Chapter 14: Burying the past, coping with the present

Jean had not known that Hardy was a religious man, but he and Alex found themselves sitting on the front row at the chapel, with four other men. All were dressed in black suits. As the service ended, the Speaker motioned them to rise and move into position.

Hardy had no family on Nerites, so his closest known friends, including the Trebiens and the Pasteurs, occupied the family pews. Josephine, Beth, and the Trebien girls had the pew right behind the pallbearers.

Standing where he was, Jean could see the faces of both wives, even through their veils. Both were shedding tears in a near steady stream. It was almost more than he could bear to watch, without breaking into tears himself, so he looked at the men he stood with, instead.

Alex didn’t appear to be in much better shape than the women, but he was hanging in there. Jean didn’t know any of the other pallbearers. He looked at each man in turn, seeing mixed emotions on each face.

Six men who knew Hardy, here to carry his body to its final rest. Six wives, most likely, shedding tears out in the pews. Alex and I, at least, share something because of Hardy’s interest in our women. I wonder if these other men share it as well...

Each man took hold of a handle on the casket, and they lifted it clear of the pedestal. They carried it out to the waiting funeral coach, an anachronism found only on underdeveloped worlds like Nerites. It was a sign of the funeral director’s wealth that the wagon was drawn by one of the few horses on the planet, rather than a tractor.

With so little dry land on the planet, it was not practical to have cemeteries of the kind one might find on Old Earth. Instead, bodies of the deceased were encapsulated and stored in mausoleums, with or without cremation. Alternatively, the PDA had approved the scattering of cremated ashes over one of the deep-water zones of the planetary ocean.

There were, of course, the holdouts, those traditionalists who would rather bury their dead in the muck of the low-lying islands than have them cremated or stored in a drawer. That means of burial was not sanctioned, however.

Hardy’s body would be cremated and the ashes stored in the mausoleum at Poliniriton.

The funeral procession followed the wagon on foot, covering the short distance between the chapel and the crematorium, where the wagon stopped, in just a few minutes.

The crematorium itself was an outdoor chapel. There was a broad, flat wall, some ten meters long and three meters high, painted white. Exactly centered in the wall was a large cast-metal door, which was open, and a loading platform extended outward from it.

A straight, paved path led from the platform to the rear of the wagon. On either side of the path were a number of rows of seats, six to a row. On the left side, between the front row of seats and the wall, was a podium.

Excepting the pallbearers, those attending the funeral had quickly filed into the seats. Josephine and the Trebien ladies sat in the front row, left side.

In silence, Alex and Jean took the lead, and lifted the casket, drawing it out of the wagon. As each pair of handles became accessible, another pair of pallbearers grasped them, and aided in the carrying. The six carried the casket down the path, gently set it on the platform, and then lined up to the right of the furnace door.

As the Speaker concluded the formal service, Jean watched Beth, who was visibly agitated. She was also obviously pregnant now, and had had difficulty fitting into the clothes she’d selected for the funeral.

She’s more beautiful than ever, though...

The Speaker asked those attending to stand. He toggled a switch at the podium, which caused the platform to withdraw into the furnace. When it had fully withdrawn, he signaled Alex to secure the furnace door. The furnace would not be fired until everyone had departed.

As the door swung closed, and Alex threw the bar, Beth collapsed. Jean rushed to her aid, but was too far away to reach her in time. Instead, Josephine caught her, and eased her into a seat as Jean moved in to help support her.

The Speaker’s closing words rang in his mind:

“Thus ends the story of Harding James Saxon, at least, in this world. I would remind you that an ancient prophet once said, ‘There is none, not one, who is without sin.’ If you have a God ... if you believe that men have souls ... if you believe in an afterlife ... I beg you all, pray to Him or Her, asking safe passage for this man’s soul.”

Two weeks following Hardy’s funeral, Beth woke from a sound sleep and sat bolt upright. Her moves were violent enough to disturb Jean, who had been sleeping peacefully.

“Oh my GOD!” she cried.

“What?” he exclaimed in alarm.

“It’s too late!” she wailed.

“Too late for what?”

“I’m a week into my second trimester!” she cried, “I’m past the point where I can get an abortion that isn’t required by medical necessity. I’ve got to have this baby now...” At which point she began bawling.

Jean’s heart sank, but he knew he had a role to play, so with mixed emotions, he moved to comfort his wife.

“It’s all right, babe,” he said gently, “we’ll get by.”

“It’s not all right,” she shouted, “and it’ll never be all right again!”

Jean could not admit to her that he knew why she was so upset over the pregnancy, but he knew they would both have to cope with it somehow. He rose and walked around the bed to her side. He took both her hands in his and began to talk.

“Baby, I don’t know why this is such a problem for you,” he lied, “but we have to face reality. Reality is that this baby is on its way. Reality is that we need to get you in prenatal care. Reality is that we should have already had you in it.”

He paused for a moment, then continued on. “Reality is that this is your baby, and it will need your love and care for a long time to come. I’ll be giving it mine, too.”