Chapter 8

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me…shall never die…

Shawn's parents wept in each other arms, as the service began.

The immaculate floors were streaked with melting slush. For four days, a blizzard struck, pummeled, and buried Salem in a haze of white. Because of hazardous road conditions, all schools were cancelled, and residents were advised to stay in their homes. Nevertheless, love and death could not be denied, as Salem's elite families filled the cathedral to mourn John Thomas Brady.

THE LORD is my shepherd… though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me…

Shawn stood deadpanned, staring at his brother's still body and the coffin so wretchedly small, which held him. His great grandmother held his cold hand, while the priest's voice faded into the background. The faith that his family always held so dear offered little solace to his despair.

OUR Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name… forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil…

Shawn's eyes cooled. What kind of God would allow such a thing to happen to J.T.? Since his birth, his baby brother had been in and out of the hospital with endless tubes and needles shoved into him. Doctors practically cut him in half in their efforts to save him.

O MERCIFUL Father, whose face the angels of thy little ones do always behold in heaven; Grant us steadfastly to believe that this thy child hath been taken into the safe keeping of thine eternal love…

Shawn closed his eyes. All the suffering his brother had endured in such a short life, too short to accumulate enough sin to deserve so much pain. So, what was the point? What was the point of belief, prayer, and devotion, when his brother died anyway? Despite the endless tears, prayers, and sacrifices.

O God, whose beloved Son took children into his arms and blessed them: Give us grace to entrust John Thomas to your never-failing care and love, and bring us all to your heavenly kingdom…

Seated two rows across him, Belle watched Shawn's stony expression. She looked down to see her left hand held by Chloe, her right held by Mimi. Philip and Jason occupied the rest of the pew, while Belle and Philip's parents sat in the row in front of them. Belle looked on, as Hope ran a comforting hand over Shawn's hair. His eyes remained on the small white coffin.

Most merciful God, whose wisdom is beyond our understanding: Deal graciously with Bo, Hope, and their family in their grief. Surround them with your love, that they may not be overwhelmed by their loss, but have confidence in your goodness, and strength to meet the days to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

"Amen," murmured the congregation, before they stood to approach the alter and offer individual farewells and condolences.

Bo and Hope gazed down at J.T., who seemed in peaceful slumber, cradled in baby blue satin. "Oh, J.T.," whispered Hope, fingering her child's cheek, as the tears fell. "My baby…" She turned and hugged her husband. They reached for Shawn, who stood next to the coffin in a daze.

He reached in and tucked the soft blanket around J.T. His eyes welling with tears, Shawn softly sang, "Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never depart…" He sobbed, unable to continue.

"Oh, Shawn." His mother pulled him into her arms and comforted him.

"Hey, buddy," greeted Philip with a solemn heart.

"Hey, Phil," replied Shawn, sprawled on a chair in a private corner, staring out the window.

Not knowing what else to say without sounding stupid, Philip sat on the opposite chair, so he could watch the cyclone of snow and ice with his grieving friend. In hushed tones, other mourners moved about the reception area, nibbling hor d'oeuvres and fruit.

"Hey, dudes," said Jason, pulling up a chair to join his friends. He yanked at his tie and let it dangle slovenly down his shirt.

Shawn's eyes flickered at Jason's jerky motions and widened, when the light fell upon his friend's face. "What happened to you, Jase?"

Jason shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

When his friend didn't answer, Shawn looked to Philip for an explanation and gawked. "Damn, what the hell happened to you?"

Philip's shrug wasn't as easy as Jase's. Philip had thought that the bruises were worlds better after enduring all of Henderson's home remedies. Besides, Chloe might actually dig the gladiator look, he'd told himself in the mirror this morning. In the past couple of days with his stitched lip, chewing and kissing techniques were especially delicate undertakings.

"Is someone gonna fill me in here?" asked Shawn, scrutinizing Jason's fading bruises and Philip's stitches.

His friends exchanged cautious glances.

"Rough hockey game," said Jason, finally.

Shawn's skeptical eyebrows rose. "Uh-huh. Right, Gretzky. You guys get in a fight or something?"

Philip's lips pursed, his mind racing for an alterative story.

