Scarlett smiled at her. ‘Thank you, but Zat and BB have been outside all afternoon. If they got a bone, they buried it out back.’ Both dogs had been Marcus’s shadow today, rarely straying more than a few feet away. Scarlett kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ve never done an open house after a funeral before. You made this one they’ll all remember.’

They’d laid Cal to rest that afternoon and the mood had been somber. Until her mother started to mingle, asking everyone for their favorite memory of Cal. Soon enough, all of Cal’s friends were laughing. Some tears, too, but a lot of laughter.

‘It’s a skill I’ve picked up over the years,’ her mother said, then sighed. ‘Unfortunately.’

Because her father and brothers had been to more than their share of funerals too. It was part of being a cop. Or a cop’s wife.

‘I’m going home now, Scarlett,’ she said, patting her daughter’s cheek, then looked over her shoulder to where Marcus sat on the back deck, all alone now. ‘Take care of him.’

Like she’d seen her mother care for her father all her life. ‘I will.’

Locking the front door behind her mom, Scarlett went abruptly still. Music was coming from the deck. Marcus was playing his guitar. She hadn’t heard him play in person – only on the tapes he’d made in the park.

He’d sung the Vince Gill ballad for Cal this afternoon as everyone had gathered at the man’s graveside. Scarlett had been expecting Marcus to sing, so she was prepared emotionally. What she hadn’t expected was the sweetness of Audrey’s voice as she’d sung backup in perfect harmony, holding on tight to Marcus’s hand. Brother and sister had sung a cappella and not an eye was left dry – except Marcus’s own.

Quietly Scarlett joined him on the deck, sitting next to him on the porch swing she’d rescued from a yard sale. From here they had an amazing view of the river. He gave her a quick glance from the corner of his eye and started to put the guitar away, but she stopped him.

‘No, I want to hear it. What were you playing?’

He rested his arm atop the guitar’s curved side, then propped his chin on his arm. ‘That was nice. What your mother did today. Reminding us of why we loved Cal so much.’

He hadn’t answered her question, but she let it go. ‘I know. Mom’s good at that.’

He bent his mouth into a half-frown. ‘Cal hated “Go Rest High”. Always made him cry.’

Scarlett had been sitting between Marcus and Diesel on the front row of folding chairs at the graveside, and when Marcus had begun to sing, Diesel had lost it. The big man’s shoulders had shaken as he’d sobbed his heart out. Scarlett had ended up patting his back through the song and letting him cry on her shoulder.

Marcus hadn’t shed a tear until he’d returned to sit next to her, and even then he hadn’t made a sound. He’d bowed his head, his shoulders heaving as he’d silently grieved. Scarlett had rubbed his back too, through the dark suit he’d worn.

That he still wore. He hadn’t changed after coming back to her house after the graveside service. He still wore the tie, too, although he’d tugged it away from his collar.

Abruptly he thumped his thumb against the guitar’s glossy face, his expression annoyed. ‘I shouldn’t have sung it. I should have sung what Cal liked.’

Scarlett rubbed his back in slow, large circles, just as she’d done at the service. ‘I think it helped the attendees,’ she murmured. ‘It’s one of those expected things. Helps people have closure. Funerals are for those we leave behind anyway.’ He shrugged, saying nothing. Feeling like she’d answered the test question incorrectly, she scooted closer to him on the swing, sending them rocking. ‘What was Cal’s favorite song?’

His lips didn’t smile. ‘“What a Wonderful World”,’ he murmured, and then she recognized the song he’d been strumming. ‘I thought of singing it, but it’s not a wonderful world. I didn’t want to be disrespectful to the families of those we lost in the shooting. For them it won’t be a wonderful world for a long, long time. But did I disrespect Cal?’

‘I think Cal loved you, Marcus, so much that a little thing like that wouldn’t have bothered him at all. You might be right, though, that the other families would have been hurt. My grandpa used to say that if you were in doubt on something like that, don’t do it. It’s not worth the cost. But you could sing it right now. For him. And for me.’

‘All right.’ He began to pick the tune, and she realized that she was holding her breath, waiting for him to sing. His voice was the opposite of Louis Armstrong’s – smooth where Louis had been growly and gruff – but he made the song just as beautiful.

When he’d finished singing and his guitar had grown quiet, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him with all the sweetness she could muster. Quickly he took over the kiss, blindly setting the instrument in its stand so that he could pull her onto his lap. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.

‘I needed that,’ he whispered.

‘So did I.’

A slow grin spread over his face when he lifted his eyes to the yard next door. ‘We have company.’

Mrs Pepper stood on her side of the fence, a look of rapture on her face. She recovered when she saw them looking at her, giving them a little wave. ‘I baked you cookies, Marcus,’ she called. ‘I’ll leave them on my front porch. You come get them whenever you like.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Pepper,’ he called back, smiling when she scurried back into her house. ‘She’s going to make me fat with those cookies.’

‘Nah. I plan to work you hard, painting and fixing stuff. Then I plan to play hard.’ She tapped his lips with her finger. ‘And no middle school “hard” jokes. You’re worse than Stone and Diesel.’

‘Who do you think taught Stone everything he knows? Diesel, he came warped.’

She chuckled, content to sit on his lap while he lazily rocked the swing with one foot. ‘I always thought it was “dogs say goodnight”. The song, I mean. I thought old Louis was singing “bright blessed day, the dogs say goodnight”,’ not “dark sacred night”.’

He laughed out loud for the first time that day, and her heart smiled. ‘I kind of like dogs saying goodnight better,’ he said, then rocked her for a little while as they watched the sky turn rosy.

‘It was nice to see Tabby Anders this afternoon,’ Scarlett said. ‘She came with Annabelle Church. Tabby’s gone to live with her. So have the Bautistas, at least until they get on their feet. Their application for the visa to stay here in the country is going well at this point.’

‘I know. They talked to me too today. I know Phillip wished he could be there. Edgar, too.’

‘I’m just glad they’re both going to be all right,’ she said fervently. ‘Oh, and I saw Kate.’

‘I saw her, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. Did you?’

‘I did. Agent Davenport woke up this morning. Hopefully they’ll take him off the ventilator so that he can talk to her. The doctors are saying he’ll make a full recovery.’

‘That’s very good news,’ Marcus said, relieved.

Yes, it was, because Sweeney’s son Sean hadn’t made it. He’d died of his injuries two days after trying to take over his father’s business. Scarlett only hoped his pain had been unbearable. But speaking his name aloud seemed wrong at the moment, when they were trying to think of all the lovely things that made the world wonderful.

‘Did you see that couple that came up to me after the graveside service?’ Marcus asked after another few minutes of silence.

‘Which one? The cemetery was super-crowded.’

‘The woman who looked like she was twelve months’ pregnant.’

‘Oh, right. I did see her. Why? Who were they?’

‘She was one of the women we helped escape her abusive husband four years ago. She’s made a life for herself and her kids. Finished her degree. The man she was with is her new husband of about a year. The baby is due in a few weeks. She said she was having a boy and asked if it would be okay if they named him after Cal.’