8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Maci
T he morning of the funeral, I wake up prepared for battle. I remind myself to keep my temper in check before climbing out of bed.
No redness or swelling indicates that I’ve been crying. My hair does exactly as prompted. I’ve left it loose and miraculously not a hair is out of place. Everything about getting ready is easy.
It’s misleading and an annoyance.
Stephanie would say that even through your grief you should be presentable. But I don’t give a shit what Stephanie says.
I stare out the window above the kitchen sink, sipping a colder than preferred cup of coffee, and taking in the view of the backyard. The grass is uncharacteristically green, considering the drought and lack of a sprinkler system. Trees fan out from the back porch accentuating the hidden feel and providing intermittent shade.
Nana wanted to add a pergola with a bed swing further into the yard. I smile at the thought of it paired with string lights and a fire pit surrounded by casual seating.
Stephanie comes tapping in, her steps halting abruptly. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
I don’t respond. My knee-length navy dress is complete with a lace embellishment over the top half and finished with cap sleeves. Aside from being tasteful and one of Nana’s favorites on me, it has pockets. There is no doubt, I chose the perfect dress for today.
The silver necklace I’ve paired it with was a gift from my grandmother. I reach up to the tiny gemstone dangling from the silver chain, tugging it side-to-side.
“Maci.” My mother’s tone is a warning.
Adirondack chairs surrounding the fire pit would be a nice addition.
“Maci!”
Or maybe rocking benches.
Her mouth is opening to speak again, something I feel rather than see, when I interrupt her. “I am aware of your thoughts on my attire, Stephanie. You are welcome to wear black if you desire. I do not. Nor did I ask for your opinion on the matter.” I sip my coffee.
She huffs.
Alan’s footsteps approach.
When I turn, they’re standing side-by-side, taking up the majority of the cased entrance to the kitchen. My eyes narrow on Alan in a look of warning before rinsing my mug and placing it in the dishwasher.
“I’ll see you at the funeral home.” I brush past them, exiting the kitchen before either can respond, hiding the anxiety that races down my spine as I half-expect Alan to reach for me.
Randi and Liv meet us at the funeral home. We hug in turn. Randi struggles to let go of me and I don’t pull away until she’s ready .
“I miss her already,” she whispers when she finally pulls back, tears threatening to spill from her deep, green eyes. Her hair hangs loose and she wears a simple, black dress coupled with plain, black flats. Meanwhile, Stephanie’s blonde hair has been hairsprayed into submission after donning her own black dress—a long sleeved, form fitting number with a neckline at her collarbone. Up close, the black on black geometric embellishment can be seen in all its muted, sparkly decadence. She wears black suede stilettos with a triangular cutout at the heel to match.
“Are you coming?” Liv’s voice is soft as she gestures to the giant wooden doors of the funeral home. They appear as twin mouths opening to swallow us up. Maybe that’s just my grief threatening to break through. Normally, this space would be lovely for a family photo session, with its lush lawn and trees that flower in springtime.
I shake my head. “I’ll stay out here a bit longer. You two go ahead.” Truthfully, being inside is stifling, like the weight of finality pressing heavily on my chest.
Liv squeezes my hand sweetly and Randi pats my shoulder as they pass me to enter. I’m amazed at how many others follow them. Many—too many—offer condolences and well wishes, prayers and heartfelt memories, hugs and pats on the arm. My cheeks and jaw hurt from forcing a grateful smile for so long. I’m well past overstimulated.
Leah arrives shortly before the service and wraps me in her arms, holding tight without saying a word. Her familiar loving arms threaten to bring down the dam I’ve built and I desperately bury all the emotion deep within, squeezing Leah tightly in return.
“Thank you,” I whisper into my best friend’s mahogany hair. It’s wrapped into a gorgeous braid instead of her usual wild and free style. Her light makeup and rosy cheeks give her a demure look. It’s both captivating and wholly out of character. “You look gorgeous.”
She brushes my cheek with a gentle kiss as she pulls back, all the thanks she can muster for my genuine compliment. “The end of the world couldn’t have kept me away today.” Her hands grasp my own with a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see you inside.”
I give her a half-smile. “Find Liv. She’ll be up front.” She nods as she passes through the grand doors.
The arrival of guests begins to slow. Heading inside, I contemplate situating myself between Randi and Stephanie, but I determine we all need to be big girls and push between my cousin and best friend instead. I wouldn’t wish for Izzy to be here instead of Hawaii, but I miss her immensely.