"Hey, guys," greeted Chloe from behind.

Grateful for the diversion, Philip popped out of his chair to hug her. "Hey, beautiful."

She ran gentle fingertips over his fading bruises. "Hey." She turned and hugged a sitting Shawn. "How are you holding up?"

He shrugged but with acceptance looked down at her hand over his. Somehow, it was easier taking sympathy from someone, who probably understood what he was going through. "Hey," he managed a weak smile, inspecting her in her trim dark gray suit, "Is this déjà vu or what?"

She smiled. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Her hand tightened on his for a moment. "Because of good friends, they're good memories."

He looked down at their joined hands and felt the tears burn again, this time in gratitude.

"Ok, that's enough of that," joked Philip, throwing a jovial arm around Chloe's shoulders, "Shawn, you're my buddy and all, but hands off my girl."

Shawn laughed for the first time in days. "You seeing green, Kiriakis? Is that how you got that black eye?" He cocked his brow, when Philip's eyes flashed, before his friend recovered in a shaky chuckle.

"Hi, guys," said Mimi, who arrived with drinks for everyone.

Saved twice in one day, Philip paid silent homage to the legendary Kiriakis luck. He thanked Mimi wholeheartedly, when she handed him a glass.

Moments earlier, she'd seen off a saddened Belle and her family. She looked around the room, then her incomplete circle of friends, and wondered why it had to be this way. She hesitated, before she approached Shawn. "How are you doing, Shawn?"

He sighed. He guessed that people would be repeatedly asking him that question for a while. "I'm fine."

After she chewed her lip a bit, she finally said, "Sorry, about the other day. And for today."

He looked up from his glass and relaxed the muscles, which he hadn't realized were tensed. "Me, too, Mimi." He sighed, as they hugged.

Jason watched them with his jaws clenched.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Jason.

Huddling against the billowing winds and snow, Mimi blinked at him from under her hat. "What?" Today had been a long day. Feeling somewhat out of place and hoping to finish the last of her applications, she'd left, after the reception crowd dwindled. She noticed, after a couple of blurry blocks that Jason was running up behind her. "What was what?"

"Now, you're strutting for Shawn or something?"

Mimi stopped in her tracks and gaped. "What?"

His eyes narrowed in disgust. "Belle and him are on the rocks, so you thought you'd just step in?"

Shocked, her mouth fell open then shut closed, before the outrage set in. "You… you… you pig!" She shoved him hard enough to make him trip. "I don't care, if you're piss-ass drunk this time or not! How-How dare you?" Insulted beyond comprehension, she let out a growl, before she turned and stomped away with an angry Jason trailing behind her.

"Then, what happened the 'other day,' huh?"

"That is none of your business! And stay away from me!" Her vision clouded with red. The nerve of this guy, she fumed.

"Great. Just like a chick. You act all innocent in front of everyone, and then you turn around and skeez with my best friend, and turn right back around, trying to act all innocent again."

"Your best friend?" She rounded to face him. "Your best friend? Who do you think Belle and Shawn are to me, you bastard? I've known them all my life! Who the hell are you to-" She growled vehemently again and walked faster toward her house.

"So… what? You're telling me nothing happened the 'other day,' Meems?"

"Why should I tell you a damn thing? You already got the moron instant replay running in your moron jock brain! Just because a girl isn't falling all over herself around you, you think she's screwing around with someone else! Well, you know what? Why don't you leave me the hell alone and go back to playing with your little sluts?" Unable to contain her anger any longer, she decapitated a nearby snowman and hurled the huge ball at him.

"What the-" He cursed, as he dodged the projectile head. "Damn, good arm. Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, as another snowball caught him dead on the face, then another exploded on his chest, then shoulder.

"Bastard!" she screamed, as she flung streams of enraged snowballs with every other word, "Belle… is my… best… friend… How dare… you even… I can't believe… I actually… liked you…"

His reddened ears perked up under the onslaught. "What?"

"You… pathetic…" she shouted, shooting endless snowballs at him, "Clueless… piece of sh-" Suddenly, she was knocked breathless into a snow bank. Spitting snow out of her mouth and nostrils, she blinked to see a drenched Jason, pinning her to the ground. He'd tackled her. The fucking bastard had tackled her. "Get off of me!"

