Author's Note: Hello, Readers! Thank you for joining me for this new story, which is very loosely based on an episode from my own childhood. I told katbybee about it and she said, "You've got to put that into a story!" And here we are. I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks to my beta readers, katbybee and Piscean6724 for all their help and encouragement! I've finished up my first NaNo project and now this will be my primary project for the rest of the month (and beyond, most likely).

Before the main story begins in Chapter 2, our good friend Taffy needs a proper send-off.

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Chapter 1

September 14, 1985

Swallowing hard, Matt squeezed Melissa's hand, then stood up and headed toward the platform, to take his place behind the pulpit. He looked out over the crowd of people gathered to bid Taffy Matthews farewell. They'd waited a long two months after Taffy's death to have his memorial service. It was important for everyone to be there. His adopted son, Phan, had come from Paris. Many of the Vietnamese orphans he'd cared for back in the Sixties were in attendance as well, along with their spouses and a lot of children. Newkirk was there, only recently emerged from a deep cover assignment that had kept him out of contact for more than a year and a half, and Kinch, whom Matt didn't know very well, had come with his family.

Matt's Aunt Ce and Uncle Pete had managed to get leave. The last time Matt had seen them was at his wedding last year when they'd barely had twenty-four hours at home. Grandpère had flown in with Phan. And of course, Uncle Rob and Aunt Marie and Anton had come as well. Roy DeSoto and John Gage had brought their families. Kel and Dixie Brackett were there too. Dixie was pale as a ghost, staying close to her husband, whose hunched shoulders and tight grip on his wife indicated he was grieving too. Wherever Taffy had gone, he ended up making friends and touching hearts. Matt understood now better than ever that the old chaplain had a way of changing people.

They'd quickly realized that the church sanctuary was too small to hold everyone who wanted to pay their respects. The church leadership had first set up chairs in the narthex and the cry room, then set up a video feed in the fellowship hall. Even then, there was standing room only.

Matt had been very nervous about this moment while sitting in the pew. He didn't have much experience in public speaking and had almost failed the communications class he was required to take in high school. But Gramps and Uncle Rob had asked him to give the eulogy because he and Taffy had grown especially close in the months before Taffy's death. At first, he'd said no way, but later that night he'd started writing down his thoughts about Taffy, and the next day he'd told Gramps he would do it after all. Now that he stood here, he said a silent prayer and felt his nervousness overtaken by a deep sense of calm. He pulled a note card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, took a deep breath, and began.

"When I was born, my folks named me after Taffy Matthews. Most of you just know me as Matthew, or Matt, Carter. Only a few know that my full name is Valentine Matthew Carter. That first name used to embarrass me, and from Kindergarten on I insisted on being called Matt. Matthew is a good name… I'll keep using it. But today I'm willing to wear my full name proudly, and that's because of the man it came from, the man we've come together to remember. I hope that I can make Taffy proud with how I wear it.

"Most of you know that I'm a paramedic… a first responder. Well, I have come to see that Taffy had a lot in common with first responders. Now, he didn't run into burning buildings or put out fires or chase down criminals. But he talked me through dark days and helped me to see light at the end of the tunnel. He gave me a reason to hope when I was close to giving up, and I know I'm not the only one." Matt heard a stifled sob from the congregation and looked out to see Dr. Brackett with his arms around Dixie, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Taffy Matthews cared about people deeply. He didn't care what you had done or what you looked like. He just looked at you and saw someone in need of love and prayer, and he was ready and willing to give it. Doctors and paramedics treat physical injuries and illnesses… Taffy's specialty was the kind of hurt you can't always see on the outside or in an x-ray. He knew how to handle a broken heart and a wounded spirit. He knew how to soften anger and restore calm. Valentine Teagan Matthews was one of the best men I'll ever know. Taffy, we miss you. But we know you're home and you're healthy again and you're probably up there teaching Welsh hymns to the angels. Farewell, Taffy. We'll see you in Heaven."

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Two days after Taffy's funeral, Roy DeSoto sat on the back porch staring at an envelope that had just arrived in the mail. It had been addressed in a familiar hand… Taffy's hand. Roy opened the envelope and slid out a single sheet of stationery, unfolded it, and began to read. It was dated two days before Taffy had passed.

Dear Roy,

Today I am writing to each of my boys. As the day of my passing nears, you are on my mind and in my prayers. I am proud of the man you have become. Back when I first knew you, I saw two paths stretching before you… one led to destruction, the other to healing. You chose the better path, and a great many lives are richer because of it. Enclosed, please find a small gift to be used for your son Daniel Jesse's education. He is a fine boy and a bright light in a dark world.

