Even half an hour after it ended, Jane couldn't have recalled a word spoken at Tommy's memorial service.
It had been headed by Father Scott, the priest who Tommy had once hit with a carriage. The irony of it had struck Jane as amusing at first, but the smile passed quickly. Korsak said a few words, and Frankie offered a very moving eulogy. At least, Jane had to assume it was moving; Angela sobbed her way through the entire service, at times keeping Jane from being able to hear well. Frost's wife Anna played the piano during the hymn that closed the funeral, which had been attended by two dozen people or so.
Jane, who had stood with everyone else during the hymn (but hadn't sung), remained still as the crowd began to depart. Maura had to whisper her name three times before Jane realized she was being addressed. Jane turned her head to look at her, and Maura nodded in Frankie's direction. He and Angela were both standing by Tommy's casket, where people were paying their last respects and giving Frankie and Angela their sympathies.
"Okay," Jane muttered. Giving Collin's hand a squeeze, she then released it and walked towards her family. Collin went to follow her, but Maura gently took his shoulder to keep him back, holding Lily with her other arm.
Maura had been the one to tell Collin about the tragedy, and tell him why Jane wasn't there to retrieve him from Angela's. She had gone to grieve in solitude. Seeing his distress at Jane's sadness, Maura had asked,
"Do you want to help Jane?"
"Of course!"
"Then all you have to do is very simple. When they have a service for Tommy, I want you to hold Jane's hand, and don't let go until it's over. Don't be scared if she cries. You just keep holding her hand."
Collin had treated his task as seriously as a soldier would adhere to a superior officer's command, and Jane had more than appreciated the gesture.
"Is Jane gonna be all right?" Collin asked.
"In time, she will," Maura sighed. "You and I both know the pain of loss, Collin. Things ...the world never quite returns to 'normal' after someone we love passes on. Some people struggle with that fact, and it is easy to understand why. However." She took a deep breath, still feeling the loss of her father—the man who had raised her. "If we allow things like grief to process properly, and give them their due time and attention, that lets us move forward. We progress into a new 'normal,' if you will."
Collin shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Well, take me for an example," Maura said, sitting back down so she was at face-level with Collin. "My father, my... not Doyle, but... my father. When he passed away, I was consumed with grief. I hardly knew what I might do without him. In time, I came out West. I began the next chapter in my life. What passed as 'normal' in Boston didn't pass as 'normal' in Arizona. I adjusted. I adjusted to this new life, which did not contain my father's presence. But you know what it did contain?"
"What?" Collin breathed.
Maura leaned forward and smilingly whispered, "Calamity Jane Rizzoli."
"Oh!"
"Yes. I still think of my father, Collin. Not as often as I did when the loss was fresh, but I do think of him. And I sorely miss him. But I came around to the fact that my life never could be exactly as it was without him, and I fashioned a new path for myself. There are people along the way who have made it first bearable, and then incredible."
"Like Jane?"
"Especially Jane."
"Oh... oh."
She could see him still trying to work his way around it, and wished she knew how to express it better. How to explain to him that he was already so much happier now than he had been upon first coming to them, with both parents recently dead.
"I expect you'll be faced with another loss soon," Maura said, and Collin's eyes widened with alarm. "Not death, Collin, not that. But Kay is expecting to return to Boston any week now, and she will no longer be a regular presence in your life."
"Right," he said glumly.
"But Jane and I will be here," Maura told him, tilting his chin so he would look her in the eye. "Jane and Lily and I will always be here for you."
"Swear it?"
"I swear it, Collin."
Standing by the door of the church, Jane couldn't help glancing at Maura and Collin every few moments. She wished she could be privy to this conversation, which looked very serious and important. She could probably be of more use there than she was here, emptily accepting people's condolences. It had been three days since Tommy's death, and still—though she had been there for his last breath—she could not accept that it had happened.
The last of the congregated people to approach them was Adelaide.
"Oh, Addie," Angela croaked, throwing her arms around the old woman. "Tommy really thought you were aces, y'know."
