The next day, I woke up soaked in cold sweat with my heart pounding. A nightmare jolted me awake where I tried to tread water while being tossed around the Pacific Ocean. Frigid water numbed my limbs, and I couldn’t keep my head above the turbulent surface. Coughing. Choking. Gasping for air.
A fleet of boats overflowing with orange life vests surrounded me, the townspeople of Steele Falls on board each one. Yet, every familiar face and even strangers watched me suffer with a blank expression on their faces. No one would help. A massive tidal wave crashed over me, shoving me downward, a flurry of miniature bubbles blinding me from knowing which way was up. Weightlessness took hold, and I sank into the abyss of the ocean while a final rush of icy water greeted my lungs. Burning. Indescribable pain. I was too exhausted to fight back, and my body went limp.
It was so vivid, I could almost feel the salt on my skin as I rubbed my thumb against the pads of my fingers.
I rolled over and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, but a gray sky still loomed overhead, telling me more was on the way. Thick branches of the near-leafless trees bent in the strong breeze, and the gate slammed against the fence, not properly locked from the last visitor. It looked both cold and uncomfortable to be standing outside. Perfect weather and tone for a funeral. I checked my cell phone and there was a series of texts from my sister, sent fifteen minutes ago.
‘Veigh
I left my spare keys on the counter for you. I’ll give you a ride back home if you need it.
Meeting with the executor is scheduled for eleven. Office building across from the cemetery. Suite C.
Mommy and I are leaving now. Finn will meet us there. See you soon. xoxo
I tossed the phone back on the nightstand without sending a response. So much had happened in the few days since I arrived in Steele Falls, it seemed like weeks. Yet, the day of the funeral had snuck up so fast.
I went to the closet and stood there for about ten minutes, indecisive. Nausea filled me and my hands felt clammy. Remaining hidden and non-existent was my goal. After much debate, I pulled out a fitted charcoal-colored sweater and a black, floor-length skirt. Picking out clothing and pulling the hangers from the rack made everything more real. Escape was still possible. It wasn’t too late to run. But I questioned whether it’d do me any good. I used to think it would, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.
The heaviness of the day took hold, which gave me unwanted time to reflect. I pinned my hair up in bobby pins and allowed a few loose tendrils of curls to frame my face. With little makeup on, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a younger version of me in my eyes. A less guarded girl. A free-spirited girl. A girl who knew how to laugh and love. “Where did she go?” I touched my lips. That girl was in there somewhere, and I vowed to find her again.
* * *
I arrived at the single-story building across from the cemetery five minutes early. The exterior was aged and faded, empty planter boxes lining the walkway. I parallel-parked Daveigh’s car in the last empty slot on the street and stared head-on at one of the moments I was most afraid of. It took a few attempts to convince myself to get out and head up the walkway, but I finally prevailed. One foot in front of the other. The double doors were unlocked, the lobby eerily quiet and dim as I walked inside. A deep breath. The smell of stale coffee and the feeling of sadness swilled together, both cloying in the back of my throat. Suite C was on the right at the end of the hall.
I knocked three times.
“Come in,” a male voice bellowed.
I opened the door and saw an older man seated behind a baroque desk. His stature domineered, but a glint of compassion behind his eyes reminded me of a squishy teddy bear. His head was both bald and shiny, glossy against the fluorescent lighting overhead. A substantial amount of facial hair cradled his chin, appearing to have slid down from atop his scalp. “You must be Blue,” he said.
I nodded and shut the door behind me. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“You’re not late. Two minutes early, according to my clock.” He perched a pair of bifocals on his face. “Have a seat. My name is Douglas Crenshaw, but we have two employees and a service dog named Doug around here, so everyone calls me Crenshaw.”
I looked around. The walls were drenched in rich tones of deep brown and forest green. Elana and Daveigh were seated side-by-side across the room on an oversized leather couch near a lit gas fireplace. Finn sat as far from them as possible on a loveseat with an ankle resting on his opposing knee. I opted to occupy the empty cushion next to my brother.
