A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(3)

I turn and try to wave to Harlin but he’s already down the gray stone steps on the way to his motorcycle. I still remember the first time I saw him at St. Vincent’s Academy, the year before he dropped out. He was different from everyone else. He wore the same uniform, but something about the way he carried himself, he seemed so much calmer than the other guys. Peaceful. He was completely unforgettable.

“Harlin’s looking good,” Sarah says, stopping at the top step. “I like the whole rough-around-the-edges thing he’s got going on. Makes him look dangerous.”

“I like it too.”

“I bet.” She grins and adjusts the waist of her skirt, letting the hem down an inch or so. She glances at me and shrugs. “What? I’m going into a church.” Sarah reaches out to smooth down a strand of my hair. “Promise it’ll be fast?”

“Superfast.”

She exhales. “Fine. But first tell me, will I look hot tonight at the benefactors’ dinner?”

“All signs point to yes.”

“Thank you.” She grabs the handle of the cathedral door. “You know this is completely weird, right? I have no idea why I enable your morbid gifts.”

My shoulders tense. I feel exactly that way. Weird. Out of control.

“I don’t know why you do either.” I put my hand over hers and help pull open the door.

The sweet, smoky smell of incense immediately fills my nose and I close my eyes, taking it in. When I open them, I see the light filtering in from the huge stained-glass windows, casting colors on the mahogany coffin as it sits, lonely, in front of the altar. Father Peter is standing there, grasping the golden chain where the incense holder dangles, chanting and swinging the censer around the coffin where Stanley is surely resting.

I take Sarah by the elbow and move forward down the red carpeted aisle.

“This is humiliating,” she whispers. “I want to sit in the back.”

I pause, but find myself unable to turn away. I have to get closer to the altar, closer to the dead guy, Stanley Morris, and I let Sarah go.

Gaze focused on my black thrift-store Mary Janes, I step quietly toward the coffin. My mouth is dry, my skin feels hot all over—as if I’m sunburned.

A few people shift, creaking the wooden pews as I walk past, and I’m sure they’re wondering who I am, and if I knew Stanley. I didn’t. But I doubt I’m here for him—he’s a bit beyond any help I could give him.

Suddenly, three rows from the front, a familiar rush of air moves through me. It doesn’t ruffle my hair and I can’t feel it on my face, but it’s inside my body. I stop. I move to the pew on my left and look at the woman sitting there, her pregnant belly protruding. She presses her thin lips into a smile and scoots over, making room for me.

I nod thanks and sit. I look to where Stanley lies, his coffin closed. I wonder what he was like and what he would think if he could see all the people here now. It’s sweet, really—how they all remember him and have come to honor his life. It’s almost like he’s not really gone. At least not to them.

“How did you know him?” the young blond mother asks me.

I look sideways at her, feeling dreamsick, nauseated. “I didn’t, unfortunately. You?”

She glances at the casket, and then back at me. “Grandfather,” she whispers. Her sadness fills me and I miss him too, as if I am her. I miss the time we spent at his cabin in Lake Tahoe, and the time he took me fishing in a canoe on the Colorado River. I miss the spicy smell of his pipe as he rocked on the back porch of the house he’d built when I was a little girl.

I cover my face with my hands, startled and comforted by how cold my fingers are. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Are you okay?” the woman asks, touching my arm.

I turn to meet her red-rimmed green eyes. Her smooth, pale skin is graying slightly and I know why.

“When are you due?” I ask, her face getting hazy as light blots out the corners of my vision completely.

“Three weeks.”

I squint, the radiance too bright. I’m trying to act normal so I don’t scare her, but I know if I don’t say it the Need won’t go away. “Maureen,” I whisper, unable to keep the words inside anymore. “The baby’s not well. You need to see the doctor. You need to see him now.”

Her face twists in both terror and anger, but I can tell that she knows; that maybe she’s known for a while that something is wrong. She shakes her head at me, her voice rising slightly.

“What? How did you . . . who are you?” Her lips begin to tremble and I can see the familiar glazed look in her eyes. The same look they all get when the knowledge hits them.

I smile softly, the tension in my body fading, releasing me. She’ll go, right now; she’ll leave and go to the doctor. There’s something wrong with her baby. And because I was here, she’ll be okay. It makes me feel good.

“I’m sorry,” I say, bowing my head. “I didn’t mean to bother you.” My body has returned to normal and I know I can walk away. There is no tug to be in this church anymore. I’m free.

I stand up and step out into the aisle. The pew creaks again and I can feel everyone watching me, probably confused and curious.

“Stanley was a good guy,” I say quietly, motioning toward the coffin. I almost wince at my own words, but I don’t know what else to say.