Chapter 8

“I like that little prayer you said,” Missy commented that they walked across the cemetery, heading for the car.

“The first time I came, I felt ashamed that I didn’t know how to stop talking about myself or talking about them when I was ready to leave,” Doober said. “I was standing there, kind of frozen with helplessness. I remembered church services always ended with some final words.”

“A benediction,” Missy interrupted.

“Yeah, a benediction,” Doober said with a shrug. “I added one of those. I couldn’t say one of those churchy ones because they didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth. I said one in my own words.”

“You spoke a prayer from your heart,” Missy said.

“I guess so,” Doober said. “When I finished the words, the world felt right again. I felt good about leaving the cemetery. Now, every time I come, I leave the same way, speaking my words.”

They stepped over the threshold of the cemetery gates. Doober took Missy’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She rewarded him with a small smile. He opened the door for her and closed it firmly when she was seated. He gazed back at the cemetery, taking a deep breath to center himself before walking around to the driver’s side.

Without thinking, he pushed the key into the ignition and snapped his seatbelt shut. They were quiet as he slid the truck into gear and rolled down the road, each lost in their thoughts. He pulled into Shelby’s Gas ‘n Go, declaring he wanted a cup of coffee and offering Missy one as well. Down the road, Doober pulled the truck to the side by the river, backing in towards the bank where several crooked trees marked the waterline. The day was humid. He dropped the liftgate and pulled a blanket from the locked tool chest. Sitting on the liftgate, they sipped coffee as the river rolled past.

“Thank you for coming with me to the cemetery, Missy.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Doober. I know it’s important to you.”

Doober took a sip. “I think today proved to me that going to the cemetery is not as important anymore.”

She gave him a look.

“I mean, it’s important but before today, I went because I needed to go. I needed to be there; I needed to visit. Today, I wanted to go, but I realized as we walked back that I didn’t need to go. I’ve found a measure of acceptance that the reverend was talking about.”

“Peace of mind?”

“For the longest time I couldn’t go forward, and I couldn’t go back,” Doober said. “I was stuck in place, frozen like these trees. I have this distinct memory of me sitting in the truck with my boots on the running board through that terrible night. I couldn’t move from there. Ever so slowly, inch by inch or maybe millimeter by millimeter, you and momma and several others got me moving again. With you by my side today, I feel like I’m navigating under my own power.”

Missy took a sip. “You’re a good man, Doober.”

“No, I’m a better man because of you, Missy. I told momma that you saved me, but she wanted to say that Jesus did, that Jesus brought us together.”

“Your momma is sweet. If she wants to believe that God had a hand in bringing us together, I’m not going to complain,” Missy said. “More important, I may have helped you, but you saved yourself, Doober. You could’ve wallowed in your beer and drank yourself to death. Instead, you turned your life around.”

“I suppose so,” he said with a slight grimace.