“Hey,” he said with a half-smile, scooting over.
“Hi,” I replied quietly. “Did I miss anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Is this everyone you want present, Elana?” Crenshaw asked.
My mother straightened her posture and tightened her gloved grip around a tissue. She wore her usual skirt-blouse-and-jacket combo, this time in black. A matching 40’s pillbox hat donned her head with netting covering her face. “Yes.”
Crenshaw shuffled a stack of papers on his desk. “Now, I’m not only the executor of Tom’s will and his lawyer, but I was his friend for a few decades. With that said, I’ll be honest. This matter has been more complicated than most that’ve passed by my desk. Main reason being a majority of his money being in his sister’s name. A sibling holding money over a spouse isn’t a common occurrence. But then again, the term ‘spouse’ doesn’t directly apply here.”
My mother cringed, her personal business being put on display like a caged animal in a zoo. “May I see the will?” she asked before pursing her lips together.
“No, Elana,” Crenshaw said flatly. “That’s not necessary.”
She blinked rapidly in surprise of being turned down. “Why—”
“Tom was very cut and dry on what was to be assigned where. Of course, the house and any items inside belong to you, along with all vehicles and your joint bank ventures. However, Tom did have the separate account I mentioned, in Julie’s name, and he was very specific about it.”
Crenshaw fiddled with the combination lock on a safe behind his desk. I looked at the simple clock on the wall, a massive white circle with bold black numbers. The second hand lazily made its way around in a complete revolution twice while the room remained silent; at least it wasn’t stuck on 39. Sweat trickled down my back in the overheated space, a reminder that I wanted to run far and run fast. Funeral time was set to start in a little over an hour. All I had to do was get through the day, and it’d all be over with for good.
Crenshaw stood up from his crouched position. His knees cracked like a bowl of rice cereal, giving away his age. He hobbled around to the front of his desk with a stack of thin yellow envelopes in his hand. “In my experience, I recommend waiting to open these later, in private. There’s no doubt today will be tolling on each of you, both mentally and emotionally. Nothing in here will change whether you open them now or tomorrow. However, there is only one chance to pay your respects at the funeral. Daveigh.”
My sister reached out with shaky fingers and accepted the first envelope. “Thank you.”
“Elana.” He extended the second to my mother.
Her only response of gratitude was a slight head nod as she dabbed at her eyes with a fresh tissue.
Next, Crenshaw walked over to where Finn and I were seated. “Blue.” He handed the third envelope to me. Unlike everyone else’s, a second envelope was paper-clipped to the back of the yellow one.
I took the envelopes from him and tried to split them apart. “One of these must be yours, Finn.”
“No,” Crenshaw said, placing his warm palm atop my hand. “Both of those are for you. “This one is Finn’s.” He handed a final envelope to my brother.
I looked up at him. “I don’t understand. Why am I the only one with two?”
“I’m merely the messenger on Tom’s behalf.” He glanced at Elana. “I’ll leave you and your children to talk for a few minutes.”
I fingered over the sealed envelopes in my hand, the handwriting reading ‘Blue’ unfamiliar to me. The paper felt heavy in my palm, and I was suddenly unsure whether I wanted to know what was inside. The money’s the whole reason you came back to Steele Falls. Isn’t it?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of paper ripping as my mother hastily tore the edge of her envelope. “Five thousand dollars?” she scoffed “That’s it? From a seasoned stock investor?”
Daveigh opened her envelope and peered inside. “Same,” she replied before tucking it into her purse. With tears in her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Without opening his, Finn held his envelope against the lighting and nodded before slipping it in his inside jacket pocket.
Suddenly, two pairs of eyes were on me—Elana’s and Daveigh’s. “What?”
“Well, aren’t you going to open yours?” my sister asked.
My mother sported her classic poker face. Not surprising. Opening the envelope in front of everyone felt wrong to me, but the two of them waited with bated breath.
