When No One Is Watching (32 page)

Allie and Jason spent several minutes casually wandering around the room, reading the notes that accompanied the flower arrangements; then they went in search of Chuck to confirm that all of the arrangements had been completed for the funeral mass and the burial the next morning. A few minutes before five o’clock, Allie left Jason to finalize the arrangements, and returned to the visitation room, where she saw three men standing together in front of her father’s casket. Their backs were to her, and from the opposite end of the long room, she could not make out who they were. As she approached, Allie recognized them as three of Danny’s longtime pals from the post-AA-meeting dessert club: Judge Andy Murray and two other men she knew only as Paul and Wayne. The judge embraced her, unable to speak, as his eyes turned to faucets. The other two awkwardly shook her hand, muttering inarticulate but heartfelt condolences.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Allie said warmly. “You were all very special to Daddy.”

“He was special to us,” Judge Andy replied, finding his voice and wiping his eyes. “The three of us here and everybody in the program.”

His two companions nodded silently.

“The program changed his life, and you guys were a big part of it for him,” Allie replied, looking kindly at the three distraught men standing before her. “You were his closest friends.”

Andy cleared his throat, struggling to find his voice. “I can’t imagine how painful this is for you, Allie, but we want you to know that we’re all thinking of you and praying for you. We’re here for you, okay? Tonight, tomorrow … anytime.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Allie replied, giving the judge another embrace. Then she stepped back and looked at the three of them. “You know, I’ll miss him terribly, but I really believe he had a great life. He was happy. He was doing something that was important to him and making a difference for people. When I think about how his life could have turned out, I’m truly grateful for the life he had. He was blessed, and I was blessed to share that life with him. We all were.”

All three men nodded in agreement. Wayne finally found his voice. “He did make a difference. Your father saved me. I want you to know that. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d be dead, or I’d be a drunk living on the street.”

“Danny Moran was … a great guy,” said Paul, his voice shaking. “I’ve never met a better man … and like the Judge said, we’re here for you. If you need anything at all, just let us know. We’ll be here all night.”

“Thanks, guys. Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.”

The three friends walked slowly toward the back of the room, seating themselves on the folding chairs in one of the rear rows. While she’d been visiting with them, Allie noticed that a line was forming along the wall as people waited their turn to approach the casket to pay their respects. One by one, they filed by, some kneeling at the casket to say a quiet prayer, others stopping and standing respectfully. After filing past the casket, they stopped and offered their condolences to Danny Moran’s only child. It quickly became apparent to Allie that, although she was poised and in control, many of the visitors were overcome with emotion as they greeted her. They had come to offer their condolences, and yet she frequently found herself trying to comfort them. It was a role she was happy to play.

By six o’clock, the line stretched from one end of the room to the other. By seven o’clock, the line extended out the door; how far, Allie couldn’t tell. By eight o’clock, every one of the folding chairs was occupied, the crowd overflowed into the corridors, and the line continued out the door. Allie looked at the mass of people who had come to pay their respects to her father. There were neighbors and relatives, and lots of Allie’s friends. There were teaching colleagues from the university. There were lawyers and business leaders and politicians, looking well-dressed and important. They had been friends of her father’s before the accident, and now that he had been publicly exonerated, they felt compelled to make atonement and pay their respects to a man whose character, trust, and friendship had once meant a great deal to them.

Most striking to Allie were the faces she didn’t recognize. A few wore ill-fitting suits that they were obviously not accustomed to wearing, but most of them had neither jacket nor tie. Many were haggard and unkempt, and had the look of lost souls, alone and struggling to cope with challenges presented by life that must have seemed daunting and overwhelming. Almost all looked uncomfortable and embarrassed at being forced into a large social gathering, yet they were willing to face that discomfort because of their love and respect for the man lying in the casket. Many of them had difficulty looking Allie in the eye. Some offered handshakes or stiff embraces. Others kept their hands at their sides or in their pockets. But they all came determined to pay their respects, and Allie could see that it took a special kind of courage for them to do so.

