When Rain Falls by Tyora M. Moody

quivered. At last, his determination to remain strong for his mother was lost in the finality of the scene before them. Candace felt guilty about her children having to experience these tragedies. For the past few days, she had longed for comfort but had found none for herself. Only questions. No answers.
    She put her arms around the back of Daniel’s chair, careful not to touch him, knowing he was embarrassed by his tears. That’s what mothers do. They comfort their children. In some small way, she found peace in comforting her son, no longer her baby boy, well, at least not physically.
    Reverend Freeman’s voice droned. “This is not good-bye.”
    Candace watched the minister wipe his forehead with a handkerchief, and then she stared past him at the hundreds of headstones surrounding them. The sun should’ve been shining; instead smoky gray clouds swirled across the bland bluish sky.
    She glanced around, making eye contact with Frank’s old partner, Brunson. The craggy old man stood on the outside of the tent. He passed her a subtle smile. She missed ole Brunson. His brusque sense of humor didn’t make people feel warm and fuzzy, but he did manage to lighten up dark situations. A dull pain started to vibrate behind her temples. It was hard not to think of Frank.
    Brunson’s new partner stood next to him. Detective Jackson looked more like a GQ model than a cop, dressed in a sharp black suit. Candace wondered if the detectives were paying their respects or were here for the suspect. She wanted to question the detective about his conversation with Mitch. The investigation had taken a backseat for her as she tried her best to support Desiree, who withdrew day by day. Even Judge Coleman had lost all his boisterousness.
    She blinked and then gazed at the handsome detective again. Pamela would have really liked him. He would’ve matched her friend’s height right on.
    A man’s face appeared in her line of vision, over Detective Jackson’s left shoulder. He seemed to be staring back at her. There was something familiar about his face, but she couldn’t place him. She remained transfixed on his face, trying to recall where she had seen him before. Without warning, the man’s mouth curved into a rather crooked smile.
    A surge of dread ran through her body. Who was he? she asked herself.
    The detective moved, blocking her view of the man. Now she found herself staring at the detective. As her heart rate slowed, she was grateful for the change of scenery. Detective Jackson had a striking face, owing to his angular jawline, the goatee, and his eyes. From where she sat, she could tell he had lashes most women spent a fortune on mascara trying to create.
    Candace slid her eyes back to Reverend Freeman. She had to catch herself. For some reason she wanted to compare the detective to her Frank.
    Was this the beginning of her losing her mind?
    Frank. Pamela. Her world had shifted in a direction where she no longer had two people she held dear to her heart. It was cruel and unfair.
    Reverend Freeman’s baritone voice broke through her thoughts again. She tried to focus her tear-brimmed eyes on the man’s solemn face. “The Coleman family would like to extend a heartfelt thank-you to all who have gathered here today, during their time of bereavement. We want to leave these last few moments for family and close friends. Please join the family at the Victory Gospel Community Center.”
    No sooner than Reverend Freeman concluded the funeral than, like ants at a picnic, folks dispersed from under the Freeman Funeral Home tent. A slight wind gust sent the temperature dropping. It was a sweet relief from the unusual afternoon stickiness. It was October, but the humidity continued to cling.
    As the crowd dispersed , only Judge Coleman, Mrs. Coleman, Candace, and her children remained around the casket. Out of the corner of her eye, Candace caught a movement. There was the same