“Like Crenshaw said, I think I’d rather wait until I’m alone later—”
“For Pete’s sake, Blue. Quit dragging this out, and open the damn thing.” Elana pointed at the envelope on my lap.
Finn gave me a nudge. “It’s your choice, but the sooner you look, the sooner it’s over with. Safety in numbers. Remember?”
I closed my eyes and wondered if he were right. Maybe getting it over with would be like ripping off a bandage. The unknown wouldn’t be looming over my head for the rest of the day—one hurdle cleared. My hands shook as I slid my index finger under the seal of the larger of the two envelopes, making a neat tear. I pulled the document out and froze.
“Blue, you’re really pale. What’s wrong?” Finn whispered.
“It’s nothing.” I folded the piece of paper as small as possible, hoping to bury it for eternity. “Everything’s fine,” I said, shoving both envelopes in my jacket pocket.
“What is it? We’re all family here.” Daveigh walked over to where I sat and gave me a hug. Before I realized what happened, she’d reached into my pocket and pulled the larger envelope out.
“What are you? A child?” I swatted at her, reaching for it, but she’d darted out of the way. “Don’t, ‘Veigh. Please.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t make a big deal about it. I’m sure…” She let out a whistle as she peered inside. “What the hell?”
Elana huffed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “What now?”
“Blue’s total.” Daveigh looked up at me. “It’s for five million dollars.”
“Let me see that,” my mother snapped, storming across the room to snatch the envelope from Daveigh’s hand. Her line of vision darted around every inch of the piece of paper. Front and back. “There has to be some mistake.”
As if on cue, Crenshaw entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. “Are there any questions or do you need a few more minutes before you head over to the cemetery?”
My mother opened her mouth and then closed it again before dropping the envelope onto my lap. “No. No questions at this time. Thank you.”
“All right. Funds will be dispersed when…”
The rest of Crenshaw’s words were lost on me. I fought to stay in the present while he said his goodbyes to each of us. In a single file line and in silence, the four of us left the office and walked out toward the parking lot.
Much like letting go of a forced smile, I wasn’t sure what facial expression was appropriate. Tom had left me a ridiculous sum of money, and the rest of my family was left to wonder why. No one could tell them but me. Damn him. The whole scenario made me want to throw up. “I’ll meet you across the street in a minute,” I said to Finn.
“You sure? I can wait.” His eyes flicked up toward Elana. “Trust me, I don’t mind. It’d be a welcome excuse.”
I nodded and swallowed. “I’m sure. You go.”
“Okay.” He gave me a quick hug paired with a look of concern before he trailed after them.
I stood near the breezeway linking two buildings and waited until they were out of sight before I fished the second envelope from my jacket. Fortunately, Daveigh missed that one when she pickpocketed me. It, too, had my name written on the front in shaky, blue ink. I pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. Tom’s handwriting was unmistakable.
Blue,
I want to take a moment of your time to…
Eleven words. Eleven words were enough, perhaps too many. I stopped reading. You want to take a moment of my time, Tom? A moment? Last time I checked, that was indicative of “one”. Singular. What you took from me was well beyond that. The first six words alone were enough to make me vomit my breakfast on the sidewalk, and they caused my knees to knock together. I didn’t need to read the rest of the letter to know it was filled with crap. Tears stung my eyes and I tore it to shreds, refusing to stop until the pieces were each the size of confetti. I wanted no chance of it ever being put back together by anyone. My life was better off without any additional words or advice Tom Meyers had to offer.
I took the handful of paper bits and threw them in a nearby garbage can, a pathetic attempt at the closure I’d never obtain. A few stray pieces caught the wind and danced into the parking lot. “Good riddance,” I muttered as I thrust my hands in my pockets before heading across the street to the cemetery.
The rusty, wrought iron gates were wide open, spiked tops aimed toward the heavens. My shoes clicked against the cobblestone pathway as I made my way toward a gathering of people with more joining. The space wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it’d be. Saving grace. Maybe I could go through with the service, after all.
