Every seat was full, with additional mourners lining the outer aisles, as the Janes and Hernandezes filed into the reserved front pew at their home church. Sharing the front row with them were the elderly Lisbon brothers with their families, Danny Ruskin and his wife, and also Annie and Jason Wylie – who by now had a mature family of five.
In honor of his music-loving mother, and inspired by his trickster father, Brendan Jane had 'arranged' for Willie Shubert to be played as people gathered, instead of the traditional weepy organ. He grinned with mischievous pride at having switched out the CDs before Father O'Brien realized what had happened.
"Your mom would totally appreciate this Bren!" Briar cooed, in her street-smart Boston way. "She'd also point out that a gag like this is your dad coming out in you," she winked and gave him a supportive squeeze. Levity had always seemed to help her when she'd had to bear her own grief, and she was determined to be a rock for her tender-hearted Brendan today. She knew how close the Janes were as a family, and she knew that underneath his adorable grin her husband must be hurting quite terribly. Briar knew how much she was going to deeply miss Teresa's sass and thoughtful advice; the women had grown quite close over the years.
Sitting on the other side of Brendan, Meghan Elizabeth was being held close by her beloved Trey. The eldest living Jane child watched her father with careful concern throughout the proceedings. She herself was absolutely gutted at having to say goodbye to her mother; but she knew without doubt that her dad was feeling the absence even more deeply. Meghan couldn't even remember the last time her parents had spent this much time apart.
Tearful and broken though he was, Jane winked at his daughter in hopes of calming her worries for him, then pointed to the speakers with a quick grin at Brendan, ensuring his son knew he'd noticed the fitting trick the young man had played on the funeral officiants here. Patrick had a little prank of his own to play, but that would come later. For a moment he could swear he heard Lisbon's disciplinary voice correcting him for even thinking about pranks in such a somber situation. He smiled and chuckled to himself, reaching to touch the gold cross he'd begun wearing beneath his open-collared shirts recently. Since Teresa's passing, he'd worn her rings, along with Angela's band, on the same chain with Lisbon's familiar gold cross. He found himself reaching to hold them in his fingers every time he missed her, which was quite often indeed.
Please let me be wrong.
To the visible concern of his children, Patrick insisted on saying a few words during the memorial, despite his cavernously aggrieved state. Gathering himself, he moved slowly to the lectern and tried to speak, only to be clenched by emotion when he saw the standing-room-only crowd of friends, coworkers and family who shared his admiration for Teresa Lisbon. With some struggle, the biofeedback eventually brought him to a workable equilibrium, allowing him enough control to speak:
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't immensely moved at the sight of so many who were touched by the irreplaceable Agent Teresa Lisbon. Sister, aunt, mother, crime-fighter, lover, friend, protector, believer, healer, she was so many things to so many people, and that's never been more clear to me than today, seeing all of you here to honor her," he paused to wipe his tearful eyes and regroup, looking down for the length of a deep breath. "I've never been more aware of just how lucky I've been to not only work with her, but to share every part of my heart, soul and life with her for so many years. These past few decades by her side have been some of the sweetest times of my life.
Many of you are more than aware of how closely we lived our lives - even before we shared our hearts. And those of you from the early days at the CBI remember what she and I went through together... how perilous life seemed then... And that woman never backed down," he paused grinning with pride, as knowing acknowledgements chattered reverentially around the room. "Yet she maintained a belief and a vision of the best in people. You saw how she tolerated so much from me without ever abandoning hope or prayer for my redeemed future... she, herself, was that redemption. I owe her so very much - though she would be the first to tell you that she felt the same way about me. Life with her was such a dream. And today it is excruciatingly painful to be awake."
Jane struggled visibly with that truth, launching tears of pained understanding in his children's and grandchildren's eyes. His next words were spoken with a noticeable tremble: "To be honest, I'm not sure I know how to live without Teresa Lisbon beside me," he cleared his throat, suddenly gripped by determination, "but I know that she would want me to do just that. It feels sad and strange waking up and not seeing her beautiful sage eyes looking back at me… occasionally accompanied by raised eyebrows at something I'd done or said to get myself into trouble," he flashed a grin at the gathered friends who chuckled at that last part - they had seen the exact expression he was describing on countless occasions over the years. "But truly, today I am so grateful for the time we were privileged to spend together… for the full life we were able to build… for the re-discovery every day that we were soulmates of the highest order," he smiled and glanced over as Meghan and Trey squeezed each other a little tighter upon hearing that comment. "And I am immensely proud of the wonderful humans we created together in Meghan and Brendan - and of their families, too. I stand here today amazed at the life I have and the people I get to share it with; and none of it would have been possible without my dearest love, Teresa."
