Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
I’ve always liked church music.
Hated church. But I loved the music.
Dad and I have— had —that in common. He only went weekly to appease my mom. It was rare when Dad and I would align on anything, but church seemed like the one place where he and I were truly a team. He would roll his eyes at me if the priest said something in his sermon we thought was dumb. He would surreptitiously hand me candy in the middle of service, giving me a little wink as we each tried to silently unwrap it and pop it in our mouths without Mom seeing.
One day after mass, he and I were at the pub prepping for the lunch crowd when he slid me a look from where he scrubbed the grills. “Hearing you sing in mass is the only part of Sunday mornings I enjoy. You know that, Sprout?”
Eyes wide, I stared up at him in awe from where I filled ketchup bottles, standing on the dirty step stool at the counter beside him. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. What’s that Eagles Wing one? That’s my favorite. You sound a thousand times better than ol’ Mrs. Middling.”
I giggled while playing with my loose front tooth. “I could sing it now while we clean!” I offered him.
“I think I’d like that,” he said with a single stoic nod.
From then on, I would belt out every song during the ninety minute mass, making sure my dad could hear me over the sea of tone deaf parishioners.
Even now as an adult, singing in church feels like coming home.
It’s like a cruel joke that I now have to stand here in front of a hundred people—family and friends—and sing his favorite song while he lays in a shiny cherry wood casket beside me.
And now, the expectations are higher. Higher even than most auditions I’ve had. Every person sitting here in church knows I left home to go be a star. They know I moved to New York. Some of them even know I’d landed my first ever Broadway show.
I didn’t realize it was in my father’s funeral plans that he had asked On Eagle’s Wings as part of his service until I arrived. Not only the song itself. But he’d specifically requested it be sung by me .
How the fuck am I expected to get through this? The intro has only just started and I already can barely see the words on my sheet music through the sheen of moisture filling in my eyes.
The intro music pauses as it comes to my entrance and I open my mouth to sing…
Only I’m met with silence.
A choked, quiet sob escapes me in place of the starting note.
I clear my throat and toss a look at the pianist, murmuring a quiet, “Sorry,” to her.
She nods and plays the chord again. This time, I manage to get the first few lines out, though I don’t think it sounds pretty by any stretch of the means.
I lift my gaze and sweep it over the parishioners in church, my gaze landing on Mom, sitting in the front row. Beside her, Mallory, Mallory’s husband and their kids. And at the end of the pew, there’s an empty spot meant for me.
In the pew behind where my empty seat is, Holden gives me a soft, but encouraging nod.
More emotion than I know how to handle simmers inside of me and the space between my forehead burns like someone has placed a branding iron between my brows.
Once again, the notes won’t come. They strangle in my throat and a shuddering sob wracks my shoulders.
From the pews, I hear a familiar baritone voice, Holden’s, start singing.
Blinking through my tears, another voice joins him from somewhere in the middle of the church. Jill’s.
I knew she was here today, but I hadn’t found her in the crowd yet, but there on the edge of a middle pew, I see the fiery corkscrew curls of her hair bounce. Beside her, Nolan starts singing. And her parents.
I expected to feel so alone here at Dad’s funeral. As much as I love my mom and sister, this isn’t my home anymore. It’s like walking into a time machine.
But I’m not alone.
Yes, Mom and Mallory are my family. But so is Jill. And Todd and Meredith. And Nolan.
And Holden.
This time, when I sing, my voice comes out confident. And despite the tears streaming down my face, I’m able to finish. Not perfectly.
But today isn’t about perfection. It’s about honoring Dad.
And I hate that it took me this long to learn that my voice… my talent… was an honor to him.
Despite everything, he was proud of me. So proud that he wanted my voice to be his send off to Heaven.
The rest of the service is uneventful.
We stand in the receiving line.
We hug and kiss a bunch of people.
We host a celebration of life at the pub.
And by nine p.m., the only people left in the bar are me, Mom, Mallory, and Holden, wiping down the tables, lifting chairs up, and filling the dishwasher.
The air around us is sharp and pungent, the scent of day old bread mixed with Clorox leaves a lingering aroma that I can’t help but associate with Dad.
Mallory gives me a pointed look as I stack chairs on top of the tables. "So, I guess we won't be seeing much of you anymore, huh?"
I pause, a chair dangling from my hand. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on," she says sharply. "You barely came to visit when you weren’t working. Now? We’re never going to see you. My kids don’t even know who Aunt Kate is. I have to show them pictures of you from my wedding to remind them.”
I set the chair down. "That's not fair. I might not have been working as an actress, but I was working all the time before I got this part. If anything, my new job means I might have more time between shows to visit. I’ll definitely have more money.”
Mom shoots Mallory a warning look as she empties the last tub of dirty dishes into the washer. "That's enough now."
But Mallory barrels on with a snort. “Sure. Because of your new sugar daddy, right?” She gestures vaguely in Holden's direction. "Now that you have him back? Even as a nepo baby banging the director, you couldn’t get here to visit Dad when he was diagnosed. You made a dying man fly halfway across the country to come see you .”
“Mallory!” Mom scolds, a catch in her voice. But my big sister doesn’t hear her or doesn’t seem to care that she’s not only hurting me with her outburst, but breaking Mom’s heart, too.
