It was easier to silently watch as Harm promised another woman 'til death do us part' than it is for me to stand here in the cemetery and bite my tongue. This entire memorial service is a sham. I want to rage at the people standing up to say a few words about their "friend." Ryleigh was more than just a history professor or a "Devlin." A person's not defined by their occupation or who their parents are. It makes me wonder if any of them really knew her.
The last three days were emotionally draining. I spent every day with Harm helping him through the arrangements and listening if he wanted to talk. Everything in the house reminded us of our loss. While flipping through late night television I ran across an old episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, remembering it as my friend's guilty pleasure, promptly burst into tears. He and I decided to wait until after the service to go through her belongings. Most of them were going to charity, though there were a few things Harriet, Velma and I were going to keep.
I'm glad Harm insisted on keeping her mother out of the loop when it came to the service arrangements. She would have insisted on having an elaborate church service with a choir, minister and a thousand attendees. We chose to have a small graveside service with no formal program. It's a bright, sunny warm day. She would have loved it.
Finally it's my turn to speak. I look around at her students, family friends and her parents. Their eyes are damp with tears and a few are crying openly. Are they crying because she's no longer available to be their perfect teacher and daughter or because they will never see her smile or hear her laugh? Did There are so many things I want to say. Unfortunately the person I want to say them to is not around to hear me.
"Ryleigh Astra Devlin Rabb was a bitchy, moody, opinionated, bossy woman." A collective gasp comes from my audience. I glance over at Harm and he smiles at me. That gives me the courage to continue. "She was also loyal, compassionate, and the sweetest woman I've ever met. When I first met her, she had something I wanted. I desperately tried to hate her but I just couldn't. She was a wonderful mess of contradictions. The woman who fearlessly chased an armed purse-snatcher five blocks was the same woman who screeched like a banshee at the sight of a small spider. She was the first person to tell you when you screwed up, when you did good she was the one clapping the loudest. I envied her grace, passion and exuberance. She was my friend and I loved her."
Relieved to have gotten all that off my chest, I sag against Harm. Automatically one of his arms wraps around my waist. He won't be speaking today. We talked about it this morning and he doesn't feel that he can get through his speech without breaking down. As predicted, he's feeling guilty for not loving Rye the way he should have and for not being able to help her. I told him what her letter said but I'm not sure if it did any good.
A few more speeches are given, but something else has caught my attention. William is standing at the edge of the crowd. He looks handsome in his dark gray suit and matching tie. My eyes move to the figure next to him. She, the dress being a dead giveaway, is covered from head to toe in black. My hopes start to rise but I quickly dash them down. It can't be Ryleigh. I read the doctor's report. The cancer medication as well as the cancer itself had taken their toll on her system. The additional strain of the surgery and the anesthesia was simply more than her body could handle. Her temperature spiked, the first indication that something was wrong. She went into respiratory and cardiac arrests and, despite their efforts to save her, she was pronounced dead a few minutes later.
"Yes, Mac, because we all know government agents would never fake their death," the voice inside my head, which sounds irritatingly like Clayton Webb, mocks. I brush those thoughts aside and force myself to listen to Sturgis' final remarks. Slowly the group begins to break up. Mrs. Devlin is holding a reception at her house, but neither Harm nor I are up to attending. We are among the last to leave, not willing to leave the place where our friend's remains lie in a small urn buried in the ground. As we reluctantly walk away from the site, William and his companion move to stand in front of the granite headstone.
I hear a derisive snort come from the woman and stop in my tracks. Harm stops as well and tilts his head to the side curiously. He's dismissed the snort but I recognize it as one of Ryleigh's characteristic moves. I gesture for him to continue to the car. There's no sense in causing him anymore grief. The couple is speaking lowly so I move a step backward to hear them.
"Kinda sad, isn't it?" The woman's voice is not Ryleigh's. Her English accent is coarse and unrefined like William's and the pitch isn't quite right. He's probably brought a sister or friend with him. I curse myself as my eyes fill with tears. I desperately wanted it to be her.
"What is, pet?" William responds gently.
I turn my head slightly to see them kneeling next to the headstone. The woman reaches out one slender hand to trace the engraved letters. "When you die, your whole life is summed up on one small rock and no one ever says anything personal. It's always 'Beloved mother' or 'she was loved.' Couldn't they have found something better to put than 'Death isn't the end but a new beginning?' Come on. That's got be the cheesiest line there is."
William laughs, stands and pulls the woman to her feet. "Fitting, isn't it?" She grudgingly agrees and takes one last long look at the headstone.
If only they knew how long Harm and I agonized over a proper epithet. Nothing anyone suggested seemed to fit. Still believing she was still alive somewhere, I insisted on the new beginning one and Harm finally capitulated. A strong breeze lifts the dark scarf from the woman's head and I hold my breath, hoping to see a flash of red hair. This has to be Ryleigh. Why else would they find the words so fitting?
"Come on, Mac, let's go." Harm's voice has me turning my head in his direction. I quickly glance back to see woman struggling with her scarf. A tendril of dark blonde hair comes loose from her bun and my heart sinks even lower. I silently trudge to where Harm is waiting.
"What did you see?" he queries once we're in the car.
I stare out the window to where William and the blonde are walking through the empty cemetery. "Nothing, Harm. Was hoping to catch a ghost, that's all."