Chapter 51: Decompression, Part II

20 July 2000 – Vernon Street, Medford, Massachusetts

Jeff hadn’t expected his mind to be as quiet as it was while he stood in the line at Roberts Funeral Home; he wasn’t being bombarded with images of Saturday’s events and that surprised him. He knew he wasn’t ‘better,’ but he was getting there.

It was 6:32 p.m., an hour and a half before the evening portion of Liliana Sepulveda’s calling hours would end. The rest of Saturday’s crew, the ones who’d been at her apartment that horrible day, were in line behind him while they waited. He realized he hadn’t had the ‘what ifs’ since he talked to Keiko.

Everyone from The Call met at Station Five for the ride to Malden in a Brophy Ambulance fifteen-passenger van; they’d decided they wanted to meet there and arrive as a group. Jeff expected he’d start having another reaction when Shawna turned onto the Mystic Valley Parkway.

He did, just not as bad as he was expecting. There was a lump in his throat, sure, and the familiar tightness in his chest, but not the crippling pain he’d experienced after the call. He took deep breaths on the way past the apartment building.

Jeff glanced down at the front of his uniform shirt; the sight of a tie and his Army awards struck him as odd once again. Seamus and Sean told him he should wear his awards since Medford Police and Fire allowed prior-service members to wear them with their dress uniforms. The tie, ribbons and white gloves were the closest thing to a dress uniform he had; the fact that Brophy Ambulance did not issue dress uniforms was being addressed right away by the service’s owner.

He lost sight of the lead-gray sky when he stepped through the door of the funeral home; the funeral director donated his services to Jasmine as soon as he’d seen the story on the news. Though the air conditioning kept the inside temperature comfortable, Jeff still found himself pulling at his collar while they waited. Shawna put her hand on his shoulder for a moment in support.

“You okay, Jeff?” she whispered. He glanced back and nodded; he needed to be here, both for Lily’s family and for himself.

When they saw Liliana’s casket the pain returned, lancing through him and threatening to drive him to his knees again. Somehow, the funeral home pulled off a miracle and she looked just like the pictures he’d seen of the happy little girl. There was no sign of the violence she’d endured in her last moments of life. Jeff purposely took slow, deep breaths. He slowly peeled his white gloves off, trying to focus on something to do, and because he’d been taught to remove his gloves before shaking hands.

Jasmine saw him and the uniformed personnel waiting in line when Jeff knelt at the casket. She’d been focused on the nearer mourners. Jeff didn’t see the tears fill her eyes or her hand fly up to her mouth, covering her gasp; his eyes were closed, his head bowed while he apologized to the little girl once again. Shawna placed a hand on his neck to signal it was time to rise from the kneeler. The mother and the paramedic acknowledged each other with tears in their eyes. Jasmine hugged him as hard as she could when he bent low to grieve with her. Jasmine brushed her tears away as she stepped back.

“I can’t believe you came,” she said.

“Jasmine...” Jeff swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’re so sorry. We ... we tried ... we tried so hard...”

Another tear slipped down his cheek. Jasmine nodded in understanding and her tears flowed again. She kissed him on the cheek, then he silently left. If he’d paused to offer his condolences to the rest of the family, he couldn’t remember. He stopped, shaken, in the funeral home’s side parking lot with his back to the line of people waiting to enter. Nick put an arm around his shoulders while Jeff calmed himself.

“You sure you want to go Saturday, Jeff?” Shawna asked. He straightened up, the steel of resolve returning to his spine.

“Charlie Mike,” he whispered back.

“Huh?”

“Charlie Mike - Continue Mission. Warrior ethos, Shawna: the mission is more important than you are. Tonight was only half the task assigned, Saturday is the other.”

“We’re behind you, Jeff,” Glen McDaniel said to the agreement of the rest of the group.

Two days later Jasmine Ruiz didn’t care who saw her crying.

She’d been the strong mother at Lily’s wake on Thursday; today she was saying goodbye to her first child. She knew she’d never forget Lily, but today would mark the end of remembering the bad times. Her cousin tried to comfort her through the funeral, and her presence was welcome, for it helped Jasmine hold herself together for her youngest, Ruby. The priest finished his remarks and called someone else up to the pulpit.

“Miss Ruiz, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Seamus Brophy. On behalf of the Medford Firefighters IAFF Local 1032, the Medford Police Patrolman’s Association, and the Brophy Ambulance Group, we would like to announce the creation of a scholarship at Medford High School sponsored jointly by our three entities; the scholarship will be awarded annually to the student who best displays the qualities of moral courage, integrity and selflessness in their life. This scholarship will be known as the Liliana Sepulveda Memorial Scholarship.” Jasmine burst into tears while the priest led the assembly in applause. Seamus continued when the applause faded away.