With love,

Taffy

Roy looked back in the envelope and noticed a slip of paper he had missed before. He fished it out and discovered a money order for five thousand dollars. He sat back, stunned, in his chair, wondering how Taffy could have known about this need. He and Jo had been talking about a new school for DJ, whose needs just weren't being met in his public school. There was a fantastic private school for children with special needs just a few blocks from home, but the tuition was out of reach unless JoAnne went to work, something they both preferred to avoid while DJ was still so young.

"You got one too?"

Roy looked up to see Johnny stepping out onto the back porch, an identical envelope in hand. From inside the house, he could hear Jo gushing over the twins. He chuckled and shook his head. "Can't believe I forgot you were coming to dinner." Then he held up the letter and the money order. "Leave it to Taffy. Somehow he knew."

Johnny lowered himself into a chair and took the letter. After reading it, he handed it back, nodding. "Yeah, leave it to Taffy. My letter was similar… but his gift will cover what's left of Nita's medical bills from last year."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "I didn't know that was still an issue," he said. "We could've…"

"No, Roy." John shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "We didn't want that. Billing has been real good about it… put us on a payment plan we could manage for what insurance didn't cover. Taffy just made it a lot easier is all. Thanks to him, I can make the final payment on Monday and we can start building up our savings again. But I never said anything to him about it… I didn't even know he thought of me that way."

"As one of his boys?" Roy chuckled. "That was Taffy's way with just about everyone he met. I'm not sure why I'm surprised about this." He picked up the money order. "I mean… I never said anything either, but…" He sighed. "You know, there's a part of me that's too proud to accept it. I don't want to profit off Taffy's death… I… don't like getting it this way."

John put a hand on Roy's back. "Listen, Roy. I thought the same thing at first. But look at it this way. For whatever reason, he wanted to do this for us. I think we need to accept it and be grateful. Taffy was a good man."

"An exceptional man," Roy countered. He raised his beer bottle. "To Taffy Matthews."

Johnny grabbed a beer from the cooler between them and clinked it against Roy's. "To Taffy Matthews," he echoed, then popped off the cap and took a swig. "May he rest in peace."

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Kelly Brackett closed his office door and sat down at his desk. The Emergency department could get along without him for a while. He needed to put the final touches on the paper he would be presenting later that week at an Emergency Medicine conference in Seattle. But first, he had two letters he wanted to look at privately. The first was addressed to him in a familiar script, one that made his heart clench slightly. He'd thought he had received the last of these letters after Matthew Carter found Taffy dead on a plane at LAX. Someone had to have mailed it for him around the time of the funeral, or it would have arrived weeks ago. He wasn't going to ask questions — letters from Taffy tended to arrive precisely when they were needed. Kel blinked moisture from his eyes, then grabbed his letter opener, neatly slit the top of the envelope, and slid the contents out. Two folded papers came out — one was clearly a money order. He decided to read the letter first and wait to satisfy his curiosity.

Dear Kelly,

Today I have spent a few hours writing to my boys. Of course, I still number you among them, and so my last letter is to you. By the time you read this, I will have gone Home. I want to thank you for letting me know potential areas of need for Roy DeSoto and John Gage. Had I asked them directly, I know they would have been less than forthcoming. But now we come to you and Dixie. You have been less helpful there, I am afraid. Therefore, I send you this gift in hopes that you will find the right use for it. Whether it be a need or a wish, I am glad to have a part in fulfilling it. Kelly, I'm sure it is no surprise to you that my feelings for Dixie have never dimmed. I take joy in the knowledge that she is loved and cherished by a good man. Thank you for being to her what I could not. As I prepare to cross the threshold from this life into the next, know that you and Dixie are on my heart and in my prayers.

With love,

Taffy

Kel laid the letter down and unfolded the money order. Five thousand dollars. He shook his head, smiling slightly. Leave it to Taffy.

The next letter that required his attention was from Denny Schwartz, one of his dearest friends. Denny was married to his other dearest friend, Lydia, whom Kel had thought of as a sister ever since they were at Johns Hopkins together. He took a deep breath before opening this letter. Usually, Lyddie was the one who wrote, not Denny. He sliced open the envelope, withdrew the letter, and began to read.

Dear Kel,

After six wonderful months of remission, Lyddie's cancer is back. This time she is declining treatment. The oncologist gives her six weeks, at the most. Please come, and bring your Dixie. Lyddie is asking for you.

