Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Hennessy: You don’t drown by falling in the water. You drown by staying there.
“This is crazy,” I muttered under my breath.
“Tell me about it,” Elizabeth replied. “This estate has been in my family for generations.”
“I can see that.”
“Don’t let it intimidate you, Hennessy. Your uncle never did.”
She was being overly nice to me, and I wondered if my uncle had something to do with that.
Or does Onyx?
I remembered how everyone kept warning me not to speak unless spoken to. I listened that time, not wanting to stir any more problems than I already had.
Especially with Onyx.
I stood in the background with my hands at my sides, taking it all in, desperately trying not to fidget.
A bunch of guests filled what they called the banquet hall.
The mahogany double doors led to a massive room with a three- to four-story ceiling.
A huge fireplace was lit in the center of the room, but it was the portrait above it that got my attention the most.
It was their family portrait. Onyx and Deja were little, maybe four and five years old, dressed in matching outfits while their father stood behind them. This was the first time I was seeing their parents. She was beautiful, sitting in a chair in front of their dad, with the kids on her lap.
Mr. Devereaux was handsome, though he appeared stern and dark in the portrait. He wasn’t exuding the love their mother did.
Mrs. Devereaux was looking down at her children with nothing but love in her eyes. She looked like a happy, loving family. Their father not so much. From the other portraits, it seemed there was a theme among the men: moody, mysterious, and a bit sinister.
I truly wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t imagine a family not loving each other. It didn’t seem natural to me.
The room was packed with people, yet you couldn’t tell from the extravagant, wide-open space. The Thanksgiving decorations were lovely, filled to the brim with flowers and decadence.
Simple yet tasteful, what I imagined generational wealth would look like.
“Hennessy!” Deja greeted, coming up behind me. Her gaze trailed mine as she fondly revealed, “My mother loved to dress us in matching outfits. You should see our photo albums.”
I peered at the side of her face as her tone shifted to sadness. “I don’t remember much about her.”
“How old were you—”
Glancing at me, she interrupted, “Five. Onyx was six.”
I swallowed hard, listening intently. I wanted to ask her what happened to her mother, but her voice was distant. I didn’t want to cause her more heartache. She wouldn’t tell me anyway.
She stared back at the portrait. “My mother was always so chic, so flawless… she was the light of this house until she wasn’t.
Or that’s what everyone says anyway.” Standing there reminiscing right before my eyes, she recalled, “She used to sing to us. She loved to hum… sometimes I still hear her through the halls, her gentle lulling…” She nervously chuckled, sweeping her hair behind her ear.
“That’s crazy, right? Why would I hear her? ”
I gently caressed her arm, making her look at me.
“That’s not crazy at all.” I comforted her the only way I knew how.
“Where I’m from, the dead remain part of the family and are honored through music, food, and prayer.
Our loved ones are always watching over us.
I’m sure my father is over me too.” With a solemn expression, I professed, “Unfortunately, some loved ones don’t get to pass over, and they stay somewhere between, stuck in limbo. ”
“I’d hate that for her,” she rasped with earnest eyes. “Having to stay, trapped in these walls.”
“Deja,” I warily spoke. “Onyx told me about your future…”
“Yeah.” She smiled through the sorrow in her gaze. “Hopefully he has a big dick.”
I choked on my drink, laughing.
We were silent for a minute until she acknowledged, “We all have our crosses to bear, Hennessy. It is what it is.”
“And what if you don’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“This arranged marriage, what if you don’t go through with it?”
She laughed, flatly stating, “I’d die.” Her tone was serious despite the laughter. “Well, more like sacrificed, but you get the picture.”
“But they’re already sacrificing you, Deja.”
Her expression faltered as she contemplated the truth. As quick as it was there, she defaulted back into the chameleon she was. “I could always run away, try to start a new life… maybe they’d never find me.”
“It would make Onyx very sad to lose you like that.”
“Yeah…” she breathed out.
“I’m sorry, Deja, I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know.” She rubbed my shoulder. “I appreciate the gesture.”
“If you ever need to talk, you know, about anything, I’m here for you.”
She nodded in understanding. “You’re very kind, Hennessy. I really like that about you. I haven’t seen too much kindness in my life. If it weren’t for Onyx, I wouldn’t have anyone.”