“Lily is now considered a member of all of us - the police, the firefighters, and the ambulance crews - through her bravery and her heroism. When trouble began, she moved toward it to defend her sister, not away. The world would be a better place if we had more people like your Lily, Miss Ruiz.” Seamus nodded to the back of the church.

Jasmine’s head snapped up when she heard the mournful, shrill cry of bagpipes. She turned to see six pipers slow-marching up the sanctuary’s side aisles; a color guard slow-stepped up the center trailed by six escorts in dress uniform. Five of the pipers remained silent while a single piper played the haunting refrain of Amazing Grace, the mournful drones crying, echoing under the timeless hymn.

The color guard advanced to Lily’s casket; the six uniformed honor personnel advanced to its flanks. The six were members of the three professional units Seamus had named earlier; Brophy’s team wore dress uniforms that arrived in time for today. The pallbearers turned Lily’s casket so she would leave feet-first.

“Miss Ruiz? It is time. I will escort you, if you’ll allow?” someone in a green dress uniform asked gently.

It was Jeff. Jasmine clasped Ruby’s hand while Jeff led them down the aisle behind Liliana. The five pipers rejoined the soloist after the hymn’s opening verse finished; all played while the guests filed out.

The color guard paused in the nave of the church. They replaced the pall on Lily’s casket with an American flag. The color guard stepped out with their flags first and a voice command echoed outside:

“DETAIL! AH-TEN-SHUN!” The pallbearers stepped out carrying Lily. The follow-on command came: “PRESENT! ARMS!”

The bright sun outside blinded Jasmine’s eyes for a moment, but she gasped when she could see ordered ranks of firefighters, police officers, and EMTs standing at attention on High Street behind the hearse. The pipes playing Amazing Grace faded away, and the street was wrapped in silence. Everyone in uniform saluted while Lily was brought to the long black vehicle to be carried to the cemetery less than two miles away. Jeff guided Jasmine and Ruby to the back of the hearse; he saluted while Lily was placed inside. He guided them to their limousine, then he lined up behind the hearse.

The six pallbearers flanking the black vehicle were chosen from responders to The Call; those not chosen lined up with Jeff to complete Lily’s escort to her final rest. They stood at attention while the color guards, the pipers, and other uniformed personnel moved in front of the hearse.

A voice ordered, “AT A SLOW CADENCE! FORWARD! MARCH!” Snare and bass drums marked time for the marchers. The pipes took up a slow-marching lament.

MPD Sergeant MacGilroy supervised the pallbearers, while Jeff led Jasmine and Ruby to the graveside. The pipers played as guests joined the family. The priest’s remarks were brief. The pallbearers folded the flag on Lily’s casket when he finished; one of them handed it to Sergeant MacGilroy who turned and offered it to Jeff. After receiving the sergeant’s salute, Jeff carried the flag to Jasmine where he kneeled before her.

“Miss Ruiz, please accept this flag as a reminder of your daughter’s courage. We shall always remember our sister in service.” Jasmine’s tears flowed while she took the flag from Jeff; he stood, rendered a final salute, and moved away to rejoin his group from Saturday.

Back at the church, Jeff and his group thanked the other members of their departments, and all those from the nearby cities, for helping out; they’d decided not to intrude on the family at the after-funeral reception. The bands the pipes and drums came from would receive anonymous donations in the coming days.

“Did today help like you’d hoped it would, Jeff?” Stan Williams asked him once the core group was alone.

“Some, Stan, yes. I’ve still got a ways to go in dealing with it, but I don’t feel the crushing weight all the time, at least. I’m taking a vacation with my family starting tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?”

The Knox family was en route early the next morning to Stoneham, Maine, population two hundred sixty. Keiko found a house for rent on the shores of Keewaydin Lake during the height of the tourist season; the owner told her she had a cancellation and Keiko jumped on it. She rented the house for two weeks.

His wife was awesome.

At just over three hours travel time, it wasn’t a bad ride from Lancaster. Jeff and Keiko talked quietly while the kids slept through the early morning drive; they left the house at six to try and beat any weekend traffic. A voice from the back seat alerted them that someone was awake around eight.

“Dad, are we there yet?” Ryan asked when they turned off the Maine Turnpike in Gray. Neither parent could help their laughter.

“Well, I guess that’s universal,” Jeff muttered to his wife. “We still have about an hour’s drive, Ryan,” he told his son while Keiko continued giggling. “Your Japanese is getting good, by the way.”

True to his word, Jeff pointed out the sign for Stoneham when they crossed the town line an hour later. Five minutes after that they pulled into a friendly-looking breakfast place along Maine Street; everyone was happy for the chance to stretch their legs. Most of the family used the rest rooms before taking an empty booth at the opposite end of the dining area.

“I’ll be right back, Keiko,” Jeff said once the boys were settled. “The boys are all set, but I’ll be right back. Would you order my usual if they have it?”

