Chapter Seven

Charlie kneeled down and adjusted Mike's black tie. He looked into the eight-year-old's eyes, and forced himself to smile weakly, ruffling his young brother's hair as he stood up.

"Ready?" He asked, looking at his older sister. She took a deep breath.

"Ready." Nora replied, watching the black funeral cars arrive, and taking told of Nigel and Kyle's hands. The Baker children walked out together, holding hands in small groups and organised themselves into the three waiting cars.

It was cloudy that day. Nora watched the sky grow more and more grey. Maybe it would rain. It would certainly be appropriate for the mood. She watched ordinary people on the street take their hats off as the vehicle passed them. Some bowed their heads. It almost made her cry. But she could not do that now. Not yet.

"Why are they doing that?" Asked Sarah, from the back seat. Nora turned to her. She was sitting in between Nigel and Kyle, holding their hands. The two boys simply stared out of the window. Under any other circumstances, it would have been odd for the two to be so quiet and still for so long. Nora coughed to clear the lump from her throat.

"U-uh, it's a sign of respect. For Mom and Dad." Sarah nodded in acknowledgement and turned to look out of the window.

The rest of the journey was quiet.

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When the cars arrived at the church, the family climbed out and stood in front of the steps that would lead them in. Charlie and Henry were ushered away with the older male relatives who were also pallbearers. The rest of the family huddled together tightly.

Jake felt a tug on his suit jacket, and looked down to see Kyle staring at the two hearses containing their parents, that were waiting at the other side of the church building. The eleven year old pulled his brother into a tighter hug and pursed his lips together.

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The Baker children filled up the first row of the church, many clutching each other desperately whilst others seemed emotionless and remained still as their siblings clung to them. Their friends and family filled the seats behind them, and when everyone was inside the church, they were asked to stand.

Lorraine burst into tears as the two caskets passed by, sobbing loudly as she and Sarah held one another in a vice like grip.

When the minister finally welcomed the friends and family and began the service, Nora had zoned out almost completely. She felt sick. What if she couldn't give the eulogy? What if she'd forgotten the paper with the speech she'd written, or if she got up in front of the church and stood silently like a deer in the headlights? Or what if her parents simply didn't want to be remembered in that way? Had she ever even asked them? Maybe they hated black at funerals. Perhaps they had a sudden change of heart in the months before their death and didn't want a church funeral anymore. Unlikely, but possible, Nora told herself. She had seen her parents very little in the months before their death, was she really the best person to summarise their lives at their funeral? Who had assigned her this job anyway?

Calm down, she told herself. It'll be fine. Nora tightened her grip around Kyle and Mark, who sat by on either side, before taking a deep breath. Her father had taught her that before her first spelling bee when she was around Mike's age. As she stood backstage waiting for her name to be called, Nora's palms were sweaty and she was shaking with fear.

"Hey, sweetheart." She heard, turning to see Tom behind her.

"Daddy, you aren't supposed to be back here." Tom noticed that his daughter seemed a little unnerved.

"I know, I know. I just thought I'd come to wish you good luck and see how you're doing." He patted her on the shoulder. Nora sighed.

"There's a lot of people out there." The eight year old said, looking through a hole in the curtain.

"Are you nervous?" Tom asked. Nora bit her lip and nodded. "Well, you're in luck. I have the perfect trick for nerves."

"What is it?" She looked up at him.

"Okay, first you have to stand up REALLY tall, like you're about to fight a dragon and you want to scare him away. You put your hands by your sides, unclench your hands, and breath in REALLY deep through your nose. As deep as you can, that's it. Now you hold it for a second, and breath out. Now, how do you feel?"

"Better."

"Ready to fight a dragon?"

"Yep!"

"Then a little spelling bee is nothing !" Nora smiled at this. Her dad always knew what to do or say.

"Just remember, Nora, Mom and I love you no matter how you do today. We know you're a good speller, and we're proud of you no matter what." Nora hugged her father tight.

"Thanks, Dad." Nora heard her name called. "I have to go!"

"Good luck, honey." Tom said as his eldest daughter hurried on stage.

The voice of the minister interrupted her thoughts.

"Now, we'll hear from Tom and Kate's eldest daughter, Nora, who will give a short eulogy." She heard him stay.

Nora stood, and walked carefully to the front of the large church. She felt herself shaking, her palms sweating, and the feeling of nausea return to her stomach as she stood behind the podium and unfolded the piece of paper which was the eulogy. She stared out into the full church, where family and friends crammed into the pews and looked up at her with a pitiful, but expectant look in their eyes. Nora saw her brothers and sisters together in the front row, holding each other. She saw Jake holding Mike and Kyle tight to his sides, his face scrunched up, trying without much luck, not to cry. Henry and Jessica, who just weeks ago would fight like cats and dogs, stood together. Whilst she sobbed into his shirt, he had his arm protectively around her shoulders as he stared the ground.

Nora knew what she had to do, if not for them, for their parents. She stood up a little and took a deep breath before she began, a little shakily at first.

"I'd just like to say from myself and all my brothers and sisters, thank you for coming. We're amazed at just how many people loved our parents and came together to say goodbye.