Liv has written a beautiful obituary for the program, which the minister reads, including the list of loved ones Nana has left behind. I’m thankful that the list is short. It doesn’t change how hard I have to work to keep myself together when Liv and I are mentioned.
When the minister invites me up, I remove my notes and a travel-sized pack of tissues from my dress pocket, setting both on the podium. The silence is deafening.
Bull Creek boasts a population under ten thousand, but the turnout today is awe-inspiring. Nana’s reach was wide. Pride fills me at the product of my grandmother’s life, at the number of lives she touched.
“Queen Elizabeth II said ‘Grief is the price we pay for love.’ Our grief today is proof of the love we knew for Olivia Ruth Wagner. Many of you knew her as Ruthie. I called her Nana.” Liv catches my eyes, silent tears streaming down her face at the loss and mention of her namesake. Leah wraps an arm around her from one side, Randi’s arm snaking in from the other side .
“To you she was a friend, a colleague, a damn good cook.” My mother inhales sharply, while many in the crowd nod. “She made the best chicken noodle soup when I was sick. She mastered Bridge and Rummy, the art of a pick-me-up when you needed comfort, and coincidentally a stern talking-to when you needed to get your ass in gear.” A few soft chuckles fill the space, drowning out Stephanie’s huff.
“But to me…to me, she was home. Summers filled with endless sleepovers, lessons in cooking, and countless hours watching trashy TV. Her doing, not mine.” Liv and Randi laugh knowingly from the front and Leah is grinning, sharing in my memories of sleepovers in the past.
“She was the teller of so many amazing stories. I always thought she had the most fascinating childhood...I wish I could hear her tell just one more.” My breaths are labored. I look around the room, filled with people who knew and loved my grandmother. The pews are full and many are standing along the back wall. A few dab their eyes with tissues and my focus lands on my pack on the podium.
Inhaling deeply, I draw my eyes up, preparing to go on, when I lock eyes with Sutton. He’s positioned toward the back of the room, a chocolate felt Stetson in hand and his sandy hair in gentle disarray. There’s something kind in his eyes, supportive.
“And she was the reader of bedtime stories, too. Her voice was the perfect instrument for sharing a myriad of tales. I’d like to share an excerpt from one of our favorites now.” The excerpt from Nana’s favorite story, Winnie the Pooh , rolls easily off my tongue, having heard it so many times as a child. The sentiment that she will always be in my heart, though not near, causes a fat tear to escape as I reach the final line. I bat it away.
I step down from the podium, blowing a kiss at Nana’s photo perched nearby. Liv and Leah make room for me to sit again and Randi reaches around Liv to squeeze my knee. It reminds me of Nana and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. I lean my head onto Leah’s shoulder as she wraps an arm around me. Liv leans into me from the other side.
The minister offers a few more heartfelt words and closes the service with an invitation to the graveside, then to Nana’s house for a farewell lunch. I blow out a huge breath trying to compose myself.
Following the graveside service, I send Leah home. I’m secretly hopeful that the less people who join us for lunch, the less time we’ll have to spend with those that do. Maybe they’ll be bored of our faces and leave quickly. My internal levee is crumbling bit by bit.
Having foregone the graveside service to meet the catering team, Alan is the only one at the house when we arrive. Everything is executed flawlessly, and though the mood is somber, the setup is beautiful and inviting.
Somewhat cloudy skies and a moderate temperature leave us without the need for jackets and give us a reprieve from sweating. The expansive front lawn is interrupted by tables covered in the palest yellow tablecloths, surrounded by metal folding chairs. Stephanie somehow manages not to have a complete nuclear reaction to them. The breeze lifts the skirts of the tables periodically and the leaves whisper in response.
Despite the gourmet food present, I can’t bring myself to eat. Any hunger I may experience is overshadowed by the feeling of being in a fish bowl. There isn’t a moment when someone doesn’t want to talk to me, anyway. I’m ecstatic when I can slip away to the restroom alone .
After washing my hands, I soak in a few silent moments, splashing water on my tired face. My blank reflection stares at me from the mirror.
Someone tries the handle of the door. “One moment.”
I take one more steadying breath, dry my hands, and open the bathroom door. Andi stands on the other side, her sandy hair falling past her shoulders. Her eyes brighten when she sees me. “Maci.” Everything about her is warm.
