crowd. I saw how Troy's eyes followed Luke's hand as
it grasped mine. Troy watched us in a most peculiar
way, his eyes growing smaller, his face darkening. He
nodded gently to himself and then turned to hear the
clergyman's words.
Drake delivered a short eulogy afterward,
describing Tony as a pioneer businessman whose
imagination tapped new markets and created an
entirely new industry. I was impressed with how
experienced and knowledgeable he appeared. He
looked years and years older, and I thought Tony had
been right about him--he was executive material. The clergyman then asked everyone to sing the
hymn written on the cards we were all given. During
the hymn my eyes shifted from Tony's monument to
my parents' monument. Graveyards have a way of
making all life's struggles seem simple and meaningless, I thought. All family squabbles die and are
buried here, too: Jillian's madness, Tony's lusts and
confused passions, my grandmother Leigh's flight
from who she was, my mother's frustrated and lost
love . . . all of it was put to rest. Only those of us who
remained had to struggle still.
For a long moment Troy and I looked at each other, and I think he knew I understood why he would want to ride into the ocean that fateful day. He looked from me to Luke and back to me. As soon as the hymn ended and the clergyman said his final words,
Troy turned to us.
"Won't the two of you come to my cottage for a
&n
bsp; little something to eat and drink before you start
back?"
"I'd like that," Luke replied. I simply nodded. I
looked for Drake, but he was busy greeting business
ssociates, shaking hands and discussing actions to be