was next to his head, and a sliver of light caught his dilated left eye, making the pale blue pupil glow with vibrant intensity.

Dale flushed as he stiffly turned back around. He raised his arm and hugged Donna’s shoulders, drawing her closer to him. She glanced up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

The minister asked everyone to join in prayer for Larry’s soul, but Dale only half-heard the words. Just knowing Rodgers was standing there, staring at him rattled Dale.

It’s that evil eye!
his mind shouted, and even though he knew such things were superstitious bullshit, he couldn’t repress a shiver.

What’s the protection from the evil eye?
he wondered almost but not quite—smiling. He fought hard to pay attention to the words the minister was saying, but it felt like there was a dentist’s drill boring into the back of his skull.

It wasn’t until the service was over, and everyone stood to walk past the coffin to pay their last respects that he dared to look back at Rodgers.

Why is he watching me?
Dale wondered

The funeral director hadn’t moved. As far as Dale could tell, he hadn’t even
breathed
. The light still glinted from his left eye, and the piercing blue speared out at him. Rodgers’ lips were pulled back tightly, exposing his wide, flat teeth, and when their eyes met, he smiled at Dale, as if to say “I’m on to you.”

But why was Rodgers acting so suspiciously, Dale wondered. Was he simply angry that he had bothered him yesterday with his request to view the body? Did he think Dale knew something he wasn’t supposed to know? Was Dale close to something he wasn’t supposed to find out?

What the hell was going on?
, a voice inside Dale asked.

Dale’s legs were stiff as he followed Donna out into the aisle and then waited to let Angie lead the way up to the front. Her face was streaked with tears, and no amount of tissue was going to stop the flood. She was sniffing and blowing her nose as she walked slowly forward. Dale and Donna held hands, but he kept one hand firmly on Angie’s shoulder, ready to catch her just in case she fainted. That was about the only good thing about the closed-casket service that he could think of: at least Angie would be spared seeing Larry’s death-waxed face, resting, forever in that satin-lined box.

They made their way past the family. Dale nodded a silent expression of sympathy to Mildred and Roberta, then followed Angie and Donna past the coffin. Angie paused and said something, but her voice was too hushed and strained from crying for him to hear what.

“Goodbye, Lar,” Dale whispered as he reached out to let his fingers brush lightly over the polished wood. “I’m gonna miss yah.” He imagined he could feel a faint trembling of energy vibrating the coffin. Angie was trembling with sorrow, so Dale clasped her tightly to his side and walked on by with Donna on his other side.

As they came back down the aisle, Dale saw to his relief that Rodgers was no longer standing there, waiting to lance him with his blue eye. Of course, now that the service was over, Rodgers would have business to attend to. He needed to get the casket loaded into the hearse and drive it out to Brooklawn, where, after a few more words from the minister, Larry would be lowered into the ground, never to be seen again.

The sunlight stung Dale’s eyes as they went outside to get into the car and join the procession to the cemetery. He started up the car and came around to the front of the funeral home, then put the car into
park
while he waited. He drove mechanically, though, his mind blank and his heart feeling… hollow. He couldn’t stop wondering how much of the numbness he felt was from Larry’s death and how much was from Rodgers’ cold stare.

“I just can’t—can’t get used to the idea that I’ll… I’ll never
see
him again,” Angie wailed. She turned and crumbled forward, burying her face into her father’s chest.

“There, there,” he cooed. “Just cry it out. It’s the only way you’ll feel better.” He patted her on the back and drew her close, surprised by how small and frail she seemed. For so long, now, he had been thinking of her as a big girl, but this had reduced her to a little girl again. He could picture her at four years of age, trying to understand why her mother wasn’t coming home anymore.

Natalie!
Dale’s mind echoed, the name receding into a whisper that blended with Angie’s deep sobs. His own eyes were stinging, but he held back his tears, making himself strong for Angie’s sake.

Donna leaned forward over the back seat and whispered softly, “If you think it’d be better for you two to be alone, I can walk home from here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“It isn’t very far,” Donna said. She stroked Angie’s hair and smiled sympathetically. “And actually, I think I wouldn’t mind having a little time by myself.”

Dale knew Donna had never considered Larry a close friend. They had grown up together in a small town, had been junior high school sweethearts for all of a week—and they couldn’t help but bump into each other now and again; but Donna had run with a different crowd. She had forgotten Larry just as she had tried to forget everyone and everything else in Dyer. He appreciated her offer, though, and smiled his thanks.

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride?” he asked.

Donna shook her head, firmly
no
.

“I’ll give you a call later this afternoon, then,” he said, as Donna opened the back door and got out of the car.

“Sure,” she said. Shutting the door gently, she started down the walkway toward the street.

The funeral procession took a few minutes to get organized. Dale kept hugging Angie close to him, trying to comfort her, but all the while his mind was filled with just one image: that of Franklin Rodgers’ dilated blue eye, staring unblinkingly at him; and one thought kept springing into his mind:
What is it that Rodgers doesn’t want me to know?

It was as simple as that! Slightly paranoid, perhaps, but simple!

As they drove out to Brooklawn Cemetery, where the deep, rectangular hole waited to receive Larry’s coffin, Dale became even more convinced that, with
or without Winfield’s help, he was going to check deeper into Larry’s death; and he knew the first thing to do, right after he dropped Angie off at Mrs. Appleby’s, was to drive out to the accident site and have a look around.

V

T
he burial took less than fifteen minutes, and for that, Dale was grateful. Between the loss he and Angie were feeling, and the disturbing sensation that Rodgers was watching him, Dale wanted nothing more than to be done with the funeral. But he had also wanted to say a few words to Larry’s mother, so after the minister had said another prayer and sprinkled a handful of dirt over the coffin, Dale lingered while the immediate family gathered, heads bowed, around the freshly-dug grave.

The afternoon sky grew pale—
as pale as Rodgers’ left eye
, Dale thought with a shiver as a strong wind from the west sent autumn leaves flying. Some leaves blew into the open grave and gathered, like brown snowdrifts, in the lee of the mound of flowers surrounding Larry’s casket.

Dale kept looking back over his shoulder, positive that Rodgers, sitting in the hearse unseen behind the glare on the windshield, was watching and waiting for the family to depart before supervising the final covering of the grave. The back of Dale’s neck prickled when he imagined that cold, blue eye, boring into him from behind.

What’s the magical protection against the evil eye?
he wondered more than half-seriously.

Mildred Cole suddenly collapsed and would have fallen to the ground if her sister hadn’t caught her. Dale heard her as she wailed, “My baby!
My baby!
”

The minister came over to her and, gently but firmly guided her to one of the waiting cars. They passed close to Dale, but Mildred seemed not even to notice him. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she had the vague, unfocused stare of someone who is heavily medicated.

“Mrs. Cole?” Dale said, his voice catching in his throat.

She paused, looked at him for a second, and then continued her stiff-legged walk toward the waiting car. Dale took a shuddering breath, cast one last look at Larry Cole’s casket, and then, realizing words were futile went down to where Angie waited for him in the car.