Page 27 of Never Forget
I stayed where I was. I wasn't ready to leave him yet.
Sam appeared beside me after a while. I didn't hear him approach, just became aware of his presence like a shift in the air. He didn't say anything. He just stood there, shoulder almost touching mine, looking down at the grave.
Mark had drifted toward the parking lot a few minutes earlier to take a work call he couldn't ignore. Amber had excused herself to use the restroom.
So it was just the two of us. And Jack.
"Your speech was beautiful," I said after a while.
Sam shook his head. "I didn't know what to say. He deserved better than anything I could give him."
"He would have hated anything too polished. You know that."
Sam almost smiled. The expression flickered across his face and disappeared before it could take hold. "Yeah. He would have."
We stood there in silence. The wind picked up, scattering a few dead leaves across the grass. I pulled my coat tighter around myself.
"Amber seems great," I said, because I needed to say something normal.
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
He didn't elaborate. He didn't say "she is" or "thanks" or anything that sounded like a man talking about a woman he loved. I noticed but didn't think too much of it. After all, it was none of my business.
"Jamie."
Sam's voice had changed. I looked up and found him staring past my shoulder at something behind me.
I turned.
A woman was making her way toward us across the grass. She looked to be in her late thirties, with dark hair and the hollowed-out look of someone who hadn't slept in weeks. A teenage boy walked beside her, tall and watchful, carrying weight too heavy for his years. On her other side, a little girl clutched her hand, maybe eight years old with dark hair like her mother's.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. Her voice was rough at the edges. "I'm Jenna Weston. This is my daughter Quinn, and my nephew Cole. Your brother saved us from the fire a few weeks ago."
The world tilted.
"Quinn and me." She looked down at the little girl, then back at me. "We're here because of him."
This was her. The woman Jack had carried out of the burning building. The child he had gone back for. The reason he had defied orders and walked through flames, inhaling smoke that destroyed his lungs.
"I wanted to come," Jenna continued. "To pay my respects. And to tell his family..." She stopped. Tried to compose herself. "I don't know how to repay something like that. I don't think I ever can. But if there's ever anything I can do for you. Anything at all. Please."
Jenna reached into her purse and pulled out a card. She pressed it into my hand.
"My number," she said. "I mean it. Anything you need. Ever."
I looked down at the card. Jenna Weston, RN. Havensworth General Hospital.
I couldn't speak. My throat had closed completely, so I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
She made a sound against my shoulder, something between a gasp and a sob, and her arms came around me and held on. We stood there for a long moment, two women bound by the same man. The one he saved. The one who lost him.
When we pulled apart, both of us were crying.
"Thank you for coming," I managed. "It would have meant everything to him."
Jenna squeezed my hand one more time. Then she gathered Quinn close and turned to leave.
The boy, Cole, hung back for half a second. His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. There was something in them I couldn't quite name. Grief, maybe. Or gratitude. Or the particular weight of someone who had watched his family nearlydie and was still trying to make sense of a world where that could happen.
