Chapter Twenty-Six
“How you holdin’ up?” CarlieRae’s hand rubbed up and down her daughter’s back as they stood before the open casket.
Aurelia Quinlan looked like she was sleeping.
Well, Charity mused, if she slept in a face full of makeup, hair done up and dyed like she was going to meet the President, and hands clasped together in prayer, holding a family bible. But she did look peaceful.
“In all honesty, Mama?” Charity sniffed and wiped at her eyes with a tissue. “Not too good.”
CarlieRae, true to form, whipped Charity into her arms, gently rocking her against her body.
“I knew this day would come.” Charity sniffed. “Some day. Just didn’t expect it s’soon.”
“We never do expect it of the ones we love. The good Lord knows your Granny lived a long, full life, baby. Going to meet Him in her sleep, with all her wits, wisdom, and teeth, is a blessin’ we can all be thankful for. Just like we are to have had her in our lives for over ninety years.”
Charity nodded, leaning into her mother, grateful for the comfort.
“She was as much a mama to me as my own. That’s the Lord’s truth. Best mother-in-law ever.”
Charity sniffed.
Since the moment she’d answered her father’s call, she’d been moving like a cyclone gaining speed along calm water.
Once the shock of his words wore off and she understood her beloved grandmother had gone to Heaven, Charity pulled the logical, planning side of her brain front and center and squashed the emotional pain of the woman’s passing down deep.
The first call after hanging up with Rory had been to Colleen, who’d told her not to worry about a thing. She’d take care of the weekend wedding.
“But you’re on bedrest,” Charity said.
“Slade got me a wheelchair so I could maneuver around the house without putting stress on my legs. It’s motorized and I’m keeping it for afterward so I can chase the kidlets around. You go to your family. Me and Kolby can manage everything. Just send me your notes and finalized lists.”
“Will do.” The mention of Kolby and her flight from the restaurant shoved to the front of her head, but she pushed it back out again. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. We have another wedding next weekend.”
“Send me everything for that one, too, and do not – I repeat – do not worry about this. Family comes first, last and always.”
For the thousandth time since she’d begun working for the woman, Charity thanked God for Colleen.
The moment she flew through her apartment door, she emailed her boss the files she wanted, then booked a flight home. She packed, threw everything she needed into a bag and called car service to take her to the airport.
Two transfers after a red-eye flight to start it all off, and she landed at Gulfport-Biloxi airport.
Her fear of flying pushed front and center and she wished more than once that she had someone with her to talk her down from her crazy thoughts of crash landing or being hit by a lightning strike. Or worse: a bird one.
When she shut her eyes and prayed for strength, she pretended Kolby was sitting next to her just like he’d been on the Aruba flight, saying things to distract her.
Kolby. What had happened after she’d made her cowardly run from the restaurant? Liv had texted her several times and Charity explained about the emergency, making it seem like that was the reason she’d bolted. She’d tell her the truth once she got back to Heaven.
Pecker was her airport greeter. She took one look at him, his familiar hulk and height stretching across his uniform shirt, his face filled with sorrow, and she burst into tears.
He pulled her up into his arms like he had when she was a little girl and practically carried her to his car, all the while telling her it was going to be okay.
The moment she walked into her childhood home, the scents of home cooking and sounds of her family all talking at once, and she started crying again. Her parents took turns passing her back and forth between them as her brothers, their wives, and all her nieces and nephews hovered around her.
She didn’t even know what day it was when she finally heeded her mother’s advice to “Take to the bed for a few hours, Baby-girl. Your daddy and I are headin’ to the funeral home to check on the arrangements f’the viewin’.”
She’d slept, hard, for most of the day, woke, and then took a steaming shower. That was two days ago. They’d waked Granny last night, relatives and family friends coming from all over to pay their respects.
Now, Sunday afternoon, they were gearing up for the next round of afternoon calling hours, and visitors were set to be arriving shortly.
“I guess that is a blessin’,” Charity said, pulling back and swiping at her dripping nose. "We should go join Daddy and the boys. Get ready to greet everyone.”
Her mother’s perceptive eyes raked over Charity as she held her at arm’s length.
“Somethin’s up wit’ you, Baby-girl,” she declared, brows grooving, mouth pursing. “And it ain’t just grief over your Granny’s passin’.”
