9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Emilia
I have no idea how many people I greet but as Silas leads me to my seat at the front of the chapel, I’m honestly surprised to see the room filled to the brim.
When Silas goes to leave and take up a seat elsewhere, I grip tightly onto his hand, and look up at him in desperation, hoping he can see that I don’t want to do this alone.
With a small smile and a nod, he sits next to me, placing our joined hands on his lap.
Shortly after we take our seats the minister enters through a side door, I tune him out immediately and just stare at the portrait of my father that sits directly in front of me.
I barely remember him ever looking that young.
The ten years since my mother passed away had not been easy on him.
He worked so hard to keep the gallery going in her absence, but he always made me feel like I was a priority.
The distance between us that had grown after I moved to Perth filled me with guilt.
When was the last time I’d told him I loved him?
I don’t remember. He always ended our calls with a ‘ love you, sweetheart ’, but I can’t remember if I said it back.
The feel of Silas gently squeezing my hand pulls me from my dark thoughts, and I look up to find concern plastered across his face.
“Do you need me to do this for you, Emmy?” he asks. My confusion at his question must be clear, as his eyes shift from me to the front of the chapel. I look up following his line of sight and notice the minister's eyes also on me, encouragingly.
“Emilia, you wanted to say a few words about your father?” the minister prompts. Shit. I must have tuned out most of the service.
“I can read the eulogy if it is too much for you,” Silas whispers.
I shake my head, lifting my chin as I rise from the seat and walk towards the lectern.
The minister moves off to the side when I step up.
My notes are already in place. I’d sent them via email to Alister earlier for exactly this reason.
I clear my throat as I look out over the sea of black garbed people. There are a few familiar faces that look up at me with a mixture of sympathy and encouragement, but the majority I don’t recognise.
“Jeremy Walters was my rock and the centre of my universe when my mother died ten years ago. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he was an amazing father.
He made sure that I never wanted for anything.
He learned how to braid so he could do my hair just like she had.
He encouraged me to follow in her footsteps, making sure my love of art and painting wasn’t set for what most would consider ‘safer pursuits’, like business or finance, and he never once made me feel like I had to change who I was for the world.
He used to say, ‘Emmy, my darling, if the world can’t handle all that you are, then it is the world that has to change, not you.
Never dim your light for anyone. Burn bright’,” I feel my lip trembling at the memory, so I take in a shuddering breath before looking around the room again.
“I know he would’ve been shocked to see so many people here to celebrate his life, but although I was his whole world, it didn’t escape my notice how loved he was, by so many of you.
He was a popular man. Quick to smile, and always keen for a chat over coffee and a croissant. ”
I open my mouth to continue, but the words escape me when my eyes land on a dark-haired man leaning against the wall, in the back corner of the room.
His arms are crossed over his broad, black suited chest. I can’t really tell from this distance, but it looks like dark tattoos covered the backs of his hands and wrists.
I feel his eyes boring into me with such intensity, even from the opposite side of the room.
The people around him must feel the waves of dark energy coming off him too, as there’s a noticeable space between where he stands and those closest to him.
Everywhere else people are sitting and standing so close, they are almost all touching, but not in that corner.
It only adds to the mystery of him. The moment he notices my attention, a small smirk lifts the corner of his sensual lips.
I clear my throat and tear my eyes off him to look down at my notes, using the moment as an excuse to compose myself. Who the hell is that guy?
“I will always regret that I didn’t see him more before he passed, especially over the last few years since I moved away, but I know he was proud of the life I’ve built and the reputation I’ve gained, not as the daughter of Ellyse and Jeremy Walters, but through my studies and my own hard work in the field of fine arts.
In their honour, I will keep doing what we all loved, and I hope that it keeps their memories close to me. ”
I grab my notes and step away from the lectern.
The minister offers a small touch on the shoulder for comfort as I pass him on the way back to my seat.
My eyes are drawn once again to the back of the room as I move, but I find the space where the mystery man was standing is now filled with other people.
Silas takes a hold of my hand again once I am seated and rubs his thumb over the back of my knuckles.
I offer him a brief smile and face the front of the room again.
“Thank you, Emilia. I know your parents will be watching over you with pride,” the minister says looking over at me.
I nod my head in thanks. “As we end the formal service, Emilia welcomes you all to stay and share some refreshments and memories of Jeremy in the Reflection Room, located to your left as you leave the chapel.”
I stand as the minister makes his way down to where Silas and I are.
He shakes Silas’ hand and offers his condolences to me again while ushers begin to move the congregation out of the now wide open, back doors.
They also run interference and stop anyone who attempts to move towards us.
Alister comes through the side door at the front and offers me the bottle of water.
I take it gratefully and drink deeply. I hadn’t realised how thirsty I was.
“Take a few minutes and let us get everyone settled in the Reflection Room. The canapes are already being brought around, and it will take some time for the first wave of guests to get drinks from the bar. Can I bring you anything while you wait?” he asks.
“Not for me, thank you,” I say. Silas shakes his head beside me.
“Okay. Just join us when you are ready, but don’t rush. Take as much time as you need.” He turns and walks up the aisle, grabbing any stragglers on his way through, before closing the double doors behind him.
Silas’ arm folds over my shoulder and pulls me against his side. “You ready to face the horde?”
“Not even a little bit,” I admit. “But the sooner we get through this, the sooner we can leave.”
“We can just sneak out, you know? I can call Alister, and he will make your excuses. You don’t owe anyone out there anythin’,” Silas offers.
I huff a laugh at him but shake my head and sigh with resignation. “No, I don’t owe them. But I think my dad would be upset if I didn’t at least put in some face time with them all to say goodbye, even if they don’t know about my decision to sell the gallery yet.”
Silas nods in understanding and offers me his arm again. “Then let’s get this over with, as you say.”
I take his offered arm and let him lead me back up the aisle.
Who knows, maybe if I let word get around that I’m going to sell the building and the gallery, there might be a potential buyer here.
Maybe I’ll also get the chance to speak with that mystery man.
That thought gives me a new task to focus on.
I drop Silas’ arm and walk into the Reflection Room with my head held high.