Jane ended his moving tribute with the story of he and Lisbon's rooftop ice cream chat, and the many times he had told her "When you're dead, you're dead." He added this parting shot: "Most of you know that I've spent the greater part of my life in pride at always being the smartest person in the room… an arrogant, cocky bastard always being proved right," for a split second the consultant grinned magnanimously as a murmur of comments and snickers crackled knowingly through the space. His face grew painfully sincere, though, for the following words: "But as I stand before you today, on this point about the existence of a supernatural 'ever after,' I can honestly say to all of you that I have never been more desperate to be proven wrong." His voice cracked as he stepped away from the microphone, immediately breaking into tears and sobs which refused to be muffled. The Jane children quickly made a space for their father between them, as Patrick buried his face in his hands for a few minutes, being held by Meghan on one side, and Brendan on the other.
After the last of the numerous tributes was spoken, Jane called the CBI and FBI teams in attendance up to the front for one final moment as a team with Lisbon.
Struggling to remain stoic, Kimball Cho spoke a pronouncement: "Special Agent Teresa Lisbon Jane, it has been our collective honor to serve both under your leadership and alongside you as equals. You will be greatly missed by every one of us, but rest easy, Boss. Case closed."
As a trumpeter played taps from somewhere outside, Cho gave a salute to Lisbon, and the teams huddled together in a gesture of shared grief and support, before disbanding to allow the hordes of mourners to each pay their respects as they filed out of the sanctuary.
Jane fiddled with something in his fingers as the teams found their way back to their families. No one caught Patrick's slight-of-hand as Father O'Brien spoke the benediction, and invited everyone to move to their cars for the coming procession.
The paper frog blended in so seamlessly with the white satin fabric cradling Teresa's still countenance, that no one seemed to even notice it there. Streams of mourners walked past, many stopping to offer a final goodbye to Lisbon on their way. When there was a sudden squeal from the front of the room, Jane smirked.
Meghan immediately turned to her father; eyebrows high. "What did you do?"
Jane smiled quickly, hearing the echo of his wife's voice in Meghan's words, and imagining Teresa shaking her head at his shenanigans. He pulled his daughter close and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. "Nothing she wouldn't have expected," he sparkled mischievously.
Right as Patrick was beginning to crumble back into grievous sobs, Grace Van Pelt reached the front of the line. She lingered a moment beside Lisbon, then hurried to Jane, seeing him in such distress. Grabbing him firmly by his shoulders and leaning in close, eye to eye, she said with urgent confidence: "Jane, listen to me. You will see her again. I'm sure of it." Grace had been telling him he was wrong about God since the very beginning.
"Thank you, Grace." Jane sniffled, pulling her in for a grateful hug, and exchanging a solemn nod with Wayne Rigsby, who stood a few paces away, waiting for his tender-hearted wife.
The exchange with Grace brought back a memory of words that a teenage Meghan had shared with him during a tender talk about Angela and Charlotte: "I know you'll see them again someday. I feel it in my heart and soul," she had said. Jane had smiled and pushed her words aside that day, telling himself that she would discover eventually that 'when you're dead, you're dead.'
Please let me be wrong.
After the last mourner had exited the building, Jane was allowed one more moment alone with his beloved wife. He gently kissed her forehead and carefully tucked the love-laden paper frog inside her front jacket pocket. Then, with a nod to the priest, he allowed the final preparations to begin. As the holy man prayed over her, Jane reached out to tap his arm: "Father, erm… do I call you Father?"
The priest smiled, gently amused, "Yes, Patrick, that will do."