I saw my mother, Daveigh, and Finn in the distance as I my eyes scanned the gently rolling hills. A sea of gray tombstones punctuated the lush green grass. My hands were sweaty as fear pulsed through my veins.
Finn spotted me and changed directions, closing in on the distance between us with his brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? I’m worried about you.”
“I’m good. Promise.” I blinked rapidly.
He let out a deep breath. “Okay, but don’t think I’m going to let this go. You’re still the worst liar in the world.”
I gave him a quick hug. “I know.”
“Come on. We need to find our seats soon. It’s about to start.”
I let Finn lead me over the crest of the hill. Just when I thought I’d dug deep enough to find my courage, my feet forced me to a screeching halt. “Holy shit.” What I thought was initially a small grouping of people, revealed a surprise.
“I know,” Finn replied. “Big turn out.”
“I mean, I thought the whole town would come, but I really didn’t think there’d be this many…how many towns came?” My eyes honed in on where a sea of people continued to flock to where my mother stood. Camera men. Two local news crew. An entertainment channel spokesperson. Adam was right. It was going to be a circus, and I regretted my decision to attend.
Finn leaned over and whispered into my ear, “For everything being okay, you sure are hanging onto my arm similar to how politicians cling to corruption.”
I stifled my giggle at his attempt to lighten the mood.
“There’s a smile. You gonna be all right for a few minutes? I need to find Scott before the shit show starts.”
I nodded. “Go. Save him.”
Finn headed down the hill and turned around, walking backward as he spoke, “The director said rows one and two are reserved for immediate family.”
“Got it.” I took a breath and walked toward the dramatic setup. Seats with rounded tops were positioned in long rows, each draped in a white dressing and adorned with a single calla lily. Oversized silver-and-black bows countered the long, green stems. A blood red runner with flecks of gold glitter split the seating area into left and right hemispheres. It was the ostentatious path to where Tom’s coffin rested. Open casket. Why? No one had mentioned there’d be a viewing before the service. Until that point, seeing my step-father again hadn’t crossed my mind. I watched people stop to peer at him, stare at him, talk to him. An up-close and personal goodbye wasn’t going to happen by me. It took everything I had to convince my feet that walking forward to my seat was the correct action to take.
I kept my head down and hurried to the front row, trying to draw little attention to myself. From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother soaking up the attention from a continuous line of people. She even smiled a few times. People hugged her, consoled her, and patted her on the shoulder. It was the SHAT-combo’s distant cousin; she ate it up. For believing a short while ago we were so similar, it seemed like such a polar opposite.
A few minutes later, everyone was seated, and the classical music dwindled. The service was about to begin. In the second row, Finn and Scott were to my left, along with Daveigh and Beanbag. My mother was in front of us, seated alone, without her children by her side.
A brunette woman wearing a black clergy robe with a bold cross stitched on either side approached the lectern. She adjusted the microphone and stared out at the sea of faces. “Today, we meet here, in Steele Falls, to pay tribute and honor the life of Tom Meyers. Also, we’re here to comfort those he was close to who’ve been saddened by his unexpected death.”
Daveigh quietly sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I was frozen, memories pouring through me like a sieve; I felt like I was drowning and alone. Like last night’s bad dream came true.
The clergywoman continued, “Tom was a spiritual person. It’s appropriate his celebration of life reflect him for what he was: A kindhearted and gentle family man who adored his wife and three children. Each of you will likely remember today differently, but I hope you can recall it as a special moment where you shared time and fond memories with the ones you care about.”
You bet I’ll remember today differently. There was no way she’d know any better, but her words made me sick as I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands, fighting to maintain my stoic expression.
I saw my mother glance back at me from the corner of her eye and frown. She closed in on the distance between us as much as she could. “The least you could do is show some remorse for your dead father. Eyes are upon us,” she hissed.
“Step-father,” I mumbled under my breath.
“You’re lucky we’re in public or else I’d slap you.” Her stare was ferocious. “I don’t care if you called him the Pope, a unicorn, or Santa Claus. That man was relevant in your life since you were a child.”