“He loves you too, but what about your father? I’m sure—”
“Onyx has always been my father’s favorite, and that’s not saying much.”
“And your aunt?”
She shrugged. “She’s had her moments over the years. She taught me how to put on makeup, do my hair, told me about my body changing and you know… some girl things.”
“You’re lucky to have had her.”
“She’s tough. I wouldn’t exactly call her warm or loving, but she’s come through when I needed her.”
“I imagine it has to do with her upbringing.”
She nodded. “I know.” Changing the subject, she complimented, “That dress on you is spectacular.”
She was also wearing a black gown. Most of the women wore black outfits, as if it were a funeral rather than a Thanksgiving celebration. We didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Peru, but I knew what it was.
“Thank you, you look great too.”
Wiggling her eyebrows, she grabbed my hands. “Now let’s get you liquored up. You’re going to need it.” She escorted me to the bar.
I ordered a glass of wine, looking for my uncle, not finding him or Elizabeth in the crowd. In Peru, I would’ve been introduced to everyone, having to kiss each person on the cheek as if I’d known them all my life. People were welcoming, warm, and loving.
Here, everyone seemed cold. The men were with the men, the women with the women, each separated in their own cliques. I wondered where their direct family was. Again, I didn’t see anyone that resembled them.
Somehow, I found my way back to the family portrait, standing by the fireplace. Something about their parents was oddly familiar. I couldn’t place where I knew them from.
Sometime during the afternoon, I got bored.
There was only so many hor d’oeuvres I could eat. After a few hours, I still hadn’t seen Onyx, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up in his true rebellion form, provoking his father and embarrassing his family.
Deja excused herself. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time either. Without considering the consequences, I began to wander. It’s not like anyone would notice I was gone.
Pretentious laughter echoed through the halls with elevator music playing in the background, which was another thing that was different from my family and culture. Nobody was dancing or actually celebrating. No one was truly engaging.
No stories were being told, no bonds forming, no jokes that weren’t anything other than who was keeping up with the Joneses. Everything was toned down and perfected. Not one hair out of place. Everyone fit into this role they were expected to perform.
Which felt like a ritual in itself.
It was exhausting, and I’d only spoken to Deja.
Elizabeth said her family was excited to meet, and I hadn’t been introduced to anyone.
It was as if they’d forgotten all about me even being there, making me gloomier than I was already feeling.
I thought we were getting somewhere. I wondered if they’d even serve my food.
Did she make me cook for nothing?
The farther I ventured through the halls, the quieter it became.
Their mansion went on forever. I thought about trying to find Onyx’s suite, but I was lost, in more ways than one.
Every hallway led to another passage, every staircase to another wing.
The rooms appeared untouched, unlived in, preserved in such a way that I knew nobody had stepped in there other than to clean in decades.
It was almost suffocating how stunning but unloved everything was. They were just rooms, no heart behind them, no souls in them, just gaudy antiques that meant more to them than actual human beings.
I rounded another corridor, slowly running my fingers along the gold paneling, trying not to think, just feel. I saw a door that was different from the others. This one was older, painted in a faded ivory that had yellowed with age.
My feet came to a complete halt. Unsure why, I immediately felt drawn to this room. Something about it was hauling me to it, whether I wanted it to or not.
I cracked it open, catching my breath. There in front of my eyes was a playroom.
It wasn’t as pristine as the rest of the house.
It was lived in. The shelves were filled with children’s books, their spines all cracked and faded.
There were dolls, stuffed animals, blocks, and Legos.
The room had color, unlike the rest of the estate. I could feel the love it once held.
It was the glass music box that captured my stare. I stepped inside, going straight for it.
My chest tightened as I caught a glimpse of a memory, maybe…
There was a woman who grabbed my wrist, softly murmuring a lullaby under her breath.
Is that their mom?
It was only then I realized I’d opened the music box. The calming harmony filled the silent space, reminding me of what Deja had just shared about her mother humming.
Is this their mother’s music box?
I shut my eyes, allowing the melody to take over.
A woman was holding me in her arms. I felt her warmth.
Then…
SNAP!
The lid on the music box slammed shut, jolting me.
Shit…
I was caught.