Some were not able to offer much more than their presence. “Hi, my name’s Jim. I’m a friend of your dad’s. I’m really sorry.”

Others stated the obvious. “I’m Fred. I know your dad from the program. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Many offered something more, and it was a story Allie heard all evening. “Your father saved me.” “Your dad was my hero. I’d never have made it without him.” “He was my best friend. He cared about me when no one else did.” “I’d be dead if it weren’t for your father.”

One of those visitors was a large, overweight young man in his early twenties. His brown hair was long and straight, and he pushed it back from his forehead as he approached.

“Hi, Allie,” he said shyly. He offered his hand awkwardly, and Allie wrapped him in a warm embrace.

“Thanks for coming, T. J. And thanks for being there during Daddy’s final days. It meant an awful lot to him.”

“Your dad was a great friend,” T. J. said. He looked around the room. “He was a great friend to a lot of people.”

“I can’t believe how many people are here,” Allie said with a tone of grateful astonishment.

“Well, it’s the least we can do. A lot of people want to be here for your dad, since he was always there for us.”

Allie could see that T. J. wanted to say something more but was clearly struggling with his emotions. He looked toward the ceiling, blinking rapidly as he cleared his throat. “It’s okay, T. J.,” Allie said, compassion and patience in her voice, as she gave him an encouraging look.

T. J. took a deep breath and looked directly at Allie. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, but he managed to smile. “Your dad was a very special person,” he said, his voice steady now. “He could have been a big wheel again if he wanted to. He could have been wealthy and powerful and famous, but he didn’t care about any of that. He used to tell me that what matters more than any of that is living your life with real integrity, and that means always doing the right thing—even when no one is watching. And that’s what he did. He devoted his life to helping people who really needed it—people like me. The rest of the world may not have noticed, but he made a real difference, Allie, he really did.”

The funeral mass was held at St. Martin’s Church the following morning, and again, a massive crowd attended. After the funeral, a line of cars stretching nearly half a mile followed the gleaming black hearse as it wound its way through Beverly, passed Danny’s house, then moved back in the other direction toward Mount Olivet Cemetery, just beyond the southwestern outskirts of the neighborhood. Heavy clouds hung low in the gray November sky, and a gentle mist began falling as the mourners parked their cars along the blacktop road that wound through the cemetery and approached the open grave. Father Fitzsimmons said the final prayers and invited the mourners to file past the casket to say their last goodbyes. One by one, the somber group filed past the mahogany casket, some touching it, others making the sign of the cross, still others leaving a flower behind. No one spoke. The group dispersed in silence and moved toward their vehicles, picking up their pace as the gentle mist became a steady drizzle.

Allie was the last to leave. The young funeral director handed her an umbrella, and then he and Jason moved toward the car, keeping a respectful distance as they allowed her to say her final farewell privately. She stood alone before the casket, shivering as she watched the raindrops splash on the polished hardwood surface. “Good-bye, Daddy,” she said aloud, tears mixing with the rain on her face. “I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life. You’ve been the most selfless person I’ve ever known, and such a great example for all of us. You lived a great life, and I’m so proud I could share it with you. I’m going to miss you terribly, but I know that somehow you’ll always be with me. I love you.”

She leaned over and kissed the casket, then straightened up and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath and turned away from the casket. Chuck and Jason stood stoically in front of the dark limousine, side by side, hands folded in front of them, oblivious to the rain. “Hey, sillies, get out of the rain,” Allie called out to them, smiling through her tears. “You’ll catch pneumonia.”

Allie was shivering as she and Jason climbed into the backseat of the limousine. Jason put an arm around his wife, then glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the grave as Chuck slowly pulled away. The cemetery was deserted, except for a lone figure several hundred feet away, standing next to a bicycle and looking toward the grave. “Who do you suppose that is?” he asked.

Allie turned and looked. “Wait, Chuck!” she called out from the backseat, just as Chuck was about to pull into traffic on 111th Street. She squeezed her husband’s hand. “I need to go back for a minute. Wait here.”

