Chapter 6

 

Ava

 

 

I ARRIVED A few minutes early to Sheila’s visitation on Wednesday. As I entered the church, I found myself face-to-face with Dwayne, who was standing just inside of the double-doors wearing a dark gray suit.

“Ava?” he said, staring at me with wide eyes.

I managed a smile and nodded.

“Wow, look at you,” he said, looking me up and down with a sad smile. “You’ve changed a lot and yet, I still see that sweet little girl Andrew used to brag about.”

“Thank you,” I replied, noticing that he’d aged pretty roughly. There were deep lines and crevices along his face, especially around the lip area, and there were bags under his eyes. He looked haggard and rough. “So, he bragged about me?”

“Of course. You know how big brothers are. He used to talk about you all the time.”

I smiled sadly.

He looked at the doorway, his eyebrows knotted together. “He didn’t call you, huh?”

“No. Unfortunately.”

Dwayne let out a ragged sigh. “That’s too bad. It’s early, though. He might still show up here.”

As much as I wanted him to, my intuition was telling me that we wouldn’t be seeing Andrew at the funeral or anytime soon.

“Come on,” he said, offering his arm. “I’ll walk you over.”

Taking a deep breath, I slid my arm through his and we walked together up to the casket. Sadly, the church was almost empty, with only a couple of older people sitting in pews. They stared at me curiously as we moved past them and I had to wonder who they were as well. As far as I knew, my mother didn’t have any living relatives.

When we reached the casket and I saw her, all of the mental anguish I’d undergone as a child hit me at once, and my eyes filled with tears.

“It’s okay,” Dwayne whispered, patting my hand.

 Trying to keep my composure, I stared at the woman who’d given birth to me. Although she had to have been only in her mid-fifties, she looked like a frail, gaunt, old woman. One I barely recognized. The drug abuse had definitely taken its toll on her, and it surprised me that she’d made it as long as she had.

“Hello, are you the daughter?” asked the minister, approaching us from the side of the chapel. He was a gray-haired man with kind eyes and a sympathetic smile.

I nodded.

He offered his condolences and then told me that he’d been with her when she’d passed away.

I stared at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. She’d been coming to my church for the last couple of months, trying to make her peace with God before her time came,” he replied softly.

“Did she die here?” I asked, confused.

“No. She died in hospice,” he said. “In a care facility.”

“Oh,” I replied.

“Sorry, Pastor. We didn’t even know she’d been in hospice,” Dwayne said, looking troubled. “Of course, the cancer had been a surprise, too. She never mentioned it.”

He nodded. “I know. I asked her a couple of weeks ago if she wanted me to gather her family to be with her at the end, but she refused.”

His words stung. “I guess nobody should be surprised by that,” I said bitterly.

“Sheila was ashamed and didn’t want to burden anyone with what she was going through,” he explained. “Especially you. She knew how badly she’d hurt you and didn’t think it would have been fair to walk back into your life as a dying woman.”

I nodded.

“She wanted me to give you this, though,” he said, holding out an envelope with my name on it.

I stared at it.

“Go ahead. Take it,” Dwayne urged.

Swallowing, I took the envelope, folded it, and stuck it into my purse. “I’ll read it later.”

He nodded.

“Was there one for Andrew, too?” I asked.

“Your brother?” the pastor replied, looking confused. “No. She told me he’d died recently.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

“What?” Dwayne and I asked in unison.

The pastor’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. You didn’t know?”

“No,” Dwayne replied in a hoarse voice, his face stricken with grief. “Died? Why… h-how did he die?” 

“Sheila told me she found out about it on the news. He was… he was killed,” the pastor replied, looking horrified to have to be the one relaying the information. “In Minnesota, last summer.”

Dwayne and I both started asking questions at once.

“Look, I don’t know much about it. I’m sorry,” he said. “Just what I told you.”

“Does anyone know who killed him?” I asked, heartbroken.

“She never said,” he repeated. “I’m sure you can find something about it online or get ahold of someone in law enforcement for the information. She didn’t really want to talk about it with me too much. It really devastated her.”

