All the Sky (36 page)

Sophie was buried in the churchyard next door, her pallbearers carrying her casket from the church directly to her grave. The men carrying the dark, gleaming box were all Horde—or, no. One was not. They all wore kuttes, but they were not all Horde. Isaac and Havoc stood at the leading edge. Len and Show at the middle. At the farther end were Badger and a man in a different kutte, a man she had heard about but had not, until the night before, met. Bart. The man who had been Havoc’s best friend. Cory learned last night that Havoc blamed Bart as much as he blamed himself for Sophie’s death. She didn’t completely understand, because he would not share many details, even drunk and weeping, but she had seen the marks between them in the past eighteen hours of a tight bond, one that was broken, but which might be repaired.

Though there would be a small reception after the burial today, last night the Horde’s Friday night party had been a somber affair, an early wake of sorts. Cory and Nolan had been there, at Havoc’s request. And into it, unannounced, had walked Bart and his wife—Riley Chase. Cory and Nolan had of course recognized her immediately. She was pregnant, too. A few months farther along than Cory, by the look of her rounded belly.

Sitting with Nolan on one of the battered leather couches, Nolan’s leg propped up on a chair Double A had brought over, Cory had been a spectator to a strange scene. A wave of silence had rolled through the room, as people noticed Bart and Riley standing near the bar. The last sounds had been the gentle
click
of suddenly abandoned pool balls hitting together. Bart had been standing in front of Riley, his posture subtly defensive.

Isaac had moved first, coming up to him, calling him “Bartholomew.”

Bart had responded, “Boss.” And they had embraced in the macho way of these men, a tight, hard hug that ended with a robust slap of Isaac’s large hand on Bart’s back.

Isaac then hugged Riley, his huge body fairly engulfing her tiny one, but no one else approached them until Havoc, who’d been leaning against the wall near the kitchen, talking to Badger and Len, came up. Bart had said something that Cory couldn’t hear. Havoc had nodded. Cory had seen Isaac pull Riley back and had time to think it odd, and then Havoc was on Bart, driving him to the floor, his fists flying.

This morning, standing at a corner of Sophie’s casket, wearing a kutte with a large, curving scorpion patch, Bart’s face was a split and swollen mess. He’d not even raised his hands to shield himself from Havoc’s attack. No one had pulled Havoc off. He’d hit until he wearied of it, and then he’d stood and held his hand out to the bleeding man at his feet.

And now, Bart was a pallbearer for Sophie. Even though Havoc hadn’t spoken to him, Cory thought that meant a healing might be underway.

Once the men had sat Sophie’s casket on the steel frame over her grave, they stepped back and took their places. Havoc and his parents were seated nearest the grave. Cory was next to Havoc; Nolan in his wheelchair at her side. Behind them stood the rest of the Horde and their old ladies and children. And Bart and Riley. Behind them, a fairly large representation of the town. But no one else—no school friend, no boyfriends, past or present. No one but town, few people even young enough to be Sophie’s contemporaries. Cory had not had a chance to know Sophie very well—a couple of lunches, the occasional chance meeting in town. She’d had no idea how isolated Sophie had been.

The wind was picking up, and the forecasted storm was threatening more emphatically, so the Reverend Mortensen picked up the pace of his remarks. Cory could feel the rush and knew by the way Havoc’s slightly shaking hand was crushing down on hers that he could feel it, too. And then the service was over, and people were walking back to the church, where there would be a quiet reception catered with casseroles from the townswomen. Havoc’s father stood and held his hand out to his wife. They walked toward the church. But Havoc didn’t move. Show put his hands on Nolan’s wheelchair and asked him if he wanted help over the uneven terrain of the churchyard.

Nolan turned to Cory. She smiled and said, “It’s okay. We’ll be in. Go ahead.” So Nolan looked up at Show and nodded.

And then Cory and Havoc were alone at Sophie’s graveside. Havoc stared until they lowered the nearly-empty box into the ground.

“Fuck.”

She didn’t respond except to tighten her hand in his. Finally, as they were dismantling the frame over the grave, Havoc stood and, much as his father had for his mother, he held his hand out to her.

