Page 30 of Clashing Moon

At last, the pastor nodded and murmured a final blessing, his words soft as he commended my father’s spirit to the heavens. I stepped forward, pulling a single red rose from my coat pocket. For a second, I paused, staring down at the casket.

“Goodbye, Dad. May you rest in peace.” I laid the rose gently on the polished wood and sobbed. I cried for the way he’d lived and the way he’d gone out, choosing hate over love every time.

I wiped my damp eyes and turned away from the coffin. My gaze found Rafferty’s. I fell into those eyes of his, letting his warmth and compassion wrap around me. He reached out to me and I went to him, letting his strong arms engulf me, taking comfort from his support.

He held my hand as we walked across the snowy ground back toward the cars. We’d not bothered with a fancy farewell for my father. No motorcades or fuss for Harold Collins. I suspected he approved.

Rafferty held the door for me, and I got into his truck. He stood for a moment in the space between the door and seat, tugging at the seat belt and reaching across my legs to buckle it around my lap. “You okay?”

I nodded, peering up at him through my damp lashes. “I’m okay.”

He brushed a cold thumb over my cheekbone. “It’s almost over. And I’m here.”

“I know. I know you are.”

How was it possible that it was Rafferty Moon I wanted to comfort me?

I paused for a moment, looking up at the brilliant blue sky, and breathed the cold, crisp air into my lungs as if it were life itself. Since I was a small child, my father’s presence had been a guiding force in my life. Not for good. Instead, his influence had created self-doubt and worry, qualities as thick as tar. But I was no longer under his dark web. I no longer had to take in his lies and make them true. From now on, I could follow the light. Forge a path in time that brought light to others. And in doing, bring light to my soul.

I would be like Stella Moon. Not Harold Collins.

It was a choice, I realized. We did not have to be sentenced to repeat the sins and mistakes of our ancestors. I’d been given a new way forward. A path that would no doubt be as winding as any other, yet the difference was—I could choose my own way. His mocking, cruel judgments no longer had to live within me, coloring my choices or what I saw in the mirror.

I was Dr. Collins. Not Pudge Collins.

Wisdom teaches us to honor the dead, but not in all cases. In this particular one, I could choose to let him go without sadness. I could choose myself.

Stella and Jasperhad graciously offered to host a simple event after the graveside service. At first, I’d declined, thinking I would not be in any shape to receive condolences. In the end, however, I’d agreed. Now, as I sat near the fire in the Stella’s living room, with the Moon brothers and their wives mingling, enjoying tea sandwiches and warm beverages, I was glad I had. Regardless of how I felt about my father, this day was for me. I could take inthe love and comfort from those who cared about me. There was no reason to be alone. Not anymore.

Jasper had ushered me over to sit on their comfortable sectional arranged around the gas fireplace. Even in my current state, the room soothed my jagged emotions. The high, vaulted ceiling with exposed wooden beams and natural light streaming in through large windows were too pretty for such a sad occasion. This was a room for family celebrations, not a day like today.

Rafferty came by to check on me, refilling my teacup and reminding me to nibble on a sandwich or two before heading over to talk to his father.

Annie and Atticus came by to give their condolences, apologizing that they couldn’t stay long, as their baby boy was waiting for them at home with a sitter.

“We’re so sorry,” Atticus said. “About everything that happened. I hope you know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m starting to,” I said. “Your mother’s been helpful that way. She’s so kind.”

“We’re lucky,” Atticus said. “She’s very fond of you. I know it gives her joy to be of service to you.”

“Yes, and please let us know if you need anything. Anything at all,” Annie said, flashing her movie-star smile.

“I’m okay,” I said. “But thank you. Staying with Stella and Jasper has helped tremendously. I couldn’t stay out there alone. I’m not sure how I can go back.”

“Understandable,” Atticus said.

“Get it on the market,” Annie said. “If that’s what you want. Start fresh in your own home.”

“You’re planning on staying?” Atticus asked.

“Bluefern’s my home, even if my father’s falling-down ranch house isn’t. And I have my practice now. I wouldn’t want to leave.”

“Even though you wanted nothing more than to get out of here?” Atticus asked.

“Isn’t it ironic?” I asked. “You, me, and Rafferty, so anxious to get out of here, are now back.”

“For me, I knew I wanted to get back to my family,” Atticus said. “I was away long enough.”