"He was a sweet boy," Adelaide returned.
"He was," Angela agreed, nodding as Adelaide rubbed her back. "He shouldn't have gone this young, he shouldn't have... still had..."
"It's a terrible thing, and it doesn't make any sense," Adelaide said. "Families all grieve in different ways, so I can't hope to say with any certainty that I can capably help you each through this. But know that I will strive to do my best, and that I shall be mourning right alongside you."
She was almost unrecognizable without her acerbic tone, with tears in her eyes instead of a laugh. Jane still felt numb as Adelaide pulled her aside. "I understand that children can be a welcome distraction from our grief," she said, "but I also know, Jane, that our emotions are amplified in situations like these. Stress becomes greater, and our ability to endure it is weakened by our sadness. If you feel it would help, I would like to open my doors to your and Maura's charges for the next few days."
For the first time that day, Jane let out a loud sob and embraced somebody.
Angela and Frankie assumed it was something Adelaide had said about Tommy, but that wasn't entirely the reason. Jane would have been moved enough by the offer, and was, but what sold it was Adelaide referring to Collin and Lily as belonging to both Jane and Maura. Her number of living blood relatives had been cut down again far too soon, but here came an acknowledgement of the family Jane still had, that she had chosen for herself.
"That's real sweet of ya, Adelaide," Jane said, her voice shuddering. "But Kay's already offered to do it. Besides..." She pulled back, trying to laugh. "Old bird like you, and young critters like them? Next thing y'know, we'd be at your funeral!"
Angela cringed at the joke, but Adelaide took it in stride. "Laugh while you can, Calamity Jane. When Kay moves back to Boston and those kids are running you ragged, you'll be begging for this old lady's help!"
"Mm, we'll see," Jane said, patting her on the shoulder.
Kay took Collin and the baby before the burial. Frankie did his best to keep a stiff upper lip throughout it, which was difficult enough without Angela weeping loudly on his shoulder. Frankie and Jane took up the shovels to put the dirt back over Tommy's casket, and Jane froze when one more pile would fully obscure the wood.
Goodbye, she thought.
And she kept burying.
Jane spent most of the day with Collin, teaching him how to play chess. She explained that it had been one of Tommy's favorite past times, and that made Collin eager to learn. With Maura's encouragement, she allowed Collin to win a few games, which took a lot of creative maneuvering on her part.
"All right," she eventually mumbled. "I gotta get out for a bit."
"Where are you going?" Collin asked.
"Gonna go shoot."
He sat back down, looking put out. "Oh. All right."
Jane had always hoped that if she and Maura got a boy, he would be in awe of her skills with a firearm. He would beg her every day for his own pistol, for her to teach him how to shoot, and show him her best marksmanship. Collin was, to Jane's initial disappointment, quite the opposite. Having grown up with a frightening, violent father, he was not at all interested in watching Jane use a gun or learning how to use one. Her lifelong habit of wearing her firearm everywhere had finally changed; she would remove it from its holster when she was at the house. Otherwise, Collin would look at it instead of her, fear in his eyes.
She went to the corral with Maura, who set up some empty beer bottles as targets. Jane's aim was off at first, but she quickly regained her usual focus. The glass shattered, but the typical satisfaction that came from a job well done eluded her. She shot faster, pulling the trigger harder. When all the bottles were gone, Jane holstered her gun, and without a word to Maura, started trekking towards the house. Maura took to her time cleaning up the mess, and when she got back home, saw that it was empty.
Through the window, she could see Jane sitting on the back porch steps. Magnum was sitting next to her, and she had one arm around him, leaning against him. On her other side, Jo Friday was curled up, her head propped on Jane's leg. If she looked hard enough, Maura could see that Jane was shaking. It was a sure bet that she was finally ridding herself of the tears she had been repressing all day, trying to look strong in front of the town that had already seen her lose so much. Maura's first instinct was to go out and be with her, but she got the distinct impression that Jane wanted to be alone right now. Or at least, alone from human contact.