Love,

Denny

Just a few short lines, but they impacted Kel like a punch in the gut. He dropped the letter on the desk. Closing his eyes, he balled his hands into fists and took several deep breaths. He wasn't ready for another goodbye. Especially not Lyddie… not the big sister who had so often talked sense into him, brought him down a peg or two when he needed it, spoken love and hope and courage and life into his heart so many times over the years of their friendship. His thoughts turned to Denny… his best friend… who now faced losing the woman he'd loved for almost forty years. Kel blinked back tears. Forget the conference. He needed to go find Dixie, and then they needed to put in for emergency leave and get tickets on the first possible flight to D.C.

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"Wait… Taffy did what?" Matt sat forward in his seat, his heart thumping in his chest. Surely he hadn't heard the lawyer correctly. He thought when he was summoned to attend the reading of Taffy's will, that the elderly chaplain had left him a token bequest. Something to honor the fact that they'd become close over the last months of Taffy's life. But this… this was impossible.

"Other than a few small, private bequests, Mr. Matthews divided his estate evenly between you and Phan Matthews. After my fees are taken care of, each of you will receive twenty thousand dollars." Lawyer Daphne Williams laid an envelope on the table in front of Matt. "He also left you this letter and a sealed crate. I'm not sure what it contains, but your name is on it. You're to read the letter before you open the crate."

Matt reached for the envelope and was about to open it when the lawyer put out a hand to stop him. "You should read it later, with your wife," she said softly. "It's for both of you."

With a slight nod, Matt sat back and eyed Phan, looking for any hint of resentment in the older man. He saw none. Only a genuine expression of good-will and friendship.

"Matthew," Phan said. He leaned close to cover Matt's hand with his own and look him directly in the eyes. "My father thought very highly of you. He makes you this gift to remember and honor your Jordan."

The lawyer nodded. "Yes, there is no stipulation to use the money in any particular way, but Mr. Matthews did say he hoped it would honor your child's memory." She passed Matt a stack of papers across her desk. "If you'll sign these documents, I can give you your check and then we'll be done."

Speechless, Matt just nodded again as he took the papers and picked up a pen from the lawyer's desk. He signed each highlighted line, then passed them back to her. In exchange, she handed him a slim envelope. "The crate is by the door. It's rather heavy, but I have a luggage dolly you can use."

"Thanks." Matt got to his feet.

Phan did the same, and the two men embraced. "Father thought of you as one of his boys," the Vietnamese man said, "and so I consider you a brother." He stood back and clasped Matt's hand. "You eased his last days when I could not be with him. Thank you."

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Later that evening, Matt sat with Melissa on the sofa in their apartment living room. The braided cord Taffy had given them at their wedding ceremony hung on the wall above them. Taking care not to tear the envelope, addressed to him in Taffy's familiar spidery script, he opened it and drew out a thin page of stationery, then began to read aloud.

My Dear Ones,

I am sitting in the courtyard of Ma Belle Paix on a beautiful summer afternoon, conscious that my days on this earth draw swiftly to a close. I do not fear death. It is but a transition, a crossing of the threshold into greater, truer life than I could ever imagine. When you read these words, I will be Home.

Matthew, my boy, I have treasured our long talks over these last several months. You have become a true seeker, eager to drink in the truth and let the joy of it spill over to everyone you meet. I sense that you are restless in the path you have followed till now, that perhaps you are ready to set your feet on a new path. That's what the crate is about. I pray that the contents will help you find your way.

And now, a gift for your little Jordan, and for both of you, of course.

Matt glanced at Melissa before he continued. She had closed her eyes, but was sitting up straight, listening intently. "Go on," she said softly.

Matt nodded and kept reading.

I never really tried my hand at writing poetry, but last night after Matthew left my room, I was thinking of Jordan and these lines came to me. I had to write them down. I pray that they might comfort you. When I come to Heaven, know that I will bring Jordan your love. We will be grand friends, I am quite certain.

Straight from Mama's heart you flew,

A tiny thing on angel's wings,

Flew to the heart of God.

In the Father's arms you rest,

Far from tears, without fears,

Close to the heart of God.

Matt had to stop and wipe away tears before he could read the last stanza. To his surprise, though, the emotion he was feeling wasn't painful. He missed Jordan and he was still grieving — he figured he always would be in some sense — but he also felt joy deep within his heart, pulsing steadily. Jordan was in a good place, loved and happy. He dried his eyes, then went on:

In Heav'n's green fields you play,

Full of life, free of strife,

Safe in the heart of God.

With love,

Taffy

Matt sucked in a deep breath as he dropped the letter onto the coffee table. Melissa wrapped her arms around him and pressed her moist cheek against his chest. As he massaged her back, he bent to kiss the top of her head. "Let's go to bed, honey."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yeah. You can open the crate tomorrow."