“I tried to come home. You know I wanted to be here for Dad?—”
“What I know is that because of you , I wasn’t with my own father the night he died. And the biggest kick in the teeth? You couldn’t even be bothered to be there with him when he died.”
Her words are like bitter arrows, their sharp tips piercing through my heart and leaving behind a trail of hurt and regret.
When I look at my sister, we look so alike in all the ways that don’t matter. But all I see in return is the reflection of our fractured relationship; and a gaping wound between us that may never fully heal.
My eyes slide to my mother who now has her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. Holden stands beside her, clearly unsure what to do, but trying his best to comfort my mom with awkward pats to her back.
“You and I can talk later,” I say. “I know you don’t care about hurting my feelings, but you’re hurting Mom?—”
" I’m hurting Mom?” Mallory’s voice cracks like a whip. “Take a look in the mirror, Katie. There’s only one absent daughter in this family and it sure as shit isn’t me.”
My face burns. Deep down, I know it’s true. She’s right. I haven’t been around. There’s a good reason why, but right now as we’re all grieving Dad, none of those ‘good’ reasons matter.
“You act like this place doesn't exist except when it's convenient for you. But we're still here, living life whether you drop in or not."
“You haven’t dropped in either,” Holden says. When Mallory and I both whip around to face him, he dips his chin sheepishly, but adds more quietly, “How long has she been living away from home without a single family member to visit her?”
“I have young children,” Mallory says, her eyes narrowing. “Besides. You aren’t part of this family.”
“That’s enough!” Mom roars and steps between us, turning her glare on Mallory first. “You don’t get to determine who is part of this family. We accepted Brent immediately. If Holden is Katie’s person, then he is part of this family regardless of what you say. Second, Holden makes a good point. It’s true Katie hasn’t come home as much as any of us would have liked, but it’s not a one-way street. We are all to blame for this fractured family. But instead of playing the blame game, maybe we can all come to a truce and agree to try harder? For your father’s sake.”
Still stinging from Mallory’s accusations, I cross my arms, but give a nod all the same. I’m used to eating crow. I’ve done it my whole life. "Truce,” I agree. “For Dad.”
Mallory’s blue eyes flash, but her sharp nod tells me that this is far from over. “Fine.”
With a sigh, Mom leans against the bar. "Now that that’s out of the way, there's something I need to talk to you both about.”
Mallory’s expression immediately softens, melting from anger to concern in a blink.
Mom takes a deep breath. "In the spirit of having more time and freedom to visit not only you girls, but also my sister in Florida… I've decided to sell the pub. It's just too much for me to handle on my own. And it’s the main reason your father and I never got the chance to see the world like we’d always wanted."
Even though I feel like I've been punched in the gut, I know she’s right. This place was Dad’s dream. He poured his heart and soul into it for over 30 years.
But it was never Mom’s dream.
"But… you can't!" Mallory cries. "Dad built this place from the ground up. It was his whole life!"
Mom crosses to Mallory and pulls her into a hug. "I know this is hard," she says, gently. "But we have to be practical. I’m not as young as I used to be and your dad did most of the heavy lifting here.”
“Let me buy it,” Holden blurts out.
We all whip around to face him, startled. “What?”
He swallows with a nod. “I mean, I… I can invest. Hire a staff to run the place for you. You can still oversee what you need to, but with help. More help than you’ve ever had. You could travel while still collecting profits.”
“Profits,” Mom snorts. “This place never saw any profits. We made enough to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads and that was it.”
Holden’s expression softens. “We can change that, if you’re open to some adjustments. You can even maintain 51% ownership so you have final say.”
Mom's eyes widen in surprise, her brow furrowing as she weighs the possibilities at Holden's offer. She opens her mouth to respond, but Mallory cuts her off. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Mallory's face grows stormy, her cheeks flushing pink. "This place was Dad's heart and soul. We can't just hand the reins over to some outsider!"
“Mallory,” Mom warns with a voice I’ve seldom heard from her. “We’ve covered this already. Holden is Kate’s person. He’s part of this family?—”
“Yeah, for the time being!” Mallory shouts, wheeling on Holden. “Until he fucks her over again! You don’t know what he did to Kate back in the day, Mom, but I do. He’s not a good person.”
My throat plummets down to my stomach and Holden’s terrified gaze finds mine. I shake my head, mouth gaping. I didn’t know Mallory knew anything. I’ve never talked to her about anything that happened between us; never confided in her. How could she know?
“If I’ve forgiven Holden, then you can, too?—”
But Mallory doesn’t seem to hear me. Face red with anger, she points an accusing finger in Holden’s face. “My sister and I may have our differences, but she is still my sister. And you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot more to prove yourself than just show up at a funeral and throw your money at a situation like some kind of fake hero.”
“You’re right,” Holden says, pausing to look at my mom. “The offer does still stand to buy the pub and help. But I did fuck up with Katherine back in college. I’ve felt guilty every minute of every day since and I thank whatever God will have me that she’s decided to give me this second chance. I will prove to her how sorry I am… and I’ll prove it to you, too if I’m given the opportunity.”
A silent tear trails down Mallory’s flushed cheek and she’s rendered silent.
“How did you know?” I whisper.
She licked her lips, blinking as she glances at me. “I came to see your show at the Kennedy Center. I was going to surprise you… but I saw the whole thing.” She pauses, turning her icy glare back to Holden. “I know everything .”