And so, Maura went to mourn with the creature she had so often turned to in times when she'd needed solace, before Jane became that outlet. Bass, immovable as always, was in his usual corner of the sitting room, almost looking as if he had been waiting for Maura to approach him.
"Oh, Bass," she sighed, sinking onto the floor next to him. "How can I help her? How can I make sure she gets through this all right? How can I be sure not to make things worse, that I am doing what's best for her at all times?"
As if sensing someone had been talking about her, Jane came in through the back door just then. She was carrying Jo Friday and Magnum was at her side.
"I'm gonna go see Lily, and make sure Kay's got enough of that formula you made."
Maura stood up, noting that Jane had not phrased the statement in such a way as to indicate that Maura was invited. Still, "Would you like me to come?"
Jane shrugged. "Do what you want."
That was not encouraging. "I will stay here, then," she said, watching Jane for a reaction. Nothing. "Let you have some time alone with your niece."
"Just figured Kay might want a break," Jane muttered. "Jo and I'll go. Magnum, you stay here. Stay," she repeated, when Magnum tried to follow her out the door.
Magnum cocked his head at the front door, then turned and walked back around to Maura. She had since settled onto the couch, and Magnum went to stand by her, tail wagging. He had gotten so sizable now that when his tail hit something (in this case, the newly-upholstered chair by the sofa), it banged with a loud thump. It always amused Maura. She laughed, but abruptly those laughs turned to tears, and Magnum's tail stopped wagging when Maura slumped to the floor and put her arms around him to cry.
"Yes ma'am, no doubt about it, you take after your father. You've got his eyes. Their shape. Maura says it's likely they won't be blue forever. Maybe they'll be green, like Tommy's. I know it's a terrible thing, losin' your parents. I ain't got either of mine, Lily Mae. Didn't have 'em for a long time. I wonder if maybe you're better off havin' lost 'em this early—I mean, I wish you didn't ever have to lose your mother and father, but ...if they were gonna die young, maybe it's best it happened before you were ever old enough to remember 'em."
Jane was pacing around the garden behind Melody's boarding house. Lily had been having a wild fit when Jane had arrived. She'd taken the opportunity to show Kay (and Collin) how to change Lily's diaper cloth, and the cries subsided. Hoping to get her to nap, and wanting some time alone with her anyway, Jane had taken her outside—away from prying eyes of Kay's neighbors—to talk through some things.
"I guess you're mine now," she whispered. "Mine and Maura's. I don't wanna let you down like I let down my brother. Your father. I promise, Lily, I'm gonna do my level best to be the parent you deserve. I l..." She swallowed back more tears, kissing Lily's forehead. "I love you." A smile flitted across her face when Lily, barely awake, clasped her hand around Jane's index finger. "Look at that! That's some grip you got there. Tommy had a helluva grip, too. Bet you're gonna be good and strong like he was. I bet he's looking down on us right now, smiling at you and..."
She stopped there, stopped speaking and stopped walking. When Lily squirmed, Jane swayed a bit on the spot, but suddenly her thoughts felt blocked. Every part of her that had felt hollowed out by sorrow was now being filled with anxiety.
She returned to Kay's room and handed over Lily, thanking Kay again for watching the children. Jane grabbed Jo and held her as she rode back home, urging her horse to go faster than was probably advisable, but nobody she passed gave her any guff about it. The sun was almost set when she returned her horse to the corral, and Jo did her best to keep up as Jane hurried home.
Maura looked up the instant the door opened, and Magnum left her to go stand by Jane. Asking if Jane was all right felt like such a stupid question, and Maura swallowed it as she got to her feet. Of course Jane wasn't all right, but she seemed worse off now than she had all day.
"Maura, I'm scared," she said in a hollow voice. Trembling, she allowed Maura to walk her to their room, and they sat on the edge of the bed. Jane looked haunted, leaning forward with a faraway look in her eyes, not responding when Maura put an arm around her back.
"Jane? What could you possibly be afraid of?"