The first flakes of snow fell as they crossed the grass back to the church.

It was a small church with a commensurately small gathering space in the basement, which served as town party room, movie room, meeting room, and polling place. Today, a long table was set up to hold the casseroles and the urns of coffee, and people were milling quietly about. Cory had always thought that these gatherings after a funeral were strange. But for the dark colors of people’s attire, it was indistinguishable from any other church gathering. It might as well be the monthly potluck. Even the food was the same. Hell, even the dishes the food was served in were the same—there was Evelyn Sweet’s fancy floral dish, containing her usual green bean casserole.

Havoc and Cory were standing together not far from the door when she saw his father stride purposefully across the room. He stopped when he was standing in front of his son. The men were of similar height, with recognizably familial features. His father had the weathered, rough-hewn face of a man who’d spent most of his adult life working hard in the sun. But his features were also creased in a way Havoc’s would never be—with a sort of violent disdain for the world around him. Maybe her perception was colored by her dislike, but Cory thought he had the face of a man who’d never found much of joy in the world, because he’d never bothered to look.

Staring into his father’s face, Havoc let go of Cory’s hand suddenly and pushed her sharply away. Then he said simply, “Pop.”

And his father hauled off with a huge haymaker of a punch, landing squarely on the side of Havoc’s face. The sound of it was deafening to Cory, perhaps because the room had gone suddenly quiet. The blow knocked Havoc off his feet, and then she was being pulled even farther back, and she looked quickly down to see Len’s tattooed hand on her arm.

But Don didn’t throw another punch. He spat on the floor next to his son and turned away. Cory, stunned, watched him walk to his wife, grab her hand, and leave the church without another glance anywhere but straight ahead.

Len let go of her arm, and she went back to Havoc, who was still on the floor, his arms draped over his knees and his head down. His cheek was bleeding. His still, silent tears ran into the blood.

Not sure what else to do, Cory went to her knees and laid her head on his shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Havoc had been unwelcome in his parents’ home for a couple of weeks after Sophie’s funeral. His mother had kept in touch, but his father would not have him there. Then he told his ma about the baby. She had immediately insisted that he bring Cory and Nolan for the next Sunday dinner, and she had apparently stood up to his old man and won, because, though he was silent and sullen, he did not make a fuss. They had what passed for a nice meal, and his mother had doted on Cory and Nolan.

He wondered what kind of grandfather his father would be. Havoc’s own grandfather, his mother’s father, had been a good man. For most of the time Havoc knew him, he’d been frail; the stroke that had brought his mother and father to live in Signal Bend and take over the farm had taken much of his life force. But he had been a great storyteller and a steady, calming presence in Havoc’s childhood.

He married Cory in March, without fanfare. Just went to the county courthouse and got it done, with Bonnie, Len, and Nolan their only guests. Havoc liked it that way, but Cory had surprised him when she’d brought it up. She’d said she’d already done the white-dress wedding, and that hadn’t ended up so well. This time, she just wanted to be married and get on with the life part. So they drove to the county seat—in the Beast, and not just because they had Nolan along. Cory wasn’t getting on his bike again until she’d popped their kid.

She was showing pregnant, a little, just a firm little pooch over the waistband of her jeans—or, on the day they got married, under the flare of her pale blue dress. He loved that pooch. He still couldn’t quite believe that she was making his kid. He’d taken her to her doctor’s appointments and heard the heartbeat, but it still felt surreal to him. He was still afraid of all the things he could do wrong. The damage he could do.

But he’d try to be the right kind of husband, the right kind of father. The right kind of man.

After the courthouse, they went straight back to Signal Bend, but he didn’t drive to Cory’s rented mobile home. Instead, he drove into the town proper, down Main Street, and turned right onto Dogwood Street.

At that turn, Cory asked, “Hav? Where we going?”