I closed my eyes and smirked, afraid to open them again. “Relevant.” That was one fact she had right. Parents were supposed to be significant, and mine were. Just not in the way I’d hoped. I bit my lip, using the pain to chain me in the present.
Unexpectedly, the empty wooden chair to my right shifted and creaked as someone sat down next to me. I opened my eyes and turned my attention to who it was, caught off guard.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Adam murmured, facing forward. He was dressed in a classic black suit, and he smelled like a combination of pine trees and rain.
My stomach lurched. There was no opportunity for me to combat the tears threatening the corners of my eyes. “You said you weren’t—”
“I’m not letting you sit here on your own, Blue. No one should have to…” His voice trailed off as he pursed his lips.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
He didn’t modify his posture, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when he swallowed hard. “I know.”
My ears piqued at the sound of the clergywoman mentioning my name, bringing my focus back to the funeral. “Despite their individual struggles with the situation, I’ve been told each of Tom’s children would like to come up and say a few words. Blue?”
I glanced at Adam with a blank expression, almost seeking direction.
“Now, it’s my turn to use your words.” His face had never been so serious. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
I couldn’t muster more than a faint whisper, “But I think I do.” It took three tries of my brain communicating for my feet to move before they finally complied. Each step was an undertaking as I made my way up the three stairs. The top half of the coffin was propped open, and I was able to see Tom’s face. His oversized nose. His receding hairline. His pockmarked complexion. His beady eyes behind closed lids. I was thankful they were shut. Seeing the foggy windows to his soul would’ve pushed me over the edge. The clergywoman patted me on the shoulder and nodded her encouragement before moving out of the way.
Countless eyes and ears awaited my words. I cleared my throat, their murmurs quieting. A camera snapped a series of rapid shots from the left, and I jumped. It felt wrong knowing the event was being documented down to the most minute detail. Even worse, I was under the magnifying glass.
Adrenaline tingled my tongue, and I glanced at Adam while pulling a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. He nodded slowly. I wasn’t sure if he blinked, his eyes remaining fixated on me. Even after two years of no contact and a few days of heated arguments, he was my reassurance and my security when I’d needed him most.
Focus.
My breath echoed in my ears as I fought for the courage to speak. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” The words were barely legible as the paper moved in my hands. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Focus.
A flicker of memory took hold, an ember. It was one I’d kept locked up for so long. I prayed it wouldn’t catch fire and ignite. “He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me,” I paused as a single tear slid down my cheek, “in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.”
My voice squeaked. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
Focus.
I swallowed that last word hard as debilitating anxiety set in, and I wondered if the people seated in front of me knew. Knew my secret. I was certain everyone’s eyes scrutinized me for the truth.
Focus.
“For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort…”
I knew there was no comfort. It was ripped away long ago. I looked up, unable to go on without crumbling. My mother watched me, her lips pressed into the thinnest, tightest line possible.
“I’m sorry.” I bolted down the steps near the lectern and sprinted across the grass toward a grouping of trees in the distance. The folded piece of paper with my words was lost and forgotten. One of the thick trunks concealed me from the crowd, and I leaned against the rough bark to keep from falling. It was useless. My knees buckled and I sank to the ground, burying my face in my hands.
“Blue?” Adam’s voice was laced with concern as I heard his footsteps become louder.
I felt him kneel next to me, but I couldn’t uncover my eyes. My only response was in shaking my head left and right.
Adam didn’t ask if I was okay; he already knew the answer. I wasn’t. That was the first time I’d acknowledged it. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my shoulders heaved, an overdue cry of pained relief escaping my chest. His arms encompassed my frame while he held me tight. I didn’t care about the rest of the funeral. I didn’t care about my mother’s future reprimand. I didn’t care about the five million dollars. So much emotion fought to pour out of me at once, all I could do was let go.
“Slow down. Breathe.” He rested his chin on top of my head. “Let it out.”
