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Halifax, May 19
10:48 a.m.
Allan felt weak, shaky, not quite himself. His head throbbed; his stomach was raw. Last night seemed surreal to him, the residue of a bad dream. He still felt a crushing guilt about Brian.
He sat surrounded by a throng of mourners inside the Immaculate Conception Church in Dartmouth, listening to a gray-haired pastor talk about Cathy Ambré, of life and death, and of God.
“Our lives are not like the flame of a candle, which is snuffed out, but they belong to God, came from Him, and return to Him. Cathy is now in the presence of the Lord...”
Allan had never been a man of faith, but sitting here amidst the pleasant colors, the stained-glass windows depicting the Stations of the Cross, and the religious statuaries, he was filled with a serenity that he couldn’t explain.
Cathy’s casket was painted ivory with pink highlights. Embroidered in the head panel was a set of praying hands. A colorful spray of carnations, chrysanthemums, and ivies adorned the lower part of the casket.
With a sad expression, Allan looked at Cathy lying inside with her hands folded over her chest.
Such a tragedy. She had died never knowing how many people actually cared about her.
As the pastor wrapped up his sermon, Allan stared at the shimmering flame of the Paschal candle near the coffin.
“This morning we gather to bid farewell to you, Cathy, a beloved daughter, sister, and friend, and we bid you go in peace with the prince of peace, Jesus Christ. Walk with him until we all meet again, face to face at the breaking of the dawn of the new creation.
“This is the promise of God. Thanks be to God. Amen.”
A choir broke into hymn, and many in the church began singing along. When it finished, Philip Ambré carried himself to the pulpit. A hush came over the church as the people looked on, their faces furrowed with sympathy.
To Allan, Philip looked weary and haggard, even worse than he had two days ago. He adjusted the microphone and then cleared his throat.
“To quote Henry Van Dyke,” Philip said in a parched voice, “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”
He paused to drink a mouthful of water from a glass. “Those we love don’t go away. They walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near. Still loved, still missed, and very dear.
“There’s no greater misfortune than losing a child, and no greater sorrow.
“I haven’t slept much since Cathy’s death, as you can all probably tell. I went into her room last night, lay down on her bed, and closed my eyes. I waited. I prayed. I felt nothing but emptiness.”
Allan saw tears forming in the eyes around him. Philip’s words, he found, stirred emotions deep within him; he could feel just how devastated the man, the father was.
What a horror to lose one daughter. But two?
Allan lowered his head, feeling a hole in his heart. He wondered where Philip would find the strength to return here again to eulogize Trixy.
Philip said, “Carol and I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful daughter. Everything Cathy did made us proud. From the time she was born, she brought joy and laughter, not only into our lives, but the lives of others.
“Carol and I used to read a lot of bedtime stories to Cathy when she was little. By the time she was three she was reading small books on her own, and it was soon after that she would sit on my knee in our living room and read to us.” Philip glanced around the quiet church with a smile. “Imagine that. A three-year-old reading to you. Carol and I would look at one another and shake our heads in amazement.”
There was a light ripple of laughter from the crowd.
“But that’s how Cathy was,” Philip went on. “She wanted to learn everything she could. I rarely saw her without a book in her hands. Such a gifted child she was. One with so much promise and energy. School was a breeze for her, and she graduated with honors. When she went to university, she was studying in the field of biophysics. Then one stumble brought it all to an end.” He paused, his voice choked up, and then he stood straighter. “Daddy is so proud of you, Cathy. My little girl. You will always be in my heart.”
Once more Philip looked out at everyone, smiled, and then began to sob.
Allan shut his eyes.
As the service ended, the choir sang “In Paradisum,” and the pallbearers slowly carried the casket from the church. Philip and Cathy followed close behind, their heads bowed, their eyes grave.
It was a beautiful morning outside. The sky was an impeccable blue, yet the air brought in a slight chill from the nearby harbor.
Allan paused on the church steps, took out his cell phone and pager, and turned both of them on. Then he shaded his eyes with a hand and watched Philip and Carol get into their car behind the hearse.
Allan wouldn’t follow the cortege to the gravesite. Instead he would go home to change, say his good-byes to Buddy, and then head straight to Acresville with hopes of finding a killer.
