Dust was quiet for the next four days. The usual gossip that circulated between Dusties was silenced with the wind; it seemed futile and childish to spread rumors, whether they were true or not. There was a hushed way about the people as they soaked up the tragedy of Patrick Clay and his terribly mislead daughter, Dana. Perhaps it was because no one really knew what to say or because there was still tension regarding the newcomers, but no one looked each other in the eyes.
In a series of about twenty days Dust had been turn up side down and shaken sideways. Some of its people were caught off guard and fell, while the rest of them held on for dear life. Most of the original Dusties would argue that this was because of the newcomers. Others would stand to say it was because of the unchanged communism of the town. Dust had been a thriving settlement for close to thirty years with no changes or exceptions to the rules, yet its people were crumbling beneath the pressure. There were many unanswered questions that zoomed through the heads of the town, but no one dared to ask them, not in a time like this.
The silence of the people was unbroken as the settlement soberly set up Patrick Clay’s funeral. In the center of town was a platform decorated with a red velveteen skirt and a collection of classically Patrick Clay items scattered on the foreground. There was a Polaroid of him with a young Pamela on his knee and an even younger Dana on his shoulders in a black frame. Along the edges were dried flowers, pale pink and yellow pedals that had been collected over the past two months for this sole purpose. Imbedded in the stale blossoms and stems were little trinkets and books that were Patrick’s, and at least a dozen Playbills.
It was late morning when the service started and every person in Dust was there. Most people brought their own chairs and a few stragglers stood in the back or sat on the ground. There was no official priest and no official words, but there was a long line of people who wanted to say something.
Juniper stood in the back with her arms crossed and frown present on her face. If it wasn’t enough that Noah got shot, Juni had to come back to this mess. Evanne was sitting at the edge of the crowd in a rusty wheelchair and as pale as apiece of paper. It didn’t take long for Juniper to put the pieces together. The whole thing disgusted her; she had even seen and spoken with Dana in the wilderness just yesterday! That bitch couldn’t even confess to what had happened; she had just told Juni and Aaron that she needed some air.
“Unbelievable.” Juniper muttered to herself, thinking about Dana, as she watched Marina Freeds tearfully express her gratitude for Patrick. In any other given circumstance Juniper would have taken her turn up there and said that Patrick was like a father to her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Juniper looked up into the clear blue sky, the pasty sun beamed down on the tired town of Dust. She should have been grieving like the rest of the people, but she was boiling inside. This was just another thing she would suppress until further notice. She had been unbelievably honest with Aaron out in the wilderness, but she had also been harsh and unsympathetic.
Juniper’s mind wandered just as her eyes did, checking in on everyone. Diane Clay sat at the front as unmoved as a statue, and Pamela was unseen by Juni. Noah was also toward the front, pale, but moving around fine. Evanne looked like death and her baby Evelynn was being looked after by her mother. At the other edge of the crowd were the Thompkins, Owen was wringing a hat uncomfortably while his wife held one of their children, the other baby was tucked away in a large weaved basket. Robin of course was the first person she had found, but she saved him for last. Her eyes scanned him up and down before returning to the funeral. Now Carlos Manch was taking his stand, all the words that were spoken by the last five people meshed together and became white noise to Juniper.
“Dammit,” she said, finally bringing everything in her head to a halt. This made a couple of Dusties turn around with annoyed faces, then they returned to the service without much mind.