The chapel on post filled quickly. People I recognized and countless soldiers I didn’t took their seats in hushed tones. We’d asked for this to serve as the unit’s memorial, too. I didn’t think any of us could have gone through this a second time. April sat surrounded by a gaggle of her friends, being comforted en masse as she cried, and a small stab of jealousy sliced through me. April was allowed to fall apart. That was a luxury I didn’t get to have, not anymore.

“Oh, Ember.” Sam, my best friend from high school, pulled me in for a hug at the back of the chapel while I waited for Gus. I sagged a little against her, willing to let her take some of the weight. “This sucks.”

She always knew just what to say.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, speaking honestly for the first time today.

“Where’s Riley?” The perfect café au lait skin of her forehead puckered as her eyebrows drew together.

I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Not sure, but he said he’s coming.”

Her furrows deepened, and I saw a flash run through her hazel eyes before she sighed. “Kayla? She’s still your roommate, right?”

“She’s in Boston with her parents, but she’s flying back to Boulder in the next few days.” I held my breath and waited for the typical sarcastic quip to come from Sam. There was no love lost between Kayla and Sam, and hadn’t been since Sam and I had grown apart last year. I’d gone off to Boulder and become roomies with Kayla, and Sam stayed to go to school here in Colorado Springs. I still loved the heck out of Sam, but it was hard to keep a friendship with such separate lives.

“Right.” Organ music started to play, and Sam squeezed my hands. “That’s my cue. Ember, whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I know you are.”

She gave me a weak smile and headed to sit with her mom, who’d been a really good friend of Dad’s. I guess that’s what happens when you spend years and two duty stations with someone.

“Ember?” I turned to see Mrs. Rose, whose husband had been killed in the attack with Dad. She looked put together in a simple black sheath and matching heels. Her hair was done, makeup perfect and unsmeared. Her two little boys, Carson and Lewis, were immaculately dressed in little black suits.

“Hi, Mrs. Rose. We’re glad you came,” I answered for my family. “How are you?”

Her hands grazed the shoulders of her boys, like she was assuring herself they were still there. “We’re getting by. Your mother?”

My face flushed. “She’s having a hard time.”

Mrs. Rose nodded. “We all grieve in different ways. She’ll come around.” She smiled at her boys. “Let’s find our seats.”

They headed down the aisle, and something dark stole into me, raising my temperature. How could she be okay? How was she so perfectly poised when my mother couldn’t hold it together? The unfairness of everything weighed on me. I wanted Mom to pull herself together like Mrs. Rose had.

My cell phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message.

Riley: On my way, but running late.

Ember: See you soon.

I slid my iPhone back into my purse as Gus emerged from the bathroom. His suit made him appear older than he really was, another thief stealing his childhood away. He fumbled with the long ends of his tie, which must’ve come undone while he was in there. Gus only had two ties, both of which my dad had tied before he left for deployment. The knots would slide up and down as we took them on and off Gus’s head for church, but we were always careful not to untie them. None of us girls in the house knew how to tie a tie. We’d never given it much thought.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” His eyes welled up with tears, siphoning my own. I forced a smile to my face, which became just a little easier each time I had to do it.

“It’s not a problem, little buddy.” I gently wiped away his tears and fixed my concentration on figuring out his tie. A wave of grief overtook me. This was Dad’s job. He was supposed to teach Gus how to tie a tie, drive a car, flirt with a girl. How was Gus going to grow up without Dad’s example? Sure, my father would never walk me down the aisle, never hold my firstborn child, or the second, for that matter. But I’d had him for twenty years while I had grown to quasi-womanhood. Dad was etched into the very fabric of my being. It wasn’t fair that his son only got him for seven years.

My fingers fumbled with the tie, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work. A pair of large hands reached in between us, and I looked over. Shock almost knocked me on my butt at seeing Josh Walker crouched next to me. A sad smile came to his face.

“Hey, Gus, can I get that for you?”

“Hey, Coach Walker. Sure.”

Coach? Right, Gus had told me, but I hadn’t put it together. The Josh Walker I remembered wouldn’t take the time to coach anyone, let alone a hyper group of kids. What had changed him so much in four years?

Gus turned his beautiful smile on me, and I almost hugged Josh for inspiring it. “Ember, this is my hockey coach.”

“We’ve met, Gus.” I ruffled his hair and stood up slowly, careful to keep my balance on my heels.

“I went to high school with your sister, little man.” Josh made quick work of Gus’s tie, deftly looping it around, pulling it through until it resembled my dad’s own knot. A surge of gratitude ripped through me. Josh had saved Gus’s day.

We took our seats when the chaplain directed. Gus sat next to me, then Mom, Grams, and April. One by one, the speakers came up, giving their best memories of Dad. He had saved so many lives, given so much of himself to those who needed it. He had never failed to inspire me. Well, inspire me in everything but his death. He’d been killed senselessly, helping other people. What was the point, the justice in that? Hysterical laughter bubbled up through my lips, and Grams reached her hand around Mom to steady my shoulder. What, like I was going to figure out the meaning of death and life while sitting here? Preposterous. No one understood the meaning behind war. It was hilarious to think the answer would be bestowed upon me simply because I lost someone I loved. My psych professor would have had a field day with me at that moment.