31. Ophelia
The next two days pass quietly, which is strange, and, if I’m honest, a little worrying. Something is coming. I feel it.
There’s no mention of Ethan, and Silas doesn’t try to keep me from calling my dad or anyone else as long as I stay in the house with him. He’s distracted, checking his phone often and making calls from the study, but tells me it’s nothing every time I ask what it is.
He feels it too, I think, that this is not over. The worst is yet to come and we’re both just waiting for it.
The night before the funeral, I decide I need to go. I expect an argument and am ready to tell him that my father will be there, that nothing will happen to me at the funeral, but I don’t need to use any of those arguments because Silas acquiesces.
“We’ll meet your father at the church,” he says. The funeral will be in Sinistral.
“Okay,” I say quickly and call my dad to tell him the plan before Silas changes his mind.
The funeral is late in the afternoon. It’s a rainy, dreary day and I put on a black dress and leather boots and pull my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck. Silas wears a dark suit. Hamish stays at the brownstone. He’s pretty much there all the time except overnight.
“The police haven’t found anything new?” I ask when we’re in the car and heading toward Sinistral.
“Not that I know but I doubt they’d tell me.”
“Nigella seems to have a way of finding things out.”
He glances at me. “She does. But not this time. Not yet anyway.”
That’s all he says so I drop it. When we near the church, we find the parking lot is full and two men are directing overflow.
“Wow.” I’m surprised at the turnout although I guess I shouldn’t be. The Sullivan Fox the public knows is a very different man than the one I came to know.
“If they knew what a prick he was,” Silas mutters under his breath. I text my dad, who tells me he’s already waiting at the doors for us.
We park and Silas climbs out, getting the umbrella out of the trunk and coming to my side once he opens it. Dad meets us near the doors of the church. Seeing the hearse parked in front is a strange sight. It’s been almost a week since Sly’s death, but the reality of it hasn’t hit me, not like it does right now.
Heads turn when we enter, and I feel Silas step closer to me, hand around the nape of my neck, always there, ready to pounce on anyone he deems a threat. But it’s not me or us they’re looking at. It’s Dad. I’m sure more than a few of them float the idea that it may have been Dad to pull the trigger of the gun that killed Sly. I squeeze Dad’s hand and he gives me a wink. He knows and I don’t think he cares.
The coffin is at the front of the church. Open casket. Will we all be expected to walk by to pay our respects? Given the way he died, I wasn’t expecting that, but Silas doesn’t miss a step as we walk up the aisle, Dad behind us, following the procession of people. There must be several hundred in the church.
When we get to the front, the procession slows, and I turn to find Mira sitting in the front pew dressed in a vintage Chanel suit, her legs crossed, one foot rocking back and forth. Her heels must be four-inch-high stilettos and a small black hat with lace netting is perched at an angle on her head, the intricate pattern of the lace hiding her eyes. When she turns her head to look at us, I see her perfectly applied makeup, the bright red lips. She looks glamorous and stunning, actually—like no wife should look at her husband’s funeral, but then again, I don’t think anyone knew the dynamics of their marriage or what happened behind closed doors.
Ethan’s gaze falls on Silas and when it does, I see how his eyes narrow. He has a black eye and a bruise along his jaw. Mira exchanges hurried words with him, and he steps out of the aisle to talk to one of the men, who seems to be directing things.
Dad steps forward, blocking my view of Ethan. It’s our turn to walk up to the casket.
Silas is first. I watch the side of his face as he looks inside but he is unreadable. He shows no emotion, and I wonder what he feels to see this man, who was his father no matter how he felt about him, lying in a casket. The church goes silent as if everyone is collectively holding their breath. I’m sure the gossips will begin spinning all kinds of tales. The fact that he was Sly’s illegitimate son was widely known even if it wasn’t ever talked about.
Silas looks at me, eyebrows raised, and I nod and take my turn to look in on Sly for the last time. I’m not sure what I expect to see. He’d been shot between the eyes, but he just looks like he’s sleeping. Paler than usual maybe but the bullet hole is expertly hidden. If he wasn’t in a casket, I wouldn’t believe he was dead.
I wondered what was going on in Silas’s head at seeing Sly dead, but now, as I look down at him for the last time, I wonder if it’s wrong that I don’t feel anything for the man. He spent his life doing so much damage, causing so much harm to so many people, that I’m glad I don’t feel anything. Not even hate.
My dad clears his throat, and we move on, Dad pausing for a minute at the coffin, his face hard.
An attendant guides us back down an aisle to an open pew. Dad and I slide in but before Silas can follow, that man Ethan was talking to holds out an arm to block Silas’s path.
“Sir, Mrs. Fox asks that you leave the ceremony.”
“Excuse me?”
He clears his throat. “It’s a delicate time. I’m sure you understand.”
Silas opens his mouth to protest but the heavy doors of the church clang closed, and organ music signals the service is about to begin. Pews creak as people begin to rise to their feet.
“Sir. We’ll need you to come this way,” the man says more urgently.
Silas looks like he’s about to put up a fight, but then he’s distracted by a notification on his phone, and what he sees has him change his mind.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” he says and walks down the side aisle and out of the church. I watch him go, as do many others, and I’m glad I can’t hear what they’re saying over the music. I silence my phone and don’t meet anyone’s eyes.
The service is long, and so many people get up to speak about what a wonderful man Sullivan Fox was. Mira doesn’t give a eulogy, but Ethan does and when he takes a moment to wipe his eyes, I remember the Ethan that stood outside the house a few days ago, hoodie over his head, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. His eyes bloodshot from crying. But he pulls himself together quickly and soon the speeches are over, and I’m relieved because the church suddenly feels stifling.
The closing of the casket sends a shudder through me. It’s over for Sullivan Fox. The end. It’s a strange reality that will come for all of us.
My dad looks at me with eyebrows raised, and I realize I shed a tear. I wipe it away and we all stand as the priest gives his final blessing and tells us to follow the procession to the cemetery behind the church. The pallbearers carry the coffin down the aisle and toward the double doors of the church. Mira and Ethan follow, and people fall in line as they pass their pews.
I put my coat on as our pew empties into the aisle and once we’re outside, I expect Silas to be there waiting for me, but he’s not. I wonder if they asked him to leave the grounds altogether as I share my father’s umbrella to walk to the burial site. We’re a few feet away when I hear someone excusing himself and turn to find Hamish heading toward us.
“Hamish?”
“Mrs. Cruz. Mr. Cruz asked me to take you home.”
“Where is he?”
“He was called away, but I’ll take you home. Now,” he says, and the look on his face tells me there will be no arguing.
We step out of the way of others, and I call Silas, who answers on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“Nigella needed me. There may be something.”
“What?”
“Not sure yet but I’ll tell you when I see you. Hamish should be there. I sent you a text. You didn’t see it?”
“My phone was silenced during the service, and I hadn’t looked, but Hamish is here.”
“Good. Go home with him, Ophelia. Please.”
“Okay.” I didn’t want to see the burial anyway, honestly. “But you’re going to explain everything when you’re home once and for all. Agreed?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Agreed.”
I disconnect.
“Come on, Phee. It’s over. Let’s go,” Dad says.
I glance at the grave site and am glad Ethan and Mira are talking to someone and slip away, into the SUV with Hamish with my dad following us to the brownstone.