“Hi.” My pleased greeting comes naturally thanks to her welcomed presence. I maneuver into the hallway to allow her to pass, but she doesn’t move toward the bathroom. I resist heading toward the chatter in the living room.
“How are you?” Her words are genuine, infused with care. She’s not asking because it’s the right thing to do, but because she wants to know. At least, that’s how she makes me feel. For once, I’m tempted to answer truthfully.
“It’s been hard. But that’s expected.” I don’t force a smile like I have with everyone else. There’s no pressure to be okay.
“You two were close.” Her observation hits close and I bite my lip. I summed up our relationship as best as I could today. I can’t afford to go into more detail.
Andi gives me a moment of quiet. As if thinking of something, her eyes trace along the photos hanging on the wall. “I think it’s been about fifteen years or more. Ruthie brought you over to my house once or twice to play Bunco. You may have even played with my little girl.”
Her hands clasp in front of her, hinting that she probably wants to reach out to me, but doesn’t. This restraint gives me more comfort than she knows.
“I doubt you know this, but your grandmother was at my house the night I got the call about my daughter being in the hospital.” Her bright eyes slip to the floor in memory. “My daughter, Samantha, was pregnant with our first grandbaby. A little girl.” Her mouth tips up wistfully and she draws her eyes back up to mine. My heart clenches and I expect the worst.
“Everyone was on their way out. I hosted Bunco that month.” Her story isn’t hurried, but her words pick up. “My son-in-law called—which was odd because, although we have a wonderful relationship, he didn’t usually call. Sammi did.”
She digs in her purse for a moment before removing a thin, black wallet. After unlatching it, she turns it to show me a photo without explanation.
A gorgeous young woman, looking close in age to me, beams widely back at the camera. Her dark hair is tucked into a black graduation cap and falls over the matching gown, with a deep green sash over her shoulder. The resemblance between the two is obvious, despite the dark hair color, which must come from her dad.
“She’s beautiful.” I meet Andi’s eyes and hope for a pleasant end to this story. Whether she knows it or not, she’s allowed me to focus on someone else’s heartache instead of my own. To lean in, instead of pulling back.
“That was her graduation day. Baylor.” She beams in opposition to her watery eyes, then closes the wallet and places it back into her purse. “Justin, my son-in-law, let me know Sammi had been admitted to the hospital. She’d had a stroke as a complication of undiagnosed pre-eclampsia.”
My mouth threatens to drop open, but I catch it and reach forward without thinking to squeeze her hand. She gives me an appreciative squeeze back. “The baby, Viviane, was okay. It was an emergency c-section.”
She’s quiet for long enough that I’m not sure if she plans to, or can, go on. “I’m so sorry your family had to go through that. Is your daughter okay?” I’m terrified to ask, but also hopeful she wouldn’t have brought up something she isn’t ready to discuss .
“She’s home now. Justin was amazing, taking care of Viviane and caring for Sammi. He’s such a wonderful dad. We go up as often as we can.”
She smiles at me. “I don’t know what I would have done without Ruthie that day. I was determined to get in my car and drive right to Dallas, but she talked me into waiting until my husband, Michael, could get home and we could go together. She was right, too. I was in no condition to drive.”
“I’m so glad she was there for you. Thank you for sharing with me.” For a moment, I’m frustrated at my lack of words. Why is it that ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ can’t always convey what they need to, and yet they are so often all that can be offered?
“I’ll let you get back to everyone else. It was good to see you again. I can see why Ruthie was so incredibly proud of you.”
My heart swells. My grief is momentarily overshadowed by pride.
“Thanks for coming,” I say with a smile and gesture awkwardly to the bathroom as if Andi needs my permission to enter. If she notices, she doesn’t let on.
The living room has cleared out, though I notice more bouquets throughout the space as I head outside.
“Fabulous.” I backtrack into the living room. “More fucking flowers.”
It smells like a floral shop again and the mix of flowers invades my sinuses.
Rearranging vases, I catch a glimpse of Stephanie’s head swiveling back and forth on the front lawn through the front window. No doubt looking for me.
The screen door thumps closed. I sigh heavily and turn from the window braced to head into the crowd. I’ve reached my quota of somber words.
Sutton stands in the entry, eyes on me.