“Just a sec. Gotta drop something off.” He could tell she was annoyed, but she shrugged and left her hand where it was—on his hand, which was on her knee. He pulled up and parked in front of a little white house with a porch spanning the entire front. It wasn’t much, but it was solid. It had been vacant for years, the windows boarded up, but Havoc, with the help of his brothers, had spent what time he could over the past few weeks making it into something. The exterior and the small bit of overgrown yard—a little more than half an acre, front and back—still needed some work, but that would have to wait a few more weeks, until the weather settled on spring.

He knew she might balk. She usually let him have his way, except in matters relating to Nolan or those she considered major life decisions. She probably considered a house a major life decision. But he also knew he could persuade her if he needed to.

He parked and got out. Cory didn’t move, still figuring, he guessed, that he was running a quick errand for whomever lived here. So he went around the front of the Beast—a vehicle upgrade was next on his list—and opened her squeaky door. When he held his hand out to her, she gave him a look, her forehead creased.

“What are you dropping off?”

He’d meant to keep a straight face, and he was usually very good at that, but this time he failed, and he grinned. “You.”

“What?”

“I brought you home, honey.”

“What?”

From the back seat, Nolan, who was in on it all, stage-whispered, “Mom. You’re being dense.”

He opened the back door and scooted out, leaning in for his crutches. He was finally out of his wheelchair but not yet out of the cast. He was much happier on crutches, though, and had not much longer for that. He’d be sixteen in April, and his big birthday goal was to be walking like a normal person by then.

“What?” Her expression hadn’t changed at all. She just wasn’t getting it. She talked about “pregnancy brain”; maybe that was an actual thing.

Rolling his eyes, Havoc reached in and unfastened her seatbelt, then lifted her out of the car and set her on her feet at his side. “I bought this house, Cory. For you—us. We need more space for the tadpole, right? The yard and the exterior need work, but I got the inside ready. We all did. The whole club helped.”

“You bought us a house?” That crease between her brows only deepened. Still grinning, he reached out and smoothed it with his thumb.

“I bought us a house. That okay?”

“You bought us an actual house?”

He took her chin in his hand and made her turn and look up at him. “I bought us a house, Cory. All ours, free and clear. You want to take a look?”

She nodded, and then she blinked, and a tiny tear rolled out of the corner of her eye. “You bought us a house.”

At least that time it wasn’t a question. He didn’t think she was going to balk, after all. So he took her hand and led her over the broken concrete walkway—job one when the ground was soft enough to work was to get that fix and safe—and up the steps to the front doors. They were the original half-light stained glass double doors, with the original gingerbread screen doors.

The house was a little Victorian, nothing fancy at all, but with good, solid bones and nice details like the gingerbread trim around the covered porch and the doors and windows. It had blonde peg-and-plank floors that Isaac had raved about, which were now stripped of years of paint and varnish and made to gleam like new. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, and mudroom. The biggest bedroom and second bathroom were part of an addition off the back. There was a plain little concrete patio off the mudroom, and then a decades-old rose garden made up about half the yard space. A few fruit trees, a little garden shed, and a nice big detached garage made up the rest of the property.

He showed her from room to room, noticing the sound of Harleys approaching as they toured the house. She didn’t seem to notice, wandering bug-eyed through the space. She hadn’t said much that could be construed as an opinion. He hoped she liked it; Nolan had thought she would. The kitchen and bathrooms were old-fashioned, probably last remodeled in the Forties or Fifties, but the Horde had made sure the plumbing and wiring were new, and he’d put in new appliances. He liked the big porcelain fixtures and the funky-colored tiles, and the heavy wood cabinets with their wavy-glass fronts.

When he’d shown her everything and they were standing at the doorway of the garden shed, he tipped her head up and finally asked. “It okay?”

She looked up at him, still goggle-eyed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then at least gimme a thumbs up or down, honey, because I need to know whether I fucked this up.”

At last, she smiled, and turned her thumb up. “It’s beautiful. Perfect.”

Relieved, he wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her off her feet. “Excellent. Because you’re not goin’ back to the rental. Come on. I’ll show you.” Still holding her off the ground, he walked around to the front of their new house, where the club, and Bonnie, Shannon, and Lilli and the kids, were waiting. Attached to Lilli’s SUV was Isaac’s big trailer.