I’m not sure how long I sat there with the shelter of his arms wrapped around me. He didn’t pressure me with a slew of questions or rush me to go back to the funeral. He didn’t shush me from crying or tell me a cliché ‘everything will be all right’. He held me, and that was what I needed. Damn him for always knowing what I needed. A little while later, maybe two minutes, maybe twenty, my sobs had subdued into a pattern of hitched breathing and hiccups.
“Are you going to tell her?” He helped me to my feet.
“No, the past is buried.” My eyes flicked over to the casket. “Or it’s about to be. Let’s just go back, so I can put this God-awful day behind me.”
He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. “Okay.”
By the time we arrived at the burial site, the funeral had ended. People were congregating in small clusters. I was surrounded by the monotony of black clothing and solemn faces while they quietly spoke amongst one another. A few looked at me as I passed by, but I kept my head down.
My mother spotted me from fifty feet away and bee-lined to where I stood. Daveigh and Finn weren’t in sight. So much for safety in numbers. Alone with the momster. My lucky day.
“I’m pleasantly surprised with your presentation,” she said. “The tears were a nice touch. It’s likely the only positive attribute from you being impregnated by that useless plastic surgeon.”
Adam’s eyed my stomach, a flicker of disappointment on his face. “Cash got you pregnant?”
The unsavory lie was too difficult to purge, so I answered with a nod.
“Christ,” Adam muttered.
“I’ll explain later,” I hissed at him.
“Spare me the details on how it happened. I got the gist of the birds and the bees talk long ago.”
“Not now.”
Elana’s eyes flicked over to Adam, acknowledging him with a lethal glare. “Her choice in who she spread her legs for could’ve been worse, I suppose.”
It was the lowest of blows.
As always, the world revolved around my mother. Her image. Her wishes. Her victories. She didn’t ask how I was doing or if I were okay. Hell, she was under the impression I was pregnant, and…nothing. I bit my tongue from saying something I’d regret later on.
The topic quickly curved back to the one I dreaded.
“I still don’t understand why Tom left you significantly more money than the rest of us. Ridiculous.” She spoke with certainty. “Those extra zeros have to be a hellacious mistake.”
“Extra zeros?” Adam asked, confused.
“I don’t know why.” A few loose locks of hair shielded my face, and I was grateful for that. If there were a way for me to sink into the graveyard, I’d have already been six feet under with the rest of the corpses.
“Well, there had to be a reason or someone should be fired for screwing up royally. He wouldn’t give you four million, nine hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars more than his own wife.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in dissatisfaction. As if I were a fly tangled in a spider web, my mother waited for the most opportune moment to strike and sink her fangs in.
“What’s she talking about?” Adam asked.
“I already said I don’t know.” I stomped my foot. “Can we drop this? Please?”
My mother crossed her arms. “No. I don’t want to drop it. Think back, Blue. Hard.”
I remained still, flashes of memories wrapping around my ribcage like gangly fingers taking hold of my soul. Gripping. Tearing. Puncturing. Shredding. Breathing was difficult as I tried to pace filling and emptying my lungs.
“C’mon. Let’s get out of here,” Adam murmured, nudging my elbow. “Don’t let her badger you like this.”
I looked around at the throng of people wallowing in post-funeral conversation; few had left. Escaping through the maze felt impossible. Drowning. Sinking. Suffocating. Just like my nightmare.
“Use your brain,” she pressed on. “There has to be a semblance of a clue in there somewhere.”
Adam was right. I should’ve left. It would’ve been best for everyone. Little did my mother know, my mind was the most terrifying place of all, history hidden under lock and key. The pressure of being at Tom’s funeral on top of holding my silence over the years was too much to bear. Like a twig, I finally snapped. “I have no fucking clue. Maybe it’s hush money. Maybe it’s remorse money.” My voice escalated to a yell, “Maybe it’s because your asshole of a husband tried to rape me!” I clamped my hand over my mouth.
There was no going back. Elana Meyers had her answer.