“Sutton, hi.” Surprise fills my words. What a greeting .
He removes his hat, holding it before him like he did at the funeral home.
“Maci.” He greets me in that cordial, southern way, giving nothing away as to what he could be thinking. Though, I suspect it’s that I need professional help.
Coming into the foyer, I gesture to the hall. “Your mom is in the bathroom.”
His eyes follow the motion briefly before coming back to me. “I wasn’t looking for her.” He assesses the living room. “Giving the flowers hell again?”
My cheeks heat and a rush of adrenaline floods my chest. “I—"
He chuckles and raises his hands in supplication. “No judgment here.”
I manage a small smile as he studies my face, like he’s contemplating saying something. His eyes flit back and forth between mine and the necklace from Nana. Instinctively, I grab it and drag the stone along the chain.
“I was on the front porch.” He jerks his chin over his shoulder and my eyes follow. Through the window, the tired swing glides back and forth, empty. “I thought I heard you in here talking to yourself.”
My cheeks flame again and one side of his mouth quirks up as he breaks eye contact briefly. I’m unsure if it’s for his benefit or mine.
“I just wanted to check on you.” His interest seems different than Andi’s. Though no less authentic.
“Thank you.” My heart beats erratically in my chest. “Yes, I do tend to talk to myself. No need to worry. It’s only a problem if I answer.”
This time, I’m rewarded with a grin and my stupid heart does a somersault. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Andi rounds the corner then and stops abruptly to avoid running into us. “Oh! Sutton.” She looks between us. “Are you ready? ”
“Whenever you are.” His deep voice and the way he treats his mom does things to my insides. Things my insides have no business thinking about on a day like today.
My pocket vibrates.
Andi offers a small wave. Sutton gestures for her to pass him and lead down the steps before he tips his head in a silent farewell. I press my lips into a tight smile.
When they’re both in Sutton’s truck, I check my messages.
Izzy:
I love you so much. You have all my strength today.
Brunch next week when I’m back?
Leah:
Yes, please.
Me:
Perfect.
When the final guest departs, Stephanie and Alan ensure the catering team is clearing everything to their liking. Randi, Liv, and I ignore the clattering of dishes and rolling of carts out to the small refrigerated truck hidden by the garage as we say goodbye in the front yard.
“What time would you like us to come over tomorrow?” Randi calls lightly to her sister. Tension builds inside me. I discovered while looking over the will that Nana excluded Stephanie from any inheritance, so long as she’s married to Alan. Not only was I thoroughly surprised, but I don’t see Stephanie leaving him. This threatens to be a massive sore spot .
The task outlined for tomorrow is daunting at best, especially after the emotional struggles today, but we have limited time to discuss the items within Nana’s house. According to the will, Randi has final say over the house and anything in it, while Stephanie and Alan are married. Although probate hasn’t started and nothing should leave the house, the sisters have agreed to sort through sentimental items.
Stephanie’s face gives away no hint of emotion. “As soon as you’re ready. We’ll sort through what’s needed and leave the rest for the professionals. Alan spoke with a company this morning who will come by and pack whatever is left and disperse it where needed.”
My eyes snap to the ground and I shake my head in disbelief. What could make a daughter so apathetic to the loss of their mother? Sadly, I have an idea. But that’s never been the nature of Nana.
When I look up, Liv is staring at me with wide eyes and a sick look on her face. Her thoughts must mimic my own.
Randi manages to maintain her composure—how, I can’t be sure, because my sweet aunt is on the precipice of an emotional breakdown. “We’ll be over by eight. You and I can discuss what you want to take, but I’m not getting rid of anything at this point.” Randi and Liv depart without another word, climbing into Randi’s SUV.
“Mother would’ve been pleased at the turnout,” Stephanie declares and I draw my gaze from the driveway, settling my stare on my mother and step-father again.
I force a dip of my chin in response. The entire town has bolstered her ego this afternoon with comments on how beautiful the reception turned out. I will be damned before I add fuel to that inferno. In truth, it was a well-executed event. Unfortunately, I can’t say so because while Stephanie doesn’t need to have anyone on her side to believe in the validity of her thoughts and statements; if even one person favors her position, then it will be a cold day in Hell before she’ll back down. So I keep my thoughts to myself, knowing none of it was done for the right reason, anyway.
“It’s been a long day, I’m going to rest.” I don’t pause for a response as I head into the house.