Just three weeks later, Vaughn was gone. Snowflakes fell as a new year began. Frank and Liam stood, hand in hand, at the graves lightly dusted, one older, one fresh after everyone else had gone and Dr. Vaughn Hellier had been laid to rest. The day of his passing, he had come upstairs from the mortuary with Liam. The three of them—father and surrogate sons—had shared a late lunch, Frank’s first out of bed. Vaughn had gone in for a nap shortly after. When he hadn’t come out for supper, Liam decided to check on him. Vaughn had peacefully died in his sleep. “He fought to be here as long as you needed him,” Liam said to Frank.
“I feel as though I always will.”
“I’m glad so many people attended.”
“Vaughn worried he was seen as some sort of spooky outcast,” Frank said, “because of what he did.
