Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

50. Farron

FIFTY

FARRON

FAMILY MATTERS

Day 444

When I awake again, the morning sun is flooding my room with its golden rays, illuminating the space and warming my bed. I squint against the brightness, feeling hot and sticky. Despite the growing heat, I don’t want to change out of Kenji’s hoodie. I want to cling to it like a lifeline, to cling to the small sense of safety it brought me the night before.

It takes me a long time, probably far longer than it should, to get up and get moving. I make my way to the bathroom to go through my morning routine. As I wrestle with my tangled hair and scrub my teeth, I find that even these small, mundane tasks feel like a monumental challenge. Last night’s events feel suffocating in my mind. But I have to push through. I have to face Jay.

When I finally arrive at Jay's doorstep, my heart feels lodged in my throat. I hesitate before raising my hand to knock, my knuckles rapping against the wood with an unsteady rhythm. It's a foreign gesture, but it feels like it’s only right to announce my presence, to give him a moment's warning before I intrude on his grief. Grief that I’ve caused.

The door creaks open, and the sight of him breaks my heart all over again. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from tears. It’s clear he hasn’t slept, his exhaustion etched into every line of his face. Todd stands behind him, his expression mirroring Jay’s anguish. I’m frozen, rooted to the spot as I struggle to find the right word, unsure how to begin.

Before I can utter a word, Jay pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me like a lifeline. We cling to each other as we both begin to sob, the tears flowing freely as we surrender to the overwhelming tide of grief.

“I'm so sorry,” I manage to blurt out between sobs, my voice choked with emotion. “I'm so sorry, Jay. Please forgive me. Please, I'm so sorry.” The words spill from my lips in a desperate plea for absolution, basking in the solace of regret.

Jay softly shushes me, wiping the tears from my face. “It's not your fault, Ronnie,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. The use of Holden's nickname sends a pang through my heart, a sign of his affection for me, proof that he doesn’t hate me despite our circumstances. “You did what you had to do to protect us all. You did the right thing, probably by my grandfather's choice.”

He pulls me to the couch and sits me down next to him, Todd on his other side. I recount the final moments with Mr. Abel, his words lying heavily in my heart. I tell Jay what he said, my voice cracking.

“He said he loved you more than anything,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “That you were the most incredible man he's ever known. And he told me to tell you to stay strong and to get your head out of your ass when it comes to love, whatever that's supposed to mean.”

A watery laugh escapes Jay's lips, tinged with sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like Gramps, alright,” he murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief. “He's...in his room right now, wrapped up in the same blanket that Kenji and the others brought him in last night.”

Jay hangs his head, his shoulders weighed down by the burden of loss. I offer a silent show of support, squeezing his hand gently as Todd runs his fingers through Jay's short hair in a soothing gesture. Together, we sink into the couch's cushions, finding solace in each other's presence. We sit silently for a long while, long enough for the sun to make its way high into the sky and for the morning to pass us by.

“I think I'd like to bury him today, out back,” Jay's voice breaks the heavy silence that envelops us. “I want Nora and Henry there, of course, but that's it—just something small to say goodbye. I don't want to make it a big thing for the community. I don't think I could even handle that right now.”

His words hang in the air, laden with raw emotion and vulnerability. I nod in understanding, sensing our combined grief as it presses down on us all. When he finally indicates he's ready, I tenderly kiss his cheek before hurrying to fetch my grandparents.

They fall into my arms when they see me, their grief and sorrow still fresh, just as strong.

Within the hour, the five of us stand solemnly beneath the sprawling branches of the oak tree behind the Abel home, a makeshift grave dug into the earth before us. I watch as Todd and Jay lower Mr. Abel's body into the ground, our collective breaths held in a silent tribute.

As my grandparents step forward to pay their respects, I listen to my grandfather's tearful reminiscences, his words filled with decades of cherished memories. Ma's hand rests gently on his arm, offering silent support as he places an entire bottle of whiskey beside Mr. Abel's resting place, a final toast to their enduring friendship. “Save me a drink in the afterlife, my friend. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon.”

When it's my turn, I step forward hesitantly, my heart heavy. "I'll never forgive myself for what I had to do last night," I begin, my voice trembling with emotion. "But I forgive you, John. I forgive you for making me be the person who had to do it."

Tears blur my vision as I recount the moments that shaped me, the memories of Mr. Abel's kindness and guidance etched into my heart forever. With trembling hands, I place a small bouquet of wildflowers atop the blanket that shrouds him, a fragile offering of beauty and life amidst the stark reality of death.

Todd steps forward next. He doesn’t have any offerings in his hands, but his words are more than enough.

“About three years ago, John found me at a low point in my life,” Todd begins, his voice steady, a contrast to the tears that have stained his cheeks. “I was about to do something stupid. He told me to wait there before he left, only to return a few minutes later with a bottle of his favorite whiskey and two cigars. He sat beside me outside in the middle of the night, the crickets chirping and the summer heat nipping at our necks. We stayed silent for a while, and then he spoke. Somehow, he already knew everything I could have said. He knew what I was feeling, what I was going through, and what moment caused me to get to this point.

“And he told me I was going to be okay. That, sometimes, it’s not a straight path to get to where you need to go, but one with a lot of twists and turns, and even loops, like a roller coaster. He told me he knew I would get to where I needed to be; I just had to stay on the path and stick through it. I don’t think I really believed him when he said that. I did know that this man, who’d known me my whole life, also knew exactly what was weighing on me, and he accepted me for all my parts. Without him, I wouldn’t be here today. Thank you for the man you were, John.”

As he ends his speech, I catch Jay’s eyes on Todd, his brows furrowed and his mouth open in shock, like this story was new to him, too. Todd steps back, avoiding Jay’s eyes.

Finally, it’s Jay’s turn to speak. He steps forward, a toy car in his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously. “Gramps bought me this toy when I was in high school, at an age when I didn’t have any need for or interest in children’s toys. When he gave it to me, he said that sometimes, the things you want are not what you need. That sometimes, there’s more to life than the hand you think you’ve been dealt, and you have to find joy in the small things, the things that can be easy to toss away and forget. I’m still not sure I understand the point of the toy,” Jay says, his laughter circling us, bittersweet.

“Thank you, Gramps, for everything you did for me,” Jay whispers, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur. “I promise that I'll do my best to one day bring Mom here and bury her next to you.”

He drops to his knees, placing the toy car inside next to Mr. Abel, and cries. We stay silent, giving him time to mourn and release everything inside.

As his tears finally subside and he stands up, we move forward as one, gently lowering dirt onto the grave. With each shovel-full, we release just a little bit of our grief and pain, focusing instead on the love we have for Mr. Jonathan William Abel.