Free Just Down the Road by Jodi Thomas Page A

checked with Tyler about the details of the funeral.
    “No,” Tyler said honestly, “but I thought he’d like them.”
    “He wouldn’t,” she answered, knowing he’d say they were a waste of money. “But I do. Thank you for thinking of them.”
    Tyler smiled. “It will be sunrise in a few minutes. I have chairs next to the grave.”
    He walked around and opened her car door while Reagan tried as hard as she could to convince herself that she could get through this. When the door opened, it was not Mr. Wright, but Brandon Biggs who offered his help. Big stuck out his huge hand and waited for her.
    Reagan looked behind her and saw people all around emerging from their cars in the gray dawn. Then she looked at Big. He always seemed to know when she needed a friend.
    “I thought you might need a hand,” he said as they began to walk up the hill.
    “Thanks,” she managed as she moved closer to the casket sitting above where the grave had been dug. “Don’t let me do something dumb.”
    “I’m right here, Rea. I’ve got your back.” He held her arm as she sat down in one of the chairs, then moved behind her.
    As light spread over the land, people covered the hill. Pat Matheson, as she had promised, sat at her left, andother old men and women took the remaining chairs. Most were either Mathesons or McAllens. The three families had started together on this land, and they seemed to band together when they buried one of their own.
    A preacher Reagan had never seen gave a simple service as the sun rose, warming the air a few degrees. She looked out over the cemetery. There were people everywhere. Some standing in family groups, some alone, all facing the hill. Jeremiah Truman, a man who lived alone and liked it that way, had a world of people he’d touched.
    When the last prayer was finished, Reagan stood and waited as one by one the people passed to touch the casket, to say their good-bye to Jeremiah, to hug her.
    Two aging veterans folded a flag that had been draped over the casket. They started to hand it to Reagan, but she indicated that it belonged to Pat Matheson. The old men agreed. Everyone in town knew that Pat Matheson and Jeremiah Truman might have been married if not for the war.
    Reagan thought of what Noah had said about hugging and knew that the people passing needed to give a hug more than she needed to receive one. An hour passed before Big walked her back to the funeral home’s family car.
    “Mr. Wright, would it be all right if Big took me home? I don’t want to put you out.”
    “It’s no trouble,” Tyler said.
    Big nodded at the man. “I’d like to take her home if it’s not breaking any rules.”
    “Of course,” Tyler said, understanding.
    Reagan climbed into Big’s pickup and cuddled close to his big frame for warmth. The morning felt suddenly cold to her.
    He started the truck and pulled slowly away.
    She didn’t look back at the grave. She couldn’t yet. Someday, maybe in a few weeks or months, she’d bring flowers and sit beside it for a while, but not now, not today.
    Big didn’t turn out toward Lone Oak Road but drove onto the highway. For a long while they just drove. Reagan didn’treally care where they were going. After the weeks in the hospital and months before that when she’d been afraid to leave the house for more than a few minutes, just driving felt great.
    When he finally stopped for lunch at a truck stop that seemed miles from anywhere, Reagan realized how hungry she was. They ate huge hamburgers and malts while they made up stories about the other people in the place. When the manager announced that there was now a shower available for Ichy, Reagan laughed until she cried … and then simply kept crying.
    Big didn’t say a word. He paid the bill and began the long drive back to Harmony. It was late afternoon when he dropped her off at the farm.
    “In the morning, I got to go over to Armstrong County and work with a crew there. It may be a week before the