There was another carol, and Riley was thinking the service would soon be over. He was mentally calculating how early he could pretend to be tired and urge Hannah to go up to bed. Since it was barely eight, he figured it would take another hour or so.
"This has been a painful year for our church family," George announced, stepping close to the podium microphone. "A year of change and transition. A year of pain and renewal. There seems no better time than Christmas to honor Jerry Sanders."
Hannah went still beside Riley. Still and rigid. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, but Riley had the impression she would have held on to anyone's hand. Her breathing went shallow, and he was left to wonder at her strange behavior. It took a few moments to understand what was happening, to realize the man his father-in-law had chosen to honor was the Jerry Hannah had been engaged to marry.
Once he'd figured it out, it was all Riley could do to remain in the pew. To be forced to sit and listen to the tribute to Hannah's former fiancé- was like holding Riley's face underwater and asking him to try to breathe.
"Are you all right?" he whispered to Hannah, wishing there was something he could do to spare her this. To spare himself this.
"Are you?" Her gaze – ripe with meaning, ripe with memories – slid to his.
He nodded, taken aback by her question. No man enjoys being trapped into listening to the limitless virtues of the man his wife loved… loved still; but the choice had been taken away from Riley. He tried to relax and let his mind wander.
"I doubt there is a life in this church that Jerry Sanders didn't touch," George continued, his low voice vibrating with grief. "From the time he was in his teens, Jerry felt God's call to the ministry, but he wasn't pious or overly devout. He was a man who loved others and reached out when he saw a need. Once, when Jerry was twelve, he brought a young mother to the church door, explaining that he'd met her outside a gas station. Her husband had abandoned her with a three-month-old child and she had nowhere to turn. Jerry couldn't leave her and do nothing, so he did the only thing he knew how. He brought her to his church."
Hannah's fingers tightened around Riley's. Her features had gone pale, and Riley hedged, debating how much attention they'd garner if he picked her up and carried her out of the church. Too damn much, he decided reluctantly.
"It wasn't only strangers Jerry helped – he touched all our lives," George continued, and stepped away from the podium. One by one, three men and one woman moved forward, sharing incidents that involved Jerry Sanders.
Riley didn't want to listen, didn't want to hear any of this, but he had no choice. Each story revealed the other man's generosity and love in a new light. As the tales were recounted, Riley realized he'd never known anyone as generous or as kindhearted as Jerry Sanders. What George had said earlier about Jerry not being a goody-two-shoes was right. He'd been real, reacting with indignation to the wrongs committed around him, reaching out to help others even when he faced impossible odds. He was the type of man Riley would have liked to count as a friend.
The realization struck a sharp cord within him. It wasn't an easy thing to admit, even to himself.
No wonder Hannah had loved him, and grieved still. Jerry's death had dealt her a crippling blow. How unfair it must have seemed to her. How wrong that Jerry should be taken from her. He glanced over at her and noticed the tears streaking her face. She struggled to hide them, but it did little good.