Chapter 2 – Rory #3
“Did he know that? What better revenge then to kill the daughter, or wife, of the president or the vice-president? It didn’t matter who killed Eliza.”
“But Gypsy didn’t!” Rory cried. “She wasn’t even at the club that night. You didn’t even know what happened.”
“All true, but I am a close associate of the club. Gypsy was close friends with the wives of the president and the sergeant-at-arms.”
Covering his face, unable to erase the images from the video he’d seen, Rory started to sob again. Derby didn’t speak. He just allowed Rory’s overwhelming sorrow to pour out.
“She deserves to be honored,” Rory said in a choked voice, a few minutes later as he dropped his hands.
Derby slid a roll of paper towels to him and waited until he wiped his cheeks and blew his nose.
“You should’ve celebrated her life. Publicly acknowledged and applauded her sacrifice.”
“Maybe,” Derby finally admitted. “It wouldn’t have brought her back, though.”
“But it would’ve allowed the people who loved her to properly mourn her. She doesn’t even have a gravesite I can visit or any type of memorial. Wouldn’t your kids appreciate that?”
“S’ppose so,” he said, a hint of sadness darkening his eyes.
“You’d just have to say one or two words,” Rory suggested. “Then you can leave, but it has to be here, a place where she was loved. Please, Derby? She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten, thrown aside as if she meant nothing to no one. She had people who truly cared about her.”
“I’ll think about it,” Derby said, getting to his feet.
The answer made Rory feel as if he’d failed Gypsy. He was certain that the moment he left, Derby would brush aside the request.
The rattling of keys drew Rory’s attention to the cabinet. Derby unlocked it and withdrew a pair of earrings, then brought it to Rory.
“We had a set once.” Derby pointed to his ear with a barely visible hole in the lobe. “I took mine out and threw it away to punish her.” He held out the gold studs that Gypsy loved. “Bought her these when we made up. Take ‘em, kid. I don’t think she’d mind if you had them.”
Rory stared at them, remembering them in her ears, quite noticeable when she swept up her hair. She’d take them out here and there, but they always ended up back in her lobes. He never knew why. Until now.
Derby waited patiently, hand out, much more sympathetic than Dad. Or Mom. Sniffling, he took the jewelry and laid them in his palm, the earrings special to him because they meant so much to her.
“Gypsy wouldn’t want you so devastated. Your sadness and tears dishonor her memory.”
He fisted the earrings and glared at Derby. “I beg to differ.”
“She loved to have fun once, Rory. She could party, laugh, drink, and cuss with the best of them. She was the loudest and the raunchiest. That Gypsy? The one who captured my attention? Seeing you in such a state would upset her.”
Remaining silent, Rory considered the words, unable to dispute them. He hadn’t known that Gypsy. He’d just known the woman chased by sadness and lost dreams. He nodded. “Okay,” he croaked.
“How’d you get here?”
“An Uber,” Rory responded, losing the brief connection he’d felt to Derby, when he thought he was mourning Gypsy with the same intensity as him.
“Come on. I’ll bring you back to the club.”
“My bike’s racked at Hortensia Mall.”
“Then I’ll take you there.”
Rory stood and started toward the door, halting in front of the cabinet with the urn containing Gypsy’s ashes. A photo of her when she was younger rested against it.
“Hey, Gypsy.” He ran his finger over the glass door.
It was so cold, unlike Gypsy’s warmth. “Remember when we listened to your mother’s old vinyls?
Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, and Barbra Streisand?
Tony Bennett? Remember your old vinyls? Fleetwood Mac and Elton John?
Your favorite was that album by The Carpenters.
I wish I could dance with you again. Just once more.
The way you wanted that last time. I would never have stormed out of your apartment.
You mattered Gypsy. To me. To Aunt Meggie and Aunt Bunny.
To your kids.” He glanced over his shoulder at Derby’s despair, then turned back to the cabinet and leaned his head against the glass, hoping to give it a little warmth.
For her. “You mattered to Derby, too. I hope you know that now. I hope you see him or hear me. I hope you know I will be forever grateful that you gave your life to make Wally, Jr. pay.” He pocketed the earrings. “I-I will never forget you.”
“Rory?” Derby called.
Rory merely nodded, too overcome to speak.
“I will see if the funeral home can…I’ll ask them to…I’ll take her urn to them and ask if they’d put a small amount of her ashes in a container for you. Will that make you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“The kids don’t have her taste in music. I have her vinyls in storage. Would you like them?”
“Yes,” Rory responded, backing away from the cabinet and facing Derby. The club president had been much more patient than he’d ever expected. “Thank you.”
Derby gave a semblance of a smile. “No, thank you, kid,” he said and headed toward the door, not explaining the meaning of those cryptic words.