the call room, he wrung his hands, wondering when he was going to learn.
The last time they were together, about a year and a half ago, he’d let her walk out of his life. Consumed by the fellowship in emergency medicine he was doing, he didn’t want to think of her, and if he did, it was painful, but he didn’t dwell on it.
By the following Christmas, her picture had frequently popped up on the arm of rock musician Kenny Rider. Arvin called attention to it.
“Your girl is with that hot singer,” he said, pointing to a photo of the couple in People magazine. “I knew she’d make it big.”
“Arvin, she’s dating a rocker. It’s not like she’s the famous one.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I am not. Give that thing to me.”
He grabbed the magazine out of Arvin’s hand and looked at the picture. “She doesn’t even look like herself. What’s with the hair?” He pointed to her blond hair.
“I like it. It’s something different,” Arvin said, looking over Dylan’s shoulder at the photos. “It’s red on the next page.”
“I hope they’ll be very happy.”
The words he’d growled at Landon in the ER cycled through his head over again, You can’t stay here. What was it about her that riled him up like that? Even not recognizing her right away, there was something about Landon’s presence that was intimidating. It made him want to show her who was boss, either by ignoring her or being rude.
The next morning, he rifled through the paper, looking at obituaries, and there it was. Heart sinking, it made it all the more real.
Kenny Rider, singer, composer and arranger best known for a long association with his band, Lonesome Blues, died on Thursday in Philadelphia. He was 32.
His death was announced by guitarist Aubrey Clarkston, saying only that he died from a gunshot wound.
“Doctors couldn’t save the world-famous vocalist after the senseless shooting by a deranged fan.”
Dylan had been the one who was unable to save Kenneth Rider’s life. The incident afterward with Landon shook him to the core. All the cliches rang true: it was an eye-opener, a game changer, a turning point. The time to change was now.
Rider is survived by his parents, Kirk and Betty Rider, his brother John, and fiancée, Landon Fontenot.
So they were engaged. The funeral was slated for Saturday, with the burial in Chestnut Hill. They certainly weren’t wasting any time getting him into the ground. Making the decision, Dylan was going to go.
***
Saturday morning dawned cold and rainy. Waking up at sunrise after tossing and turning most of the night, Landon wished she didn’t have to go to the funeral. She’d made it an act of her will to stay at the Riders’ Friday until late. Mourners called continuously through the day, bringing food and flowers, expressing their sympathy. There wouldn’t be a viewing due to the nature of his injuries. The Riders wanted him buried as soon as possible, their religious belief suggesting it was best for the departed.
Relief washed over Landon when she heard it was closed casket, who saw his face, eyes open, left side down on the white linen tablecloth as the circle of blood grew larger. The wound had been on the left side, out of sight, but it was still shocking. She didn’t want photos of him like that to circulate, so she had quickly removed her sweater and wrapped it around his head and shoulders. Holding him in her arms, shielding him, whispering.
Speaking to sympathizers had not helped. She watched Betty with concern as she busied herself putting out the food people had brought.
“Betty, let me help.”
“I don’t know what to do with all this stuff. Look, two pans of lasagna.”
“I’ll put some of it in the freezer. You still have to get through the weekend. You might be swamped with visitors again.”
“I hope not. I want to take a nap so bad.”
“Me too. Let’s lock the door and go lie down in Kenny’s old room.”
Betty hugged her, weeping a little bit. “Thank you so much for staying with us. I know you’d rather be with your friends.”
“My friends are all here,” she said and then whispered, “They’re the ones who came empty-handed.”
She laughed and got Betty to finally laugh. “Someone brought wieners and sauerkraut.”
“Oh god, no way.”
They were comforted and amused by the food.
Kirk had decided they’d go to a restaurant after the burial instead of having people back to the house again. It was too much work for his wife. He wanted