Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
We waited in the office while mourners arrived. Neil sat in silence, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
“Do you need anything?” I asked after a while.
He nodded. “I need my daughter.”
Valerie and Laurence arrived shortly after, Valerie carrying a small bundle in her arms that I immediately recognized as a baby blanket. My throat stuck shut.
“Valerie,” Neil said, putting his arms out to her, and she stepped into them, her face scrunching up in what looked to be just the latest in the line of painful crying spells scheduled for the day. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, too, but was surprisingly even as he spoke. “Chin up. You’re going to hate yourself later if you fall apart, now.”
Laurence cleared his throat. “If her daughter’s funeral isn’t a good enough time to cry, then what is?”
I stiffened. I hated conflict, and I certainly didn’t want one to take place, right here, right now. Laurence was seeing Neil the way I’d once seen Valerie. He didn’t know that Neil wasn’t a threat.
Are you sure? A little curl of fear nagged at me.
I reminded myself that any time I was most emotionally vulnerable, all my bad feelings about Valerie and Neil would come back to attack me. The birth of their daughter hadn’t brought Neil and Valerie together, and her death certainly wouldn’t.
Just entertaining thoughts about jealousy made me worry I was a terrible person. How could I be thinking of such a thing when Emma and Michael were dead? But I’d worked too hard on myself to let tens of thousands of dollars in therapy bills just circle the drain in a moment of doubt. Nobody can control their emotional reactions. We can only control our actions. And my current action was to slap my jealousy in the face and shove her into a vat of shut-the-fuck-up.
I hoped Laurence would be able to do the same thing, for Valerie’s sake.
“I’m sure it’s a British thing,” I tried to joke, but Laurence’s steely expression didn’t change.
Valerie stepped back from Neil and, to my surprise, hugged me, as well. “How’s Olivia?” she asked when she released me.
“She’s with the au pair, right now,” I said, with a little stab of guilt.
Neil put his hand on my shoulder. He knew how I felt about leaving her behind when it would have been a chance for the other grandparents to see her. “Today is going to be difficult enough for all of us. I didn’t think it was fair to subject her to all of this…emotional turmoil,” he explained.
Valerie nodded. “I wanted to tell you, just in case…” She paused for a breath. “I don’t have any ill feelings about you being Olivia’s guardians. Emma made that choice, and I have every intention of respecting it. I just hope…”
She broke down, again, and I couldn’t help myself. I put my arms around her, the way she’d comforted me when Neil had nearly overdosed after the death of his mother. I knew, without her even having to say it, what she feared. “Of course you’ll be a part of her life. And Michael’s parents, too. Family is so important to me. I would never, ever want to keep Olivia from having as much love as she could possibly have in her life.”
Neil turned away, covering his mouth with one hand.
Though I meant what I’d said about Michael’s family, I knew Neil didn’t feel the same way. We hadn’t even met Michael’s parents until the wedding had rolled around, and they’d only seen Olivia once so far in her life. They were busy, career-minded people, but so were Neil and Valerie. It was difficult not to judge the Van der Grafs for not being involved in their child’s life, but I bet they were kicking themselves for that more than Neil ever could.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Mr. and Mrs. Van der Graf arrived just in time for the service to begin. Neil would have something to say about that later, but he greeted them both respectfully and expressed his condolences, which they returned in kind.
It was odd, making small talk with these people who shared our pain, but whom we didn’t know that well.
“The casket is beautiful,” Mrs. Van der Graf said, trying for a smile. It really was beautiful, if a casket could be called that. Neil and Valerie had decided on a pale blonde wood with a rose-tinted finish that Emma would have loved, and it complemented the dark walnut Michael’s parents had chosen for him. They were adorable together, even in death, and that thought burst through my pain like a comforting wash of warmth and love.
I wasn’t sure what I believed about the afterlife, but I knew that was Emma’s presence I felt.
The funeral director knocked on the door before entering. “The mourners are all seated, barring any late comers. I think we should proceed, if you’re all ready.”