"Hell," Jane said. "I'm afraid of hell."
"Jane..."
"My brother had a baby with a girl he weren't married to," Jane whimpered. "And he wanted to be an outlaw. A real outlaw! To get money, to get fame, to get ...I dunno, but he didn't do—he wasn't ...he wasn't a bad person, Maura, he just made some mistakes, but they're mistakes I don't know if God'll forgive. He wasn't good like my father was good, or my mother. What if he can't be with 'em? What if he's—what if he's in hell? I was the last person he talked to, not a p-priest. He didn't have a chance for any deathbed repentance."
Maura pressed her lips together tightly, wishing there was something she could say to instantly alleviate Jane's concerns. "Jane, you heard Father Scott at the service, didn't you? He had wonderful things to say about Tommy."
"Yeah, he's a man of the cloth, but he don't know for sure."
"And neither do you."
"Yeah? Here's what I do know. Maybe I shoulda been here the whole time," Jane said, sounding angry that Maura didn't get it. "I mean it, Maura! What good did it do, all my running around? Jake Wyatt? What the hell did that accomplish? I wound up chasin' Hoyt for half my life, and I got him twenty miles outside my birthplace! What good did it do? What good did any of it do? I shoulda been here for my brothers! I shoulda been here, and I coulda made sure Tommy didn't make idols out of people like Jake—out of people like me," she said, the last word coming out in a sob. "I'm headed for hell, Maura, I'm headed straight for hell!"
"Jane, I understand you're grieving, but I can't just sit here and let you talk about yourself in this manner! You know how many lives you saved while you were gone! Jake Wyatt was a hero of the people, I don't care what the reporters or the law's official stance was."
"But it's my fault," Jane whispered in anguish.
"What? What is your fault?"
"T-Tommy turnin' out the way he did. A lowlife."
"Jane, none of the Rizzoli's I know are lowlives. And you especially have no reason to fear the gates of hell, because you are not going there. You are honest, sometimes to a fault. You're brave, you're compassionate, and you are more merciful than many people in your position would even bother trying to be."
"What about..." Jane sobbed again, waving a hand between the two of them. Her voice was thick. "Us? What about us, Maura? Ain't it a s... sin?"
Maura was shaking her head before Jane even finished the question. "No. Absolutely not."
"But—"
"Jane, you have saved my life in more ways than one. You love me, and I love you more than mere words can articulate. Together we have taken in two orphaned children, and will give them the love and support their parents are no longer able to provide. For all intents and purposes, I am your wife. And you are mine."
"Devil's in the details, my Pop used to say," Jane sniffed, wiping her eyes.
"Well, he's not in ours. Except for instances where we begin drowning in self-pity and fears of non-existent inadequacies. That's where he is."
Jane wasn't quite sure what to make of that, and it looked like Maura wasn't about to start explaining it. Aside from light confusion, Jane was starting to feel numb again. Numb and ignorant. She didn't know what to say. After what felt like a very long silence, Maura shifted to remove Jane's vest, and Jane stiffly allowed it. Maura folded it and moved to place it in the closet. When she returned, she got on her knees in front of Jane, pulling off her black boots.
Once the second one was off, Maura made to get back up, but Jane put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Maura?"
When Maura got up and curled her arms around her, Jane did not squirm away from the sentimental gesture. In fact she returned it in kind, also resting her head on Maura's shoulder, allowing herself the luxury of feeling like she was being protected. Neither of them spoke a word for several minutes. Maura could not assess the where or how to start, and Jane was struggling to make all her thoughts cohere.
When she finally did speak, Jane's voice made her sound parched: "I know it's out there, Maura."
Maura kissed her forehead. "What is, dearest?"
"Peace. I know it's there. I've had it, because of you."
"Then you'll find it again."
Jane shifted up, and Maura kissed her slowly, sweetly. It was so full of passion, yet far from heated, just expressing that passion. Jane kissed the corner of Maura's mouth, then her cheek.
"We," she finally said, giving Maura another kiss. "We will find it again."