“I can drive you back, Ms. Moran. It’s no trouble,” Chuck volunteered, but it was too late. Allie had already grabbed her purse and jumped out of the car, and was walking briskly back toward the grave.

The bicycle was lying on its side a few feet from the grave, and its rider was standing in front of the casket, his back toward Allie as she approached. One hand covered his eyes as he wept.

“Hello, Pat,” Allie said softly as she approached from behind.

Pat Jordan started at the sound of her voice. There was a look of surprise and embarrassment on his tear-soaked face as he turned and faced her.

“I’m sorry, Allie,” he said, his voice breaking. “I wanted to come to the wake last night, but I was in bad shape. I couldn’t face all the guys like that … I’m so sorry.”

Allie reached out and held him in a long embrace, gently patting his back as his body was racked with deep sobs.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without him, Allie,” Pat stammered as she held him close. “He was my rock. No matter how badly I slipped or how many times, I knew he’d always be there for me when I needed him. I still need him, Allie.”

“You were very special to him, Pat. He talked about you all the time.”

“I kept letting him down! He’d get me straightened out and then I’d blow it and fall off the wagon and go on a bender. After all these years and everything he did for me, I still haven’t gotten it together. I’ve failed him.”

Allie stood back and looked steadily at Pat. He looked terrible. The face that had once been so handsome looked worn and haggard—tortured, even. He was unshaven, his clothes were dirty, and there were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

“Look, Pat,” Allie said calmly, but firmly. “Daddy never gave up on you, so you can’t give up on yourself, okay? Promise me you won’t!”

“I’ll try, Allie, but I couldn’t do it when your dad was around, so I don’t know how I’ll manage now.”

Allie reached into her purse and pulled out a worn leather booklet. It was her father’s devotional, which she had placed in his casket. She had intended to bury it with him, but impulsively grabbed it just before the casket was closed.

“This is Daddy’s devotional, Pat. I want you to have it. He read it every night and it brought him real comfort.”

Pat looked down, obviously touched by the gesture. “Allie, I couldn’t. I know how much that meant to him. You should keep it. It belongs in the family.”

“I want you to have it, Pat. Daddy would want you to have it. Take it—please! That way, some part of him will still be with you.”

She thrust the little black book toward him, and Pat took it, slowly, with both hands, looking at it with reverence. “Thanks, Allie. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I think maybe I do, Pat,” she said with a gentle smile. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

Pat nodded, unable to speak. Allie kissed him on the cheek and walked back toward the car, leaving Pat staring at the small black book.

Thirty minutes later, the rain had stopped, and another solitary figure, a tall, well-dressed man, approached the grave. He paused momentarily when he realized he was not alone. A lone figure was sitting on a granite bench facing the grave, apparently reading from a small, rumpled book. The tall man approached the grave slowly, a look of profound sadness on his strained face. The man sitting on the bench looked up, nodded silently at the new visitor, then continued with his reading.

Blair Van Howe was surprised by the man’s reaction, or rather his lack of a reaction. He was accustomed to seeing strong reactions from people he encountered wherever he went. For most of the past ten years, the reaction had been one of awe and excitement, the reaction that the powerful and famous evoke from mere mortals. Now, the reaction was different, but equally strong. It was a reaction of contempt, disdain, and ridicule.

“Are you a friend of Danny’s?” Blair asked the wet, disheveled-looking man.

“Yeah,” the man said without looking up. “He was my best friend.”

“Mine, too,” Blair said softly. “A long time ago. At least, he was a good friend to me. I can’t say I treated him very well.”

The man on the bench nodded slowly, without looking up. “I didn’t, either. But he was always there for me. No matter how screwed up or lost I was, he’d find a way to help.”

“I wish he were here right now,” Blair said sadly, his eyes becoming watery and his voice cracking. “I’ve never needed him more … My life is a royal mess … I’m not sure I can ever hold my head high again. I guess Danny was right. In the end, we mostly get the life we deserve.”