Tom Baker was born on May 18th 1954 in Michigan to loving parents, John and Lydia. He was the second of what was to be eight children. They spent their childhood on a small farm, and they were happy. Whenever I asked my dad about his childhood, he'd say that they didn't have a lot of money to spare as a kid, so birthdays meant one small gift, if even that, and hand-me-downs were all you had, but looking back, it didn't really matter that much. Being surrounded by family and knowing that you were loved at all times meant that money wasn't a priority, and you were never alone when you needed someone to help you or play with you. He loved having seven brothers and sisters, and in a time before video games and the internet, the great outdoors and sports, were a great way to pass the time.

My father started playing football at the age of four, when my grandpa handed him a dirty ball and taught him how to catch. At first, it was just fun, as well as being a valid reason to get dirty and wrestle with my Uncle Mike for the ball. However, football quickly became a huge part of his life, before he knew it, he was playing games with friends every weekend, and in high school, joined the football team and lead his team to victory. As a result of his great success, he was accepted to college on a football scholarship.

My mother, Kate was born on February 2nd 1957 in Illinois to parents Patrick and Katherine Gilbreth. My mom was very close to her sister, Sarah, who unfortunately died from cancer when she was six, and my mom was seven. This meant that my Mom spent a lot of time playing by herself and making up stories in her head. She once told me that it was the way she coped, because in her head she could make anything happen, including bringing her sister back.

As time went on, the stories in her head became stories on paper, and the stories on paper became articles on real life events in her high school newspaper. My mom developed a passion for writing non-fiction, and wrote anything and everything. This grew when she was accepted to college to study journalism.

My parents met at Illinois Polytechnic University in 1975. My mom was a freshman and my dad was a senior on the football team. They clicked immediately. Dad said he knew right away that she was different to any of the other girlfriends he had before and talked about how smart, kind and beautiful she was, and Mom said that he was charming and handsome, and an hour after she met him, she knew that he was the one for her. It was decided very quickly that they were going to have a large family, due to my Mom's lonely childhood and my Dad's experiences in a big family. They decided that eight was their number. And that was that.

After my Dad finished college, he found a job as a coach, as a back injury that meant that he would never play football professionally. My mom stayed to finish college before getting a job at the Chicago Tribune. They married in a small, but beautiful ceremony. Almost exactly a year after the wedding, I was born. After four years of being an only child, my parents decided it was time to start work on their plan of having eight kids. Charlie was born when I was five, followed by Lorraine two years after that. It was then that my parents realised that raising a large family with big careers in a busy city did not work. They decided that although they loved their jobs, their family came first, so my Mom quit her job and my Dad settled for a less prestigious job, and we moved to Midland in 1989.

Almost half way to their ideal count of eight, Henry, Sarah, Jake and Mark were all born within four years of moving to Midland, and when going for number eight, ended up pregnant with twins, Kim and Jessica. Within another four years, Mike, Nigel and Kyle were born, and my parents decided that maybe they had enough kids now. Twelve became their number.

We lived in Midland for thirteen years before my Dad got his dream job offer, to coach the Stallions at his alma mater. With twelve kids, a dog and a book in the process of being published, it wasn't a decision that my parents took lightly. They moved here almost a year ago, and went through one of the hardest times of their lives. But even that didn't break them apart. After twenty six years, they were still going strong.

One of the few things that myself and my brothers and sisters all agree on is that we couldn't have asked for better parents. We were lucky. We had parents that loved us unconditionally, taught us well, struggled and supported us through the good times and the bad. But most importantly, we had parents that were not afraid to make mistakes. We had parents that understood that life is not a walk in the park, that it's a battle, and if you don't have an army to fight with, you won't make it through. Our mom and dad strongly believed that bravery, kindness, respect and gratitude come from within the family. And if you take anything from this message today, it's that our lives are short, so make the most of who you have in your life whilst they're still around. Charles Kuralt said 'The love of family and the admiration of friends is much more important than wealth and privilege.' Thank you."

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The two caskets stood on in front of the grave which they would soon share. The many mourners dressed in black stood nearby as the last prayers were said. A single white rose was given to each of the children, who placed them one by one on top of caskets.

As the service ended, the mourners left the family alone. Tom's brother, Danny patted Charlie on the shoulder as he left with his two daughters, stating that they would see them at the house.

Charlie tried not to cry, reminding himself that he needed to be strong for them, however he could not stop the tears from falling. He looked around at his family. He felt Nigel leaning against his hip in silence and tightened his grasp on him. Kim had wrapped her arms around his stomach and was crying into his shirt. Lorraine and Sarah stood together, holding each other tightly and crying. Nora stared at the caskets with tears pouring down her eyes; Kyle and Mark clung to her. Mike huddled next to them, hugging Jake, who was wiping his tears away with great force, making the skin around his eyes an angry red colour. Henry stood close by, with his arm around Jessica, who held tightly to Kim's hand. The twelve stood for a while, comforting each other and mourning their own losses before their tears began to subside and they stood silently.

"Let's go home."

I rewrote this. Another long break between updates. I've had some really amazing reviews, so if that could continue, it'd be great ;) Let me know what you think. Questions/suggestions appreciated.