I spent much of the next day in bed.

Logan texted and knocked on my door every few hours. I accepted a coffee and a pastry from him and made some small talk before feigning a headache, then he left me alone.

He didn't fight me. And I didn't want him to.

I curled up in the bed, tears escaping from my eyes on and off throughout the day.

My parents told me to be happy.

But I didn't know how.

I didn't have the slightest clue.

Or the energy to even try.

- - -

The next day, Beth came over to the inn to help me get ready.

I watched in a daze, listening as if I were underwater. The words barely made sense, but I knew I wasn't alone. She chattered non-stop about how charming Logan was and the town tour she gave him.

I watched every stroke of the brush in her hands as it passed through my hair. Strands would cling to the bristles and fall away effortlessly.

The world was going on without them. And me.

"There, just get dressed and I'll drive you and Logan there!" She set the brush down and squeezed my shoulders in front of the mirror. "Don't forget your ring!" She reminded with a wistful smile. I wondered if she was transported back to the memory of her own engagement as I nodded.

After she slipped out of the room, I pulled out the conservatively sleeved black dress I had packed for the funeral. I often wore it to court with a gray blazer. It was comfortable and classy.

Truthfully, I felt like whatever I wore, I would feel exposed, naked. Nevertheless, I pulled it on.

I toyed with the ring I pulled out of the box before a knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Grace? Are you ready? Beth is out front." Logan's pleading voice slipped through the wood of the door.

"Yes," I responded while twisting the band on my ring finger.

I opened the door and met him in an embrace I didn't want but didn't struggle against.

"Let's go," he whispered and snaked his arm around my waist.

- - -

Mother Nature decided to surprise all of us with a sunny day. Beth reached over to hand me a spare pair of sunglasses and I nodded in thanks as we parked in the gravel lot of the church.

We took our time getting out of her Chevy Suburban and I grabbed hold of her and Logan with each arm, wobbling on my black heels through the gravel to the back of the churchyard.

A worn wooden arch was covered in sprawling vines, the mountain looming far off in the distance. Several rows of chairs had been set out on the lawn. A few steps before the arch were two glossy dark wood caskets with framed photos of my parents.

Due to the extent of the accident, I knew it would be closed casket. But it still didn't lessen the shock at the sight.

"Here, there are some chairs for us to sit and receive condolences..." Beth explained before she and Logan steered me to a few chairs with velvet cushions to the right of my father's casket.

It felt like they carried me. Maybe my legs stopped working.

"Beth... I can't do this..." I panicked, gasping for breath.

"Yes, you can," Logan urged, him and Beth tightening their grips on me.

"You are the strongest woman we know," Beth cheered me on softly.

What a big, fat lie.

I wasn't strong. I was stubborn.

They helped me settle into a chair and I felt the sun beat down on the dark fabric of my dress.

"Can you go tell Father Williams we're here?" Beth ordered Logan and he took off back towards the front of the church. She sighed and squatted down in front of me.

"What am I doing here?" I wondered aloud in a pained whisper.

"You are here to say goodbye to your mom and dad," she started soothingly as if she were talking to her own daughter. "It won't be perfect. But you're here. That's what matters."

I nodded, trying to hold back tears.

"You can grieve. We all will be grieving with you."

"Beth..." I started to sob and she took my hands.

"Shh, you'll be ok. And you don't have to say anything." She paused to take a breath. "Charles took care of everything according to their wishes."

I knew she was right. My father used to joke about how organized their wedding was. Of course, my mother would leave nothing to chance for their funeral.

"When Logan comes back, I'm going to grab a box of tissues from my car, ok?" She stroked my hair with her right hand and patted my hands with her left.

When Logan came back, she went to retrieve the tissues, as promised. I let the atmosphere wash over me, watching people I hadn't seen in years filter into the yard and grasp my hands with sorrow in their eyes before taking their seats.

I took a break to turn my head and wipe the tears behind the sunglasses before returning to face the next mourner.

"Paul?" His name tumbled out of my lips and Logan sat up at attention.

"Hi." I could have sworn I heard him whisper "princess".

He was dressed in a crisp black suit, a stark difference from the last time I saw him. His grey eyes held a different kind of emotion from everyone I'd seen up until now. There was solemn respect. It was sad but grateful. Hinging on hopeful.

"You are?" Logan tried to clarify while taking my hand.

"Paul Gosch. Doc Steve helped me when I had a bad shoulder injury from football in high school." He addressed Logan's question while studying the caskets in front of him. "I struggled with it for several years. He was always there for me."

Logan seemed satisfied with his answer and offered to shake his hand. "Thank you for coming today."

Paul took his hand, then chuckled and brought his gaze to me. "My old man would've killed me if I didn't come. He wanted to be here, but with his COPD..." He trailed off and stepped back. "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm always around."

"Thank you," I barely called after him.

He nodded before stopping for a moment at each of my parents, bowing his head and setting a hand on the lid, one after the other.

Seeing his respect and love for them lit a small fire in my heart. It was maybe the size of a flickering match blowing in the wind. But I would take any warmth right now.

I never remembered hearing about Paul growing up. But I knew neither of my parents forgot a patient.

I listened to Logan continue to greet people beside me.

I could have sworn my mind was playing tricks on me...

Because after a while, I imagined everything he said in Paul's voice.