Chapter 13

DENNIS DID NOT RETURN to school on Wednesday. Neither did Amy. In fact, both were out for the remainder of the week. Dennis stayed with his mother and sister as they mourned the passing of his father. Amy was forced to stay home by her parents who were mourning the passing of their son. Jerry Unger’s throat had been slit. Suspicion had been cast on Amy, but was quickly dismissed by all except her parents. Mrs. Unger had ‘left for just a few minutes’ to get groceries while Jerry’s friend Tom was visiting. Then she’d been locked into the grocery store with everyone else when the tornado warning sounded. About the same time Agent Brisco was shooting Jerry’s and Will’s murderer, Rita Unger returned home to discover her dead son and missing daughter.

There was no one left to mourn Tom Perkins. When Carol Reston had been told of his death, she began to weep and repeat over and over, “I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Trooper Ray Lenin had to deal with his own nightmares. He’d arrived on the scene at the same time as the first rescue crews reached the Trimble school bus, overturned on Route 141. The bus had hit a downed powerline and went out of control, rolling into a ditch. None of the students on the bus were killed, but several had serious injuries, including concussions, abrasions, and broken bones. When the bus rolled, a tree limb had pierced the windshield and pinned the unconscious driver to his seat. He was still alive but in critical condition.

A nervous and unsteady track team came in last in a four-way meet at Forbes Consolidated High School on Saturday. Nine members of the girls’ team were absent. They sat behind their boyfriend as the Lutheran pastor conducted the memorial service and Randy Brown stood to give a eulogy.

“Will was my best friend in high school. Our farms were just half a mile apart. I will never forget the look of absolute joy on his face when he told me Dottie was going to marry him. We saw each other through some joyful times as we welcomed our children into the world. And we saw the tough time of that raging hailstorm that destroyed farms and crops all over the county. Sadly, we grew apart after Will moved his family to town. And I missed my friend. In his acts of self-sacrifice, protecting his family, Will brought our families close again. Even though he was mentally challenged in these past few weeks, there was a spark of our friendship that still remained.

“That was one of the things I found amazing when we sat with coffee just a week ago after sharing Sunday dinner. The drug overdose that was forced on him and crippled his mind, left him unable to remember from one moment to another, and he’d often repeat himself. But when we talked about farming, the joy he’d had when we worked together on the farm was still there. No matter what they did to him, no matter what hardships came upon him—and I won’t pretend we didn’t know he had a battle with alcohol in those later years—but no matter what happened, Will remained essentially the same good man he’d always been. He was always there when his family needed him. When he had a job, whether it was at the elevator or driving snowplows or hiring himself out for haying and corn-picking, he was never less than a hard and faithful worker.

“I still remember the first day of our senior year in high school. Will nudged me and pointed at Dottie getting on the school bus. He said, ‘Isn’t she pretty. I’m going to marry her.’ I heard him say those words again last Sunday as the love he had for her cut through the haze and confusion of his mind. I’m told his last words to her Tuesday were once again to ask her to marry him.

“Farewell, my strong and faithful friend. May we meet one day on heaven’s golden shores.”

The bus from the track meet got back to the school just about the time that the service was ending at the church and folks were getting ready to follow the hearse out to the cemetery. Some forty kids—boys and girls—lined Main Street in their track suits as the funeral procession went out to the cemetery. They fell into step behind those who walked the six blocks from the church to the cemetery. They, with his coaches and other classmates, stood behind Dennis to show their support.

In the heart of the Midwest, a funeral like this did not end at the cemetery. Aromas of hot dishes being prepared in the basement fellowship hall of the church could be detected even during the service. After the graveside ceremony, people walked back to the church, some just to pick up their car and go home, but many to go into the church with the family to eat and reminisce. Not all the track team came in, but all the basketball team and all their parents except the Ungers and the Grants. In addition, there were other church members and community people like Mr. Dietz from the Chevrolet dealership, Dr. Strait, the dentist, acting principal Andrea Morris, school superintendent Nathan Jones, the other coaches at the school, the owner of the grain elevator, two of Will’s coworkers for the county snow plows, and people Dennis only vaguely recognized as living in the area. He saw Agent Brisco and two State Police troopers. He was amazed that so many people had turned out to wish his father farewell.

Of course, Dennis noticed that many of the people were not there specifically for his father, but for his mother, sister, and him. There was always a girlfriend nearby, holding his hand or getting him another cup of coffee. They were just as attentive to their ‘sister’ Peg. The ladies of the church who prepared the meal were also near Dot, supporting her and occasionally sharing memories. He could hear the men, many of them around his father’s age, talking about their youth.

“Remember when we had that bovine flu epidemic and had to get all of them vaccinated? Will didn’t raise cattle, but he was right there in the middle of the pen with us, shuffling the cattle through and marking them when they’d been vaccinated.”

“We decided to go hunting once when we were ... oh ... fifteen, I think. We saw one squirrel and missed it with our old .410 shotguns.”

“He liked the stock on that gun better than the gun itself. I think he spent an entire day stripping it, sanding it, and giving it that fancy new finish.”

“He once helped me tear down our old corn planter and replace the coulter bearings. Pa didn’t have the heart to tell us he was buying a new planter and put it off till the next spring so we wouldn’t feel bad.”

The stories continued and in their strange way, comforted Dennis and his family as they had done many families over the generations. He found Amy sitting next to him and leaning in under his arm. She sniffled periodically and Dennis wiped her tears.

“I’m glad I can mourn with you,” she whispered. “It lets me hide my tears for my brother.”

“I’m sorry for your sake that he’s gone,” he said.

“I wanted him to die, but he was still my brother. It’s not going to make a difference in my life. My parents are still going to hate me and not believe anything I say. I just hope at least that nobody else is going to try to kill me or rape me.”

“I love you, Amy. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

“I love you, Dennis. I never really thought I would be at all interested in you when I joined the team. But you’ve changed me for the better. Not just physically, but in the way I relate to people. It’s possible that I might need to move. I talked to that Child Services person and we discussed where I should go. At least my grandmother isn’t far away. I could still visit and ... um ... date you, you know?”

“I’d miss seeing you every day.”

“Well, they won’t let me move in with you, I know that,” she laughed. She kissed him and moved aside so Brenda could sit next to him. And eventually, surrounded by friends, the mood lightened and the weight of grief seemed less as the family made their way home.

All week, the girls picked up extra duty at the Enders’ house. Their mothers helped with cooking and transportation to see that Dot was never without help. The girls cleaned and, like it had been in the days after the drug bust, someone stayed with Dennis every night. On Sunday, the Browns came over after church. Elsa cooked as Randy looked over the yard and made sure the grass had been cut and the flower beds weeded. The younger kids played with Peg and Dennis found himself sitting in the living room next to Lana.

“I’m um ... I’m here if you need to lean on me,” Lana said. “It’s okay.”

“Lana, you don’t have to force yourself to do things because you think my girlfriends do. This week has been pretty stressful and mostly we’ve just sat around and talked or played cards or something. You don’t have to do anything physical. I’m getting along pretty well now that the shock is passed. I’ll be going back to school tomorrow. It will be nice just to know I have friends around me,” Dennis said.

“Well, I’m not a real girlfriend,” Lana answered. “But I’m an honorary girlfriend. I ought to be able to do honorary things like talk. And, um ... maybe hold hands. A little. It’s not like I’m repulsed by you. I’m really not at all. Dennis, when I was struggling this winter, you came to my defense. You helped me get through. You still are. You’ve helped my jumping and my physical fitness. It’s not like I think I owe you, but friends are there for each other. You’ve been there for me and I’m here for you.”