38

St. Matthew’s Cemetery was only a short bus ride away. When we got off and she saw where we were headed, she shot me a look.

I nodded. When she saw the news crews in the parking lot, she got it. She saw I meant business. “Whatever you gotta do. . . .”

We waited under a tree for about twenty minutes. People began to arrive. All kinds of people. Much more than just family and friends. The community was turning out for this one. Evans and some of the staff were there too. I didn’t care if they saw me.

We walked in with the rest. Everyone was dressed in black, except for us. As we headed up the hill, a funeral procession of black cars turned into the main gate, led by a hearse. We watched them pull up to a freshly dug grave at the top.

I saw Joe Lee emerge from his car. It was hard for me to breathe. He looked like he’d aged ten years in three days. When I turned away, Destiny put her hand on my back.

“I got you, remember?”

It was a gray and unforgiving day. The priest did all the things that he usually did every time someone died. Then the mayor got up. With him was a man leaning on a cane with a bandage on his nose. He was probably that city councilman Prince hit. There were a lot of people there that looked important. Destiny said she saw some sports stars there too.

The mayor spoke about being “appalled” by Mrs. Lee’s violent death, and of feeling “helpless” to prevent more of them. He gathered himself and continued, “But seeing everyone here today and the responses in the paper and online has given me hope. Maybe Alice Lee didn’t die in vain. Maybe her death has a deeper purpose behind it. To bring people out of their shells so they don’t accept random violence as a way of life. We are better than this. The great Gateway Arch that you see in the distance is not just a tourist attraction. It’s a doorway—a doorway to a greater future of unlimited possibilities. We cannot let the acts of a few ruin the acts of the many. We are better than that, and Alice Lee will stand as beacon of hope when all is said and done. Enough is enough.”

Many people spoke after that. Some knew Mrs. Lee well; others knew her only by her community work. The only one who didn’t speak was her husband Joe. He had to be assisted to his chair beside the grave. He had a neck brace, and bruises on his face. Maybe he couldn’t talk.

Finally, a man stood up with a card in his hand. He introduced himself as Joe’s brother. “Joe asked me to read this. He thanks you for all your support and prayers, and says that if Alice was able to talk to us today, she would forgive those who did her wrong.”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

“Joe admits that although he had the right intentions, perhaps his own pride helped spur on those who ended his beloved’s life. For that, he is sorry.” The brother cleared his throat. “But Alice would still feel the need to reach out and help all of those kids because that is what she did her whole life: help kids. Her students were everything to her. She never judged them and always gave them the benefit of the doubt because she believed there was good in all of them, no matter how troubled they were. And now, she’d ask all of you to be open to the possibility of forgiveness too. Thank you.”

I wish I could feel that about myself.

As they lowered the coffin into the ground, one by one, people rose, grabbed some dirt from the pile, and dropped it gently into her grave. I started walking.

“Where’re you going?” whispered Destiny.

I didn’t answer her. I just kept moving until I was standing in a line of about ten people, each moving slowly toward the grave. I grabbed a handful of dirt from the pile. As I moved closer, I knew that dirt would be the dirt that buried her forever.

When it was my turn, I stopped short of the edge of her grave. I’d never seen a coffin up close before. My hand began shaking; my legs weakened. Suddenly, it felt like the grave was sinking deeper into the earth, sucking me in too.

A hand grabbed my arm.

Joe.

Seeing him up close was shocking. One eye was really swollen and bloodshot. The bruises on his face and his broken jaw made him look like he was wearing a Halloween mask.

He grunted, guiding my hand over the grave. I dropped the dirt. It landed with a soft thud on her coffin.

He was unsteady, but he was staring at me intensely.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to tell him it shouldn’t have happened. I wanted to ask for his forgiveness.

But my mouth went dry.

His brother came up and took his other arm, guiding him back to his seat. “Come on, Joe, you need to sit.”

He let go of my arm and moved slowly back to his seat. But he kept staring at me as if he knew something.