Chapter 11
LANEY
S at on the cold pew of the abandoned Church on the outskirts of Great Tenor, I wished I were anywhere else. There were so many things that I wanted to have told Tilly. I was sure she would know the answer to my Kenna question. She would talk me down from my anxiety about the impending war—a war she was a casualty of. It was a realisation that struggled to compute with my worldview.
Father was beside me, but his impassive face looked no different than on the average occasion. We were in the second row. Tilly’s husband sat directly in front of me, his eyes red from restraint, as his arm wrapped around Tilly’s mother. The sight caused the kind of devastation in my heart that left a mark. I’d already cried this morning, but it wasn’t enough to cleanse the hole in my gut.
Nothing could erase the damage. In times like these, I yearned for Grandfather’s warm hug. It was already a rare moment in his self-isolation when I could feel his enveloping presence, but the absence of him hollowed my heart. I’d hoped that Kenna could be that calming pillar in my life, perhaps, naively.
The ceremony was small. Only those that directly knew her were invited.
Neenan stood on patrol at the side of the Church. He gave me a glance every now and then, checking for tears. I knew he kept an extra handkerchief in his pocket just for me.
The pastor placed his book down on a stand to the left of the closed casket, causing a hush across all the attendees and a stabbing sob from Tilly’s mother. This was happening. Too quick. “It saddens me to be gathered here today for the loss of such a young life–” The pastor began, sharing stories and anecdotes of the way she impacted us all.
I held strong until my name was mentioned, releasing the floodgates of grief that I had suppressed. With it, an insidious sense of emptiness returned to my gut. I had no one left. Who did I have now that she was gone? Why did I need the comfort of others so badly? Stupid!
I bowed my head and cried into my hands. My father didn’t move to console me. Not even Neenan came to give me his handkerchief. Stupid girl, no one cares.
“…her joy brought smiles to the saddest sods,” Tilly’s husband murmured through his speech. “But she is brightest when she is in front of Georgia. God, her eyes glazed over when she was in sight. My baby… ”
Tears streamed, and through my blurred eyes, I saw a darkened figure sit down beside me and placed a black handkerchief on my lap, each corner inscribed with a decorative ‘K’. I blinked a few times, and I was grateful for the momentary distraction, but then I examined the hand that now gripped my knee in comfort, it made me shiver. I knew that hand and I loathed it.
It belonged to Logan Novelli. My ex-husband.
I sniffed aggressively in the most unladylike way and shifted to be closer to Father.
“The girl over there told me to give this to you. You looked like you needed it.” He said in a tone the least bit appropriate for a funeral. Did he even know her?
But then he pointed at the girl where she sat in the back corner of the Church by the entrance. Kenna. She came.
“I’m sorry about Tilly, she was a nice girl.” Logan had very little empathy, a quality that Father admired about him, but I despised.
I tried to focus on the service, but Logan continued to whisper in my ear. He was a physically powerful man, six foot four, athletic and trigger-happy as an ex-military man who was discharged for unlawful roughness. “Did you miss me? I bet–”
“SSHHH!”
Heads turned toward me, my cheeks blushed but anger surged into me when I saw the smug and confident refrain on Logan’s face. I wanted to slap him. Time and place, Laney. Time and place.
Maybe I didn’t want to sit here and succumb to my grief in front of the entire estate and my family, but I certainly will not allow Logan Novelli to ruin the remembrance of my dearest companion and cousin. It should only be a shame on him for his behaviour. However, in my world, a woman’s moral character was dictated by the value they have to the men that surround them. I will not be held accountable to the assholery of this man due to our prior arrangement.
I felt the anger heaving and boiling over, but my face remained still. I learnt that from Father. In fact, I mimicked him now as he blankly stared ahead, unaware or inconsiderate to the vile man that he let into my life.
Logan fisted my dress between his fingers, lifting it with it. I attempted to lean away from him, but my leg was already pressed against Father’s.
I was stuck. Still, I yanked my dress from his grip, but stilled when I saw the rose quartz encrusted band that sat on his finger—o ur wedding ring . I threw mine in a lake years ago. Why did he still have it on?
The Novelli Dynasty was an infamous Italian mafia family that resided on the Southernly coast of England. They played a vital part in Ravencroft victory against the Karsteins after the fissure as our silent partner. It was pure strategy to wed the two of us, but we never consummated the marriage. Not for lack of trying on his part.
It’s a loss that I’m not certain Father has recovered from and was likely the reason he didn’t seem to care about Logan’s handsy pandering now.
“Get. Off.” I grit out.
He returned a coy smirk. His grip tightened on my leg.
“Are you done pissing me off?” I asked.