"I'm gonna need your help with this. I've developed a plan to get myself into heaven – I sort of promised her I'd meet her there. But I have no idea how to train myself to believe. And really the main issue is, I have a very sordid past – before Teresa, I mean. And there were a number of questionable choices even after we met. But if there's any chance for a charlatan like me to find her in the big 'forever,' then I want to take that chance."
"This exact moment is one she has prayed for, for years, Patrick. I'm happy to help – let's talk in a few days?"
"Perfect. Thank you."
"Truly, it's my pleasure." Father O'Brien closed his eyes in thanks before he made his way to his own vehicle.
Organized and hosted by friends, a post-funeral luncheon was held at the Jane family home. While supporters by the dozens filled the kitchen and back lawn, Jane and his children were momentarily nestled privately together in the living room.
"Yes, church, and yes, God," the longtime cynic confirmed his stated plans to his amazed offspring who were on the edge of the family sofa with their jaws hanging low while still somehow grinning simultaneously. "As a matter of fact," Jane continued, fully enjoying the reaction he'd garnered from his two children, "doing so would be a wonderful honor to your mother. I don't know that I believe in any of his magic powers, but she certainly does…" He corrected himself soberly: "Did…"
"I think she'd be over the moon to hear your plan, Daddy," Meghan smiled wide, trying to brush off the overly-big emotions she herself was feeling about her father opening to the possibility that God was not, in fact, 'all bunk.'
"I think you might be right about that, my dear. And she was the absolute best person I've ever known; so if she was a believer, I suppose 'believing' can't be all bad, then," he glimmered with affectionate memory. "But really nobody knows for sure 'til they're dead." Jane finished with his hands up and shoulders shrugged.
"I feel ya, Pops!" Briar chimed in, entering from the kitchen. "I was never one to be all 'churchy' and stuff, but after my dad died, I suddenly got curious. It seemed so final, his death, and I was strongly attracted to the idea of the afterlife then - to the idea that I might get to see him again after all. I think a lot of people find religion that way - or at least they find God that way."
Brendan smiled at his wife, loving how she had retained her tough girl spunk even after twenty years and two kids. "We're here for anything you need, Dad. Whatever you find or don't find, it's gonna be a journey for sure. I can't imagine life without Mom, and I know that has to go at least double for you," he reached a hand to his father's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze.
Jane pulled his son into a full hug, dissolving into tears of grief and loss, but also tears of gratitude for the family he and Teresa had created. He was so gratified and overwhelmed by the truly wonderful people Meg and Brendan had become. He saw so much of his beloved partner in them – and also in their families. It was as if he and Lisbon had created humans who each had the authentic heart and empathetic soul of his Saint Teresa, but with enough of his own carny street-smarts to avoid being taken advantage of. He couldn't possibly be prouder of anyone, he thought, as he allowed full sobs of emotion to overtake him.
True to form, Jane and Brendan were soon joined in a group hug with Meghan, Trey and Briar, shedding tears in concert with one another at their shared loss, and shared love.
An hour or so later, after the supporters had left and the aftermath had been properly cleaned by the hosts, Brendan and Meghan approached their father with tentative eyes. They had been trying to help by organizing some of their mother's belongings, and had stumbled across something that seemed personal:
"Sorry Dad, we were just trying to organize Mom's things for you and we ran across these letters."
Jane assumed they meant the island letters: "Oh yes, those were special to her – she held onto the letters I wrote her from the island for her whole life"
Brendan stuttered, still feeling sheepish: "No, not those letters Dad, she must have written us each a letter when she realized her time was so short"
"What are you talking about?"
"These letters are to you, me, Meghan, Trey, Briar, and shorter ones for the grandchildren."
Jane's face morphed into the most wonderful combination of sadness and hope: Was there really one last message from his love? Was it true that her last words to him were yet to come? "Show me."
Meghan smiled as Brendan handed the sealed envelope to their dad, both awash in the beaming smile of curious wonder that grew on Jane's face as he took the note.
"I'm gonna…" his voice trailed off as he walked toward the stairs, planning to find some privacy before reading.
"Okay, dad. We're gonna read ours down here!" Meghan called to him as he climbed upward slowly, never taking his eyes from the handwriting on the envelope in his hand for more than a second.