Jeff walked back to the men’s room and the door swung shut behind him; as it thumped closed the door to the ladies room opened. The exiting waitress finished fixing her ponytail while stepping behind the counter; she washed her hands again before retying her apron and stepping over to the Knoxes’ table.

“Hi, folks! I’m Annie and I’ll be your waitress this morning. Just the four of you?”

“Five; my husband is in the rest room, but I will order for him.” Keiko gave Annie the meal orders for her family. “Agnes DeLeval said that we would be able to pick up a key to the house we are renting from her from a woman named ‘Annie’ who works here; are you the Annie she spoke of?”

“I am, yes. You must be Keiko.” Keiko nodded. “Let me get it for you; I’ll be right back.” She returned with the small, brass object on a keychain a moment later. “Here you are.”

“And here is the check for the rental fee. I neglected to place it in an envelope before we departed our residence this morning.”

“No problem, I can grab one from the office in the back.” Annie glanced down at the names printed on the check and froze.

“Is there a problem?” Keiko asked.

“No, Mrs. Knox, I apologize. Your husband’s name caught me by surprise, that’s all. I used to have a friend named Jeff Knox, years ago.” She put the check in her apron and withdrew her order pad and pencil.

“You still have a friend named Jeff Knox, Constance Ann,” came a voice from behind her, one she remembered from long ago. “There’s no ‘used to’ about it.”

Annie dropped her pad and pencil at the sound of Jeff’s voice, a look of shock on her face while she turned. As she turned she tried to tell herself there was no possible way she heard what she heard, but saw her suspicion was true.

“It’s been a long time, Connie,” Jeff said with a gentle smile. “You look well.”

The shocked server covered her mouth as she tried to back away, eyes brimming with tears, but she backed into the Knox’s table instead. The cook saw Annie’s reaction and darted for the door to the dining room. Jeff backed up as well and held up his hands, palms out, trying to reassure the woman he meant her no harm.

“Jeff?” Annie squeaked. She received a nod in return. “Jeff!” She dove at him and grabbed him in a hug. Keiko saw a tear track down Jeff’s face while he hugged the woman back.

“You’re alive!” he whispered. “You’re alive and okay!”

The cook barged through the kitchen door holding a cleaver, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Annie hugging Jeff; her feet were dangling off the floor because Jeff had straightened up and was much taller than her. Annie wore a smile and happy tears.

“Jeffrey?” Keiko asked, confused. Jeff lowered the server back to the linoleum.

“Keiko, do you remember when we first started dating, I told you about the friend who was living with me when my truck was set on fire?”

“Yes, Jeffrey, I remember.”

“Keiko, kids, I’d like you to meet my friend Constance Ann Willis; we called her Connie back in Springfield, though from her name tag I would guess she goes by Annie now. Annie, I’d like you to meet my wife, Keiko, and our children: Alex, Ryan and Sabrina.”

“Annie?” the cook asked.

“It’s okay, Dad,” she assured the older man, wiping away her tears. “Jeff’s a good friend, the one who gave me a place to live after the apartment fire. He’s not a threat.”

“I don’t know Connie, er, Annie, I could be here to sweep you off your feet and spirit you away.”

“Holy cow, I’ve missed your bad jokes!” Annie replied, hugging him again. She released him and stepped back. “You’re renting Aggie DeLeval’s place?” Jeff nodded. “How long will you be around?”

“We’re in town for two weeks.” Annie nodded.

“Let me get Dad back into the kitchen and started on your order. I’ll be right back, okay?” She shoo’ed the older man into the back again.

“Jeffrey, when Annie comes back with our coffee you should ask when she goes off-shift. Perhaps we can drive to the house, unload our things and you can come back?”

“Keiko, I should...”

“ ... listen to your wife? Jeffrey, you have not seen your friend in over seven years. The children and I will be fine at the house until you return.”

Jeff smiled at his wife; the longer they were together, the more he was amazed by her generosity. Annie told him she’d be on until two in the afternoon when the restaurant closed; he’d be back there by then.

Jeff climbed out of his family’s Suburban carrying a brown paper bag; he made his way across the ‘Over Easy’ parking lot.

“They’re closing soon,” another gentleman commented when he passed Jeff going the other way.

“Yes, Sir, I know, thanks. I’ve got business with the owners, though.” Annie met him at the door and locked it behind him.

“Come on through to the back,” she said. She led him into the kitchen where the man she’d called “Dad” was finishing cleaning up the grill for the day. “Dad, this is Jeff Knox, an old friend from my EMT days. Jeff, my dad, Brian Dufault.”

“Mr. Dufault.”

“Call me Brian,” the older man said, extending his hand.

“Jeff.”

“Sorry about the cleaver earlier.”