He caught her hands, armed with sharp fingernails that came perilously close to his face. "Damn it, would you just-" He nearly yelped, when she tried to bring her knee up between his legs. For the sake of his future offspring, he quickly pinned her knees to one side with the only leverage he had left - his butt. "Damn, anyone ever tell you got a nasty temper?"

"Get the hell off me!" screamed Mimi, her chest heaving from exertion and fury.

"Not until you calm down," he said, his own breath uneven. Her big brown eyes spat fiery darts at him. "Now, what was that about you liking me?"

"In your dreams, jerk!"

"You know, you're really cute, when you're angry."

She growled, "For the last time, get off-"

"Ah, what the hell," he muttered, before his lips crushed against hers.

Her hands fisted, while her eyes widened in shock. With numbed effort, her wrists resisted against his hold. She didn't know, when her lips heated or when her eyes fluttered shut. She swore the snow melted around her, when he ran his tongue over hers. The hold on her wrists gentled, as her toes curled.

Her eyes slowly opened and focused, after he pulled away.

They goggled at one another with a mixture of confusion and wonder. Then, each scrambled to standing, dusting off the snow that was quickly soaking through their coats, their eyes unable to meet.

"I-I should get home," said a red-faced Mimi, as she turned and quickly walked the remainder of the block to her house.

Jason watched her disappear between the hedges, before he rubbed a shaky hand over his face. What the hell just happened?

Chloe paused in the doorway and then leaned against the post. She watched, as Philip, with his Italian designer sleeves rolled up and perfectly starched collar unbuttoned, stack the serving plates into a precarious pile. Barely swallowing her laughter, she saw him lift the three-foot stack and sway with the dishes.

"Oh, boy," he mumbled.

What was it about a guy being domestic that was so irresistibly sexy? wondered a grinning Chloe. "Need some help?"

"Naw, I got it-whoa!" he gasped, as a plate slid from one side to the other. When it settled peacefully on top of its companions, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Uh… ok, maybe I do," he admitted sheepishly.

With a smile, she shook her head in pity at her adorable boyfriend. "You ever heard of never taking on more than you can handle?" she asked amiably, as she unloaded some of the dishes back onto the table and aligned them precisely one atop the other.

His dimples flashed. "I say, that depends on what I'm handling."

"There," she grinned with flushed cheeks, after she removed a third of the pile, "You can take it from here, can't you?"

"Absolutely," he grinned, gave her a smacking kiss, and made her giggle.

"People, people," snickered Shawn from the kitchen doorway, "Get a room."

"Old buddy, you're a genius," answered Philip. He slanted Chloe a sly wink.

Refusing to blush, she wiped her hands on a napkin. "I see that this conversation can only go downhill from here. So, you boys finish up the dining room, while I go help Shawn's mom and Mrs. Carver in the living room."

Philip admired her retreating figure, as she strutted out of the room.

"Come on, Phil. We don't need you drooling all over our plates." Shawn picked up the remaining pile from the table.

Philip only grinned, as he followed his friend into the homey kitchen. They worked in companionable silence and loaded the dishwasher. Philip had never realized how comforting these menial tasks could be, until his dad ordered him to labor alongside the servants. But being here with Shawn, especially when his friend needed him, made the moment special.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened to your face, man?"

Philip's grin faltered. After some thought, he replied, "Nope."

Shawn shook his head. "I leave you guys alone for a couple of days, and this is what happens. You and Jase didn't seem too pissed at each other. So, can I assume some other dude was in on this?" When his friend gave him no reply, he shrugged. "And it's got something to do with Chloe. Usually, if it's got something to do with you, it's got something to do with Chloe."

When Phil made the point to dusk off their countertop, Shawn's cop genes knew that he was getting warmer. "Come on, Phil. You're killing me here. I haven't seen you this beat up, since fifth grade, when some dumb kid made some crack about your dad. So, what happened?"

Philip leaned against the countertop and surveyed the area to ensure all possible weapons were out of reach. "I'll tell you, when you talk to me about Belle."