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Part 2
Peter watched from across the street as the funeral home delivered flowers to the small church his friend had attended. Roses, carnations and daisy’s were the main flowers, each a different color ranging from blue to red to white. The large fern leaves that made up the background fluttered in the gentle breeze.
The city around them continued with its daily routine of people driving or walking to and from work, shopping. Only a few people noticed the flags flying at half mast in front of the church or any of the work going on there.
Looking at his watch, he exhaled a long breath, wishing for the umpteenth time that this hadn’t happened. Wiping a tear from his eye,he started the car and drove to get Amy. A friend was going to keep the baby, the funeral would be to long and hard on the widow and family and friends.
Driving slowly away from the church he thought of last night. The funeral home was packed with people. And honor guard of six officers stood beside the casket, three on each side. A picture was placed on top of the closed casket, the mortician unable to make the body presentable.
Amy sat to one side near the casket, her mother beside her and her baby asleep in her arms. Red eyes looked around the room, the dark circles underlined her eyes from the lack of sleep. The family doctor had prescribed a sedative, but Amy did not want to take them, afraid of missing another moment with her family.
Peter’s mind came back to the present as the car behind him blew its horn. Looking up, he saw the light was green and proceeded through. Amy had asked him to ride with her; he had no other choice but to say yes. “I wonder how family’s live with this.”
He thought back to all the nights Paul had worked late on stakeout and how Annie would sit in the kitchen. “Oh, I’m not worried.” She would answer Peter when he saw her face taunt with emotion.
Entering his apartment later that day, Peter took off his dress uniform, placing the white gloves in the box they stayed in. His cap again went into a hatbox. The dark blue slacks and jacket were hung with care. “Please, God. Don’t let me have to bring this back out again.” He prayed, silently. The phone rang, “Hello. You got Reyes and Burnham.? I’m glad. Yeah, thanks for telling me.”
Walking to his kitchen, he pulled a beer out of his fridge then went and collapsed on the couch. He reached for his phone again, liking the fact that the murderer’s had been caught. Now, to call Amy.
“Hi, this is Peter Caine. Is Amy in? Yeah, I understand. Would you tell her that, that the got the men who killed her husband. Thanks.” Hanging up the phone, a knock on the door interrupted another drink from the bottle. “What is this, grand central?”
“Come in.” Paul walked in, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pizza in the other. “I thought you wouldn’t eat so I brought some food.”
Peter eyed him wearily; ‘He’s got something else on his mind.’
The smell of hot pizza tantalized Peter’s stomach; he hadn’t eaten all day. The sight of food at the church had made him sick. He picked up a piece, taking the bait.
Paul poured two glasses of wine, setting one in front of his son. “That was the longest funeral I’ve been to.”
“It’s the last one I want to go to.” Peter replied as the stringy cheese dangled between his mouth and the pizza.
“I know. I wish it didn’t happen, but we know that it is inevitable. We have to go on with our lives, do what we can and hope to keep others safe.”
Peter didn’t realize he had swallowed all the wine in his glass until Paul poured him more. “I was remembering today how Mom would sit in the kitchen when you were working late or the news would say an officer had been killed. She’d have a cup of coffee and sip on it. I felt the cup one time, it was cold but she never once told me or the girls that she was afraid.”
“People handle stress differently. It takes someone special to be an officer’s spouse. Your mother is special. You afraid to put your family through this?”
“I don’t know. I-I saw me in that coffin. I…saw my widow and children…sitting there as people walked by. Paul, I don’t know if I want to put anyone through that.” Again, he drained the glass of wine after taking another bite of pizza.
Paul let Peter think he had learned never to rush his foster son. “Remember son, there are no guarantee’s in life, you could be killed just by walking across the street. If and when you ever do decide to get married, make sure you both go into it with open eyes.”
Leaded eyelids began to close; Peter’s mind slowed as the alcohol did its job. “I…guess.” He yawned, dropping what was left of his slice of pizza.
Paul caught the food and put it aside then pulled Peter’s boots off. Lifting his feet onto the couch, he turned Peter around and covered him with an afghan then cleaned up the meal. Kissing Peter lightly on the forehead, he turned off the lights and left, hoping that Peter would soon come to terms with the death of a friend and the demands of being an officer on a family. “Just remember, Son. I have never regretted having children or being married to Annie. I love you.” Paul turned off the light and left, locking the door behind him.