The Newcomer. Робин Карр

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      “I’ll drive,” Cooper said. “This is a tough day for you.”

      “He’s resting now. The last few years were hard on the old man.”

      “I’m sure. At least he had his son with him.”

      “You ever had a son, Cooper?” Rawley asked.

      Cooper shook his head. “No son, no wife. We’re a lot alike, Rawley. Couple of guys just moving where the wind blows us. Drifters.”

      “Maybe that’s set to change,” Rawley said.

      “Let’s get to the cemetery and say a last goodbye.”

      There was no more talking until Cooper had driven them almost to the cemetery gates. Then Rawley said, “He was a real good father when I was a kid. When I was growing up. He was a better father than I was a son.”

      After a moment of respectful silence Cooper said, “I think maybe a lot of us feel that way about our dads, Rawley.”

      The cemetery appeared to be crowded for a Thursday morning—plenty of cars parked along the winding roadway. And then Cooper saw the Sheriff’s Department SUV and Gina’s old Jeep. And there sat the van from Carrie’s Deli. But Rawley was the one to speak first.

      “What the hell,” he said. “What did you do, Coop?”

      Cooper shook his head and looked for a place to park. “I didn’t say anything. I only told Sarah and Mac, that’s all. And I only told them so they’d know why I wasn’t going to be around this morning.”

      “Well, Jesus,” Rawley said. “Lookit those people. Must be twenty or thirty of ’em. They didn’t know my dad.”

      Cooper pulled along the side of the road and killed the engine. “They’re here for you, Rawley.”

      “They don’t know me, neither.”

      “Sure they do, Rawley. Maybe you don’t chew the fat a lot, but most of those folks see you all the time. You’re one of them. By the way, was there anyone you talked to regularly?”

      Rawley shrugged and made to get out of the big truck. “Ben. Just Ben. Till you came around. Am I gonna have to make conversation with all of them now?”

      “I don’t think they expect that,” Cooper said with a laugh. “If the spirit moves you, you might thank them for the effort.” They walked toward the casket. “It must be a comfort to know Ben will be holding the door open for your dad.”

      The casket was covered with an elaborate spray of white flowers.

      “I didn’t buy no flowers,” Rawley said.

      Cooper said, “I just took care of that one bouquet at the end there. It’ll sit on the grave site after we’re gone.”

      Rawley and Cooper stood on one side of the casket opposite the minister, who could only be identified by the fact that he held a bible. Mac and Gina and the others stood respectfully around the grave and waited for the minister to start the service.

      “Shall we begin? Just a few words before we lay our friend William Goode to his final resting place—William was a kind and patient man. It was about a year ago when he told me he was tired, that he was ready to go, that he had no regrets about his life and hoped that when he met his maker it would be a joyful reunion. His wife departed long ago and he had missed her every day but was confident he’d see her again. And I thought to myself—I hope I face my final days with that peace and tranquility. Bill, as he liked to be called, was difficult to understand since his stroke a year ago, but I asked him if he’d made his peace with God and he nodded and said, ‘My staying any longer is a waste of time and medicine. This is enough.’

      “He wanted one prayer. He wanted to honor our military and chose the veteran’s prayer. He was very clear—no elaborate fuss—just a prayer to ‘launch him’ as he put it. He said a toast now and again wouldn’t offend him. William Goode is right with God and on his way home. Here’s to you, William Goode.

      “And William wanted a poem written by a soldier to be read at his burial. This poem—‘Final Inspection’—was written by Sergeant Joshua Helterbran.

      The soldier stood and faced God

      Which must always come to pass

      He hoped his shoes were shining

      Just as brightly as his brass.

      Step forward now, you soldier,

      How shall I deal with you?

      Have you always turned the other cheek?

      To My Church have you been true?

      The soldier squared his shoulders and said,

      No, Lord, I guess I ain’t

      Because those of us who carry guns

      Can’t always be a saint.

      I’ve had to work most Sundays

      And at times my talk was tough,

      And sometimes I’ve been violent,

      Because the world is awfully rough.

      But, I never took a penny

      That wasn’t mine to keep...

      Though I worked a lot of overtime

      When the bills got just too steep,

      And I never passed a cry for help,

      Though at times I shook with fear,

      And sometimes, God forgive me,

      I’ve wept unmanly tears.

      I know I don’t deserve a place

      Among the people here,

      They never wanted me around

      Except to calm their fears.

      If you’ve a place for me here, Lord,

      It needn’t be so grand,

      I never expected or had too much,

      But if you don’t, I’ll understand.

      There was a silence all around the throne

      Where the saints had often trod

      As the soldier waited quietly,

      For the judgment of his God,

      Step forward now, you soldier,

      You’ve СКАЧАТЬ