“I just can’t believe I’m finding out about this now. She could have at least told me,” said Dwayne who was already on his phone, trying to look up information on the Internet. After a few seconds he moaned. “Oh, no. Dear God...”

“What is it?” I asked, moving closer to him. I looked down at his phone and my stomach dropped at the gut-wrenching headlines.

 

Blood Angel Killed Trying to Assault Local Woman

 

We read the article, which didn’t make a lot of sense. Apparently, Andrew Bordellini, who they were referring to as “Blade”, had been shot after trying to attack some woman in East Bethel, Minnesota. After reading more into the article, it appeared that the woman was associated with the Gold Vipers, a rival club with a shady past.

“See? This is why I warned him about getting involved with outlaw biker clubs! Obviously, these Gold Vipers had him killed and set it up to look like he was at fault,” Dwayne said angrily.

“You think so?” I asked, stunned.

“Hell, yeah. Especially these Gold Vipers. I’ve seen them in the news more than once and I know damn well that they assassinated him. It’s what those fuckers do.”He glanced at the pastor, who’d been observing us silently. “Excuse my language. Andrew was my son.”

The man nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Blinking back tears, Dwayne nodded and put his phone away. “Thank you. I need to get out of here. I’m sorry.”

“In times like this, a church might be the best place for you,” replied the pastor gently.

“Right now, the best place for me to be is at home, alone, with a bottle of Jack,” he muttered and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Ava. I know this is hard on you, too. I just… I need some time by myself.”

I felt sick to my stomach and could only imagine what he was going through.

He hugged me and then quickly left the church.

As much as I understood him wanting to be alone, I felt the opposite and wished I’d allowed Millie to join me. I felt as if I was barely holding it together as memories washed over me. Losing Sheila had been bad enough. Knowing that I would never get the chance to see my brother again was devastating.

“Would you like to sit down and talk about your brother?” the pastor asked kindly.

I knew his intentions were good, but I suddenly felt a strong desire to find out exactly who was responsible for Andrew’s death and bring those people to justice. My brother might have made some bad decisions in his life, but deep down, I knew he wasn’t the monster the media was making him out to be. The guy I remembered wasn’t the kind of person who went around assaulting women, and the only thing that made sense was what Dwayne had said about Andrew being set up and murdered.

Pulling myself together, I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine,” I said, my determination to right a wrong making me stronger. “When does the service start?”

“In twenty minutes,” he replied, still looking concerned. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some private counseling?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He looked at his watch again. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to change into my robes.”

“Of course,” I replied.

He stepped away and I looked around the church, not exactly surprised that more people weren’t filing in the doorway to pay any last respects. It was actually pretty depressing. But then again, Sheila had alienated herself from most everyone. She either pushed everyone away or simply abandoned them. Although I was still hurt by how she’d failed as a parent, I took a deep breath and told myself to let go of the grudge I’d been holding for so long. She was to blame for me ending up in foster care, but Sheila had been fighting her own demons. I just hoped that in death, she finally found some kind of peace.

Remembering the letter, I walked over and sat down at one of the pews. I opened it up and began reading it.

 

My Dearest Ava,

 

What I wouldn’t do to be able to reach back in time and make things right. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for how much I failed you. I made so many terrible choices and I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to try and fix things between us. It wasn’t just shame that stopped me though. I was afraid that I’d hurt you again because of my weaknesses. I want you to know that I never stopped loving you or Andrew. Whenever I’d try and get straight, I would think about my screw-ups and what I should have done. Instead of doing the right thing, I’d only get high again to try and forget what a shitty mom I was.

I’m sorry, Ava. I truly am. I hope that you make better choices in life than me and will always fight for the ones you love.

 

She didn’t sign the letter I noticed, but there was a key taped to the paper. I stuffed both of the items into the envelope and walked back over to the casket. My heart felt heavier than ever as I stared down at her. “It’s okay. I forgive you,” I whispered, feeling a weight lift off of my shoulders. The letter couldn’t really make up for the horror I’d gone through in foster care, but to know she’d owned up to her screw-ups made me feel better.