“Why do I always forget how perceptive you are?” Charity sniffed as she shook her head.
“I knew it. What’s goin’ on? Did somethin' happen?”
She wanted to spill everything to her mother about Kolby, Tom, everything. Use her as a sounding board, drink in all the good advice her mother usually gave. But now wasn’t the right time and she wasn’t in the best head space for it.
“I will, later. Promise.” she said. “Let’s just get through today an’tomorrow.”
“Okay, but don’t think I won’t be pesterin’ you about it. Whatever it is.”
“I know, Mama. I’ll tell. Promise.” She kissed her cheek.
An hour later and a headache was pounding at the back door of her brain.
Charity tried to sneak away from the viewing room for just a moment.
Despite the temperature in her hometown hovering around ninety, she needed some fresh air away from the pack of bodies doused in their finest clothes and most nauseating perfumes and colognes.
She should have expected this. She knew these people like the freckles on the back of her hand.
Nothing brought out the get-gussied-up’n-decked-out in your finest like a wake.
In addition, the combination of funeral flower arrangements added to her discomfort.
Seemed like everyone in town had sent something, either an enormous display of red roses – her granny’s favorite - or a bouquet of wildflowers in a vase.
It was all too much for Charity’s nasal receptors.
Tomorrow would be even worse, but the burial would be outdoors, so she’d hopefully get some relief from the sequestered smells.
Just as she made her way to the back of the room, stopping more than a dozen times to be hugged, kissed, petted over, and consoled by people she hadn’t seen in a decade, a familiar voice coming from the front entrance of the funeral home drifted to her ears.
Charity figured she was having an auditory hallucination brought on by the developing migraine because there was no way on God’s green earth Kolby O’Brian was in Floren’s Funeral Home.
She moved through the doorway and stopped short when she spotted the funeral home director and owner, Wallace Floren, known to one and all as Sniff because of his prominent proboscis, a family genetic trait passed down to all the Floren men for five generations – but thankfully, not the females of the clan, in deep conversation with a man who looked remarkably like her co-worker because. ..
Mid-stride, she slammed to a stop.
“Oh, sweet Baby Jesus and all the soulless babies in purgatory. What in the name of Lucifer and hell are you doin’here?”
Both men turned. Charity had never desired anything more than for a lightning bolt to shoot from the sky and zap her into oblivion at just that moment. Unfortunately, the local meteorologist hadn't called for any lightning strikes today.
“Charity Belle Quinlan.” Sniff’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pursing into a flat line of disapproval as he regarded her.
“Movin’ up North and living among them Yankees has destroyed yor manners.
What would yor granny think if she heard an outburst like that spill from yor lips?
Or yor dear mama? Both’d be mighty disappointed is what they’d be, I’ll tell ya. ”
Charity winced, her face heating. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I’m grievin' Granny something hard. I apologize.”
Sniff lifted his chin and...sniffed. “Remember yor Bible teachings, young lady. Now,” he shot a hand to his side, “This young man says he’s a friend a’yors.
” Charity almost laughed because she knew for a fact Sniff was only two years older than her coworker.
He pointed to Kolby who stood in place, staring at her like he hadn’t seen her in a decade.
“I was just about to direct him to Aurelia's viewin’ room.”
“I’ll take him. Thank you, Mr. Floren.” She took a step towards them on shaking legs. “If I forgot to mention it, Granny looks just stunnin’. You tell Maybelline she did a real lovely job, will ya?”
“I shall pass on yor praise,” he said, nodding like royal blood flowed through his veins.
He turned and walked toward the back of the establishment, spine stick straight, feet soundless as they glided over the plush carpet.
As soon as they were alone, Kolby bounded to her.
“Belle?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Mama watched the movie every day she was pregnant with me.”
Kolby nodded, then ticked his head toward Floren’s way.
“He kinda looks like Lurch from the old Addams family tv show, you know?”
She almost laughed because that’s exactly who Sniff had always reminded her of.
The man had looked the same for the past twenty-five years.
Cadaveric thin, so tall he stooped as if his height was too much for his body to bear, expressionless eyes.
Kolby hit the nail on the proverbial head with his declaration.
But she didn’t respond to it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “What are you doing here?”