“Never.”
Quickly, I reached into my sock to retrieve a little knife and stabbed it into his hand atop my knee. His blood dripped onto my dress as the funeral service was playing its last song. Thank fuck, I’m wearing black.
“Bitch,” He cursed, but still didn’t move his hand.
I moved to stab him again. But he grabbed my wrist, blood trickling down his arm and smeared on mine.
“Do not.” He warned. If the wound hurt, he didn’t let it show, but returned his arm to his lap, mopping up the blood with his black pocket square.
The last note of the song marked the end of the service. Quiet chatter filled the room again as most people got up to leave. I was so occupied with Logan’s unexpected presence that I hadn’t noticed Tilly’s family in front of me, huddled together, exchanging hugs and kisses now as tears still readily flowed.
I went to stand too, but Logan blocked my way, turning his entire chest to face me. Anger reignited in my heart, and I shoved at his shoulder, kicked his legs and did everything besides yelling in his ear. I wanted to slap him.
So, I did. Well, I tried to.
In that moment, Logan was pulled back on the pew roughly and a fist entered his face.
I flinched, but not in fear. I looked up to see the attacker had long dark brown, almost black, hair that shimmered brown in certain lights and fell to just below her shoulders. A smile appeared on my face without thought. Seeing Logan get punched was the best moment of my life, I’m not even sad that I wasn’t the one who threw it.
My smile turned into a full on anxiety laugh as Kenna offered an extended hand to help me step over Logan who had crumpled to the floor from the weight of the punch—total smackdown. I’m impressed.
Quickly, I remembered my surroundings and noticed the room hadn’t entirely emptied out after Tilly’s funeral. Father watched keenly but made no move to help me or Logan in this situation. Neenan had inched closer but was pulled away into a hushed discussion with his father.
I took Kenna’s hand, and with her help I climbed onto the pew in my short heels and stepped over Logan’s cowering body. A small puddle of blood had formed below where I sat. At that moment, I noticed that Logan wasn’t complaining or groaning.
“Did you knock him out cold?” I said in a mix of disbelief and admiration.
She shrugged in response. Still hand in hand, she guided me off of the pew onto solid ground. I looked up at her through my lashes. It was like I was in a happy state of shock, outwardly I schooled my expression for the circumstance, but internally, I was screaming love for this girl.
I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Too soon. It was too much. Too much of a fantasy, the miserable hope, which had kept me stagnant and captive and longing for the day Kenna would return to save me. To cure my chronic loneliness. It wasn’t rational, and it wasn’t as if she had done anything in particular to earn my trust, but this felt like a new leaf.
Take me away. I pleaded with my eyes that were still on hers.
She got the memo and pulled me out the door into the surrounding woods. We were far from Great Tenor and much further from the Ravencroft Estate. I didn’t say that though, and I didn’t care either.
The forest enveloped us whole. Faintly, I heard my name shouted but ignored it, blindly following my teenage phantom as she led me into darkness. Once the Church became out of sight and once the whimsical tune of distant songbirds replaced the voices of cadets, Kenna dropped my hand. And with it, my lethargic dreaming was erased from my mind so it could face reality.
This was a girl who had lied to me. And my final goodbye to the one girl I trusted had been ruined by a man.
I needed my best friend, and I would never see her again. I wanted to see Kenna in the image of my best friend so that she could be the grounded and trusted friend that I needed right now but she wasn’t. Nothing could replace the bright, beautiful girl that will be soon cocooned in the cold earth.
No. No. Stay. I began to whimper. Tilly. Breathe in. Oh, my Lord, Tilly and her husband. Breathe out. Her family, God , I’ll never see them again. Breathe in. And her face and her ideas. Breathe out. Companionship, gone with the wind. A drop fell onto my head, and I flinched so hard I almost stumbled.
And Logan! Jesus, who invited Logan. Calm. What does he want? Down. Was it not over? Calm. I need it to be over. Down. The ring. Breathe. Please. Please. Please. Just one day. “Laney?” A soft voice interjected. “In. Hold…two…three…four. Out.”
And Father. Oh my, why doesn’t he care? Calm. What did I do? The. I need. Fuck. I want. Down.
“Kenna,” I grabbed her arm, leaning all my weight on it. I felt lethargic all over again just not in a happy-go-lucky kinda way. A fresh scent clung to her like she had traversed a forest of pine trees and fallen into a pile of tea tree leaves. I focused on that, but I couldn’t help the barrage of conflicting emotion that was escalating my breathing at an alarming rate.
I need to stop. I want to stop. Let me stop. Please. “I’m going to faint.”
Barely audible, I heard, “I’ll catch you.” Before the world went dark.