While the younger Janes and their families opened their messages, sharing happy memories as they did, Patrick closed his bedroom door and took a deep breath full of the aromatic blend of cinnamon and coffee that still hung in the air there. With great care, he unsealed the envelope and opened the paper inside, struggling with emotion at the thought of hearing her voice again:
"Dearest Jane, Sweetest Patrick, Truest Love,
It breaks my heart that I have to leave you. Though I also believe that we remain forever connected. And while I'm deeply saddened for this temporary separation, I'm also intensely grateful that we've shared so freely what we've meant to each other over the past decades. That you already know the depth of my love for you. That I'm not struggling now with regrets over words unsaid. Still, there are a few things I need you to know, my magical, incorrigible, pure-hearted, breathtaking love.
As I look back on my life, I see it as being clearly divided into two parts: A before and an after. The before was a time of grief and of learning to protect myself and others. The after is when I had the security and support to truly come alive and begin growing into my intended self.
And, my love, the dividing line between those two halves is the day I met you.
I'm more convinced than ever the reason I said 'no' to everyone else, and the reason I backed out on Greg, was because I was meant to wait for another man. The right man. The only man who could make me truly happy. A man who could provide not only deep care for my guarded heart, but also a worthy challenge for the days I craved a healthy game of 'tug-o-war.' The only soul who could so intricately and intrinsically bond with my own.
Looking back I think I was in love with you from the very moment we met. Even as fragile and as messy as you were in that moment, there was something in your eyes that reached into me and held tight. Then, the first time you flashed that ornery grin my way, it was truly game-over, despite any angry words or irritating paperwork that may have followed (I know you're chuckling at that comment right now, and that brings me joy and laughter! Maybe poke yourself in the ribs for me?)
Speaking of paperwork, you know how I secretly love your jokester side. When that paper frog jumped at me after the Wagner case, it was the biggest rush I'd had in recent memory, love. I wouldn't put it past you to play a similar trick at my funeral - I'm rolling with laughter just imagining the scene! I bet you even stuffed an origami note in my pocket before they buried me, didn't you!"
Jane was in tears with laughter and with validation. It was true; she really did know him so well. Truly, they were the perfect match for those years they'd spent together. It didn't make her absence hurt any less, but it did make the love in his heart feel that much stronger… his memories that much more vivid… their story that much truer. God he was so lucky to have had her… to have been so known... so loved… With a warm smile, he re-focused on her words:
"Patrick Jane, your heart has been my home for longer than I can remember. Know that I'm still there. That I'm still with you even though you can't physically see me. You once shared some mysteries with me that you'd been struggling to explain. Lean into those mysteries, and lean into your heart. That's where you'll find me.
Trust that we belong to each other. Trust that we will meet again.
My heart is yours. And our connection is forever. I will always love and adore you, sweet Patrick. I miss you so much already.
Love always,
Teresa"
With his wife's loving words fresh in his mind, and with the supportive reactions of his family validating his plan, Jane began immediately: thinking long and hard about what it would take for a charlatan cheat like himself to get into heaven. He was also thinking long and hard about what it would take to convince himself that his entire worldview on the topic had been faulty.
He had married Angela in a church though; her parents had insisted on it. Despite being carny folk, their roles in the traveling show had all been based on less swindle and more skill: knife throwing and trapeze. As such, the elder Ruskins were quite comfortable with the presence of God. Alex Jane, on the other hand, carried too much guilt in his conscience to feel comfortable with divine judgements; and he carried too much hard luck to feel any affection toward a benevolent God who, if he were so 'all-powerful,' could have surely kept his own tragedies at bay.
Amongst the mental muck of spiritual analyses and remembered tragedies, an unexpected thought suddenly entered Patrick's head: if his own tragedies had been supernaturally averted, he may have never become the man Angela Ruskin had always known he could be. Also, if he had been spared that nightmare of loss and self-torment, he would never have met the love of his later-life, in Teresa Lisbon; and even if he had, he wouldn't have been even close to worthy of her affections had he not taken full stock of his conman lifestyle and changed for the better. Lisbon had always claimed a belief that everything happened for a good reason - even when times were at their worst; maybe his grief had had a purpose after all. He ran a hand from his forehead to his chin, wiping away the mental cobwebs and shoring up his strength before finding Father O'Brien's number to put his plan firmly in motion.