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plain blue jeans, and brown work boots bumped the front row of chairs. A store tag still dangled from his left sleeve. Dark rings lined his eyes, and a few days of beard shaded the lower parts of his face. He didn’t approach the casket, or even look at it, keeping his gaze down as he drifted closer. When he made eye contact with Riley, it lasted all of two seconds, and he seemed almost afraid of her. She squeezed the little purse in her lap as he lowered himself into the seat beside her. An instinctual urge to lean away from him gripped her. Something about him seemed… not quite right. Riley peered over her shoulder, searching for Mina with a ‘help me’ stare.
    The man looked at Mother with an expression more tired than grieving. Riley gave up hunting for Mina in the crowd and faced forward.
    Who is this dude? Oh, this must be that homeless guy Mom bought lunch for.
    She sat stiff as a board, trying to ignore him and force life back into Mother with her eyes.
    “You sure got big, Squirrel.”
    No one’s called me that since…
Her head popped up, mouth agape. “D-Dad?”
    He looked nervous as anything, and fidgeted while studying his boots. “I’m sorry it took something like this to… for me to…”
    “You look like hell.”
    A weak smile flickered across his lips, dying to a flat line after three seconds. “Been driving three days… didn’t sleep a whole lot.”
    “Oh.”
He’s so different.
She picked at her purse. “Thanks for coming for me.”
    He reached out to hold her hand; she leaned back without conscious thought. Dad looked down. “Sorry. Suppose you’re pretty mad at me.”
    “I guess. When I was like nine. I…” She forced herself to ignore the uneasy feeling she got from him and grasped his hand, finding his skin calloused and dry. “Sorry. I’m―”
    “Upset.” He squeezed her fingers. “That Lewis woman told me to expect you’ll need some adjustment time. I’m not supposed to take anything personally.”
    “Feels like I don’t know you anymore.”
    “I work a lot. Sometimes, I forget to eat.” Dad glanced at the coffin. “She looks so natural.”
    Riley clenched her jaw, grumbling. “No, she doesn’t. She looks like they stole her from a wax museum. They got the hair all wrong.”
    “Lily used to wear it down like that when you were small, before she got that job with the bank. Didn’t have the time to take care of it after that.”
    “Are you really here?” She stared at him, lip quivering and eyes full of water. “Y-you really want me?”
    “Yes, Riley.” He squeezed her hand. “Not a day went by I didn’t think of you.”
    “Why’d you leave?”
    “Mr. McCullough?” A dark-skinned man in a black suit with a red satin shirt walked over with one eyebrow lifted.
    “Yes,” said Dad. “I am.”
    They shook hands.
    “I’m Victor Samuels, with Samuels Funeral Home. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    “Thanks,” said Dad.
    “Miss.” Victor bowed to Riley and shifted his attention back to Dad. “I am to understand that in accordance with your wife’s wishes, there will be no mass?”
    “That sounds like Lily. I just got here… I… haven’t had time to review any documents.”
    “That’s fine, sir. With your permission, I’ll say a few short words and we can be on our way to her final resting place.”
    Riley broke down at the word ‘final,’ sobbing into her hands. The purse slid out of her lap and plopped to the floor, but she didn’t care. Dad’s arm settled around her shoulders and pulled her close. She hadn’t seen him in six years. He cradled her to his chest; his scent filled her breath, bringing back old memories. As different as he looked, he still smelled like Dad.
    Victor Samuels became a blurry smear in the corner of her vision. He drifted to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Excuse me everyone.”
    Within the hour, her
mother
would be left in a hole in the ground, never to be seen again. She didn’t care about what