The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,71

Trevor’s face was strained, as if he were trying desperately not to cry, but Will’s face was calm and dispassionate.

Annabelle watched as the group of six men carried the casket down the aisle and set it down in front of the altar. They silently turned away, taking their seats in the front row.

The pastor gave a wonderful sermon about Mrs. Scarlett’s life and assured them that she had gone to a better place. Several people got up to speak about Mrs. Scarlett, including Trevor, who became so choked up he almost couldn’t continue. Annabelle’s heart ached for him as he forced himself to go on, half the church crying with him. By the end of his speech, Mr. Scarlett had his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. Will just continued to stare at the ground, as if he were in another world.

When the ceremony was over, Annabelle’s parents pulled her to leave. She resisted, searching for Will through the crowded room. At the very least, she wanted to catch his eye before she left.

She finally spotted him near the front, where the family was escorting the casket out of the church—to be buried, she guessed. She hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t follow, and yet, even as she watched, Claire, Claudia, Zach, and some others followed through the doorway.

She turned to her parents. “I have to go,” she told them, half-desperately, half-apologetically. Her mother’s tender eyes were all the approval she needed before she broke through the upward stream of people, chasing after the small cluster of mourners headed to the burial plot.

She forced herself to slow down to avoid drawing attention to herself as she approached. The group had stopped walking in front of a plot facing a stream, a large tree hanging above it. Annabelle smiled slightly at the sight of the beautiful area, sure that Mrs. Scarlett would be pleased to be laid to rest in such a nice place.

Will stood at the front, to the left of his father. She slowly stepped around the crowd, nodding at Claire when the blond girl caught her eye. Claire’s eyes flickered with confusion, and then settled on another emotion, one Annabelle could barely recognize. It was almost…

Almost akin to admiration.

Will didn’t acknowledge her as she joined his side, his eyes fastened on the coffin in front of them. She held her hands clasped together in front of her to keep from reaching out to him, trying to feed him strength just with her presence. It was all she could do for him—to be at his side when he needed someone.

The pastor said a few words, and then it was over. Mr. Scarlett and Trevor both cried heavy, heartbroken tears, but Will, as dispassionate as ever, merely stood there staring emptily at the grave.

Slowly, knowing it was the worst possible time, Annabelle reached out and took his hand.

Almost as though a spell had been broken, his eyes fell closed and his chest exhaled. Then he turned and looked at her with dark, pained eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said softly.

He cast one last look at the grave before nodding. She led the way, holding his hand, acutely aware of the stares following them. She didn’t turn back. This wasn’t about her, and it wasn’t about them. It was about Will. She wished she could have talked to Trevor before so publicly walking off with his brother, but he would be okay. He had a group of people around him to support him. Will was the one who needed someone to be there for him.

Will didn’t release her hand until he had unlocked the passenger door to his car and she was climbing in. She reached across his seat to open his door for him, watching as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He stuck the key in the ignition and they were off, leaving the church and the cemetery behind.

He didn’t appear to have a destination as he drove, tugging at his tie to loosen it around his neck and undoing the top few buttons. He slid out of his jacket and tossed it in the backseat, never taking his eyes off of the road. As she stared at him, she realized he was driving differently than normal. He was too focused on the road… too intent.

Will was trying not to cry.

He stopped the car in the forest, at a location she could never forget. She followed him out of the car, taking his hand as they walked up to the overlook.