Pre-funeral
I could smell food but my eyes refused to open. They protested the light coming in the blinds.
"Miss Jacqueline, Mr. France says you must eat today and get dressed."
I squinted at the elderly lady in my room. She put a platter and a tray on the dresser and left the room.
I rolled over but I heard him coming. I groaned before he was even in the room.
"Jack, don’t make me drag your naked butt to the showers. Let's go."
I shook my head, "I need to sleep. I'm so tired, France."
His weight shifted the bed, "You've slept for days, this is enough of this nonsense. Laying in here, feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to get you past this." He spanked my butt. I groaned but he laughed, "I think someone likes her butt being spanked. I smiled, turning over, "You're gross."
He winked at me and lifted the lid off of the platter. "Eggs Benny, your favorite."
The food made my stomach ache. I didn’t know when I'd eaten last. I didn’t think I had in days.
I sat up, pulling the sheets around my breasts. I noticed the laundry basket next to him, "What's that?"
"Rosa wants the sheets. She says you're becoming one with the bed. There isn’t enough staff to do the entire funeral and clean up around here, so I've been helping them out."
I frowned, "My mom is okay with you being here?"
He laughed, "She's been in a drugged-out state for two days. Your sister has been crying, but I think it's ‘cause Shane came back."
"Shawn. His name is Shawn."
He shrugged, "Whatever, he's a douche. He's been down there watching TV and barking orders at the staff like he's taken over as man of the house."
I flinched, making him laugh, "There's the spitfire I wanted to see. Now get down there and tear him a new one."
I held my hands out, "Eggs first."
He passed me the tray. I ate slowly, trying to let my body get used to food again.
I wrinkled my nose, "Sorry, I sort of flaked out."
He gave me a look, "Your dad died before you made it home, Jack. I don’t think anyone would be okay with that."
I shook my head, wanting to say more but my mom walked into the room, "Jacqueline, you need to be downstairs in fifteen minutes. We need to go over the plan and preparations." Her eyes darted to Mike and then back to me. My bare shoulders were probably making her uncomfortable.
I looked at Mike, "I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes."
He got up and left, nodding his head at my mother. She smiled at him but I could see it. I hated seeing it. I hated the way she judged him. It made me want to rage on her and maybe kill someone. I placed the tray farther down the bed, "Mom, I just wanted to say thanks—my room and clothes and stuff."
She sat on the bed, with the tray between us. I could see the drugs’ effect in her eyes as she spoke, "Jacqueline, I love you. I have never really known how to show it. I had a wet-nurse and a nanny until I was old enough to leave the house. I was raised the old way and I don’t know how to share my feelings. I don’t even know how to feel them. But I will say this, I am sorry your father has died, but I am not sorry my husband has died. I hope that you will not judge me too harshly for that."
I jumped from the sheets, wrapping my naked body around her. I held to her tightly and whispered, "You're free now, Mom. Just be like Muriel and have some fun. You deserve it."
She made several noises and patted my arms, "Muriel, yes. Of course. Okay, well. Uhm, that’s good then. I'll see you downstairs." She got up and left the room.
I sat back on the bed and wondered how it had taken me so long to find, not only myself, but also my way back home. How had we all been so petty and disgusting that we couldn’t even find it in our hearts to just love each other? Even I was guilty of it. If I even looked at Brandi, I wanted to slap the hell out of her.
I got dressed in my CHANEL dress again, but with underwear and styled my curly hair up. I put on light makeup; months in Greece and Italy had me golden colored. I looked at myself, and felt a hateful satisfaction that he would have loathed my outfit. He would have been disgusted at the dress and the hair being up and the whole nine yards. The tan from manual labor and the way my hands had calluses from work.
I looked like I was going to a garden party, but I didn’t care. They all knew about the things he had done to me. The ways he had humiliated me and treated me like I was a second-class citizen. Everyone knew that. Let them look on at my pale dress and judge, but I would not wear black for that man. I was sad my father was dead but it was an incomplete type of sadness. I was glad the man was dead, but I wished he had made an effort to change the way he was before he had died.
I walked down the stairs to the kitchen slowly. The bravery in my bedroom had been overwhelmingly strong. On the main floor of the house, where even the staff was giving me a sideways glance, I was scared.
"Looking good, Jacqueline. The Mediterranean suits you." Shawn gave me an appraising nod and an off smile.
"Thank you." I noticed he was watching TV and eating a huge breakfast. The staff was rushing about frantically. Mother was in the kitchen leaned over the counter and Brandi was helping set the utensils and folding the cloth napkins.
"You don’t think maybe you should change into something black, show some respect to the man?" He didn’t even look up from the golf game he was watching.
"No, I don’t."
He looked over at me, hoping I was still the weak person I had been when I'd fled. "Change, stop being so stubborn. You’re going to shame your family. I think you've done enough of that already, don’t you?"
I stormed to his plate, flipping it into his lap, "GET THE FUCK UP AND HELP OUT! IF YOU CAN'T BE OF HELP, THEN GET OUT!"
He stood up, leaning into my face, "YOU CRAZY BITCH! YOUR FATHER HATED YOU! HE WAS ASHAMED OF YOU! GO AND PUT SOMETHING DECENT ON!"
He dragged a hand across CHANEL, wiping his spilled breakfast across my dress and ripping a flower from it.
I slapped hard, harder than I thought possible. He raised his hand to me. I felt my face flinch involuntarily, waiting for the impact. It never came. A blur whizzed past my face, taking him to the ground. Mike had him on the ground, punching him. Shawn tried to fight back but his efforts were futile. Mike was in peak shape with the Stanley Cup playoffs starting in a few days.
Mike hauled him up from the ground and dragged him to the front door. He opened it and tossed him from the house, shouting, "You don’t come back, or me and you are gonna finish this." He sounded very country when he was angry. The South Carolina accent was sexy, even angry.
I stood there, vibrating with anger and agony. My dress was ruined.
My life was ruined.
Everything was ruined.
Mike turned back to me, "You have two choices—you can lose it now and realize later it was bigger than a dress, but it looked like it was over a dress. Or you can lose it later and be grateful you still looked like a lady."
My lip quivered. I turned on my heel and walked back to my room gracefully. I changed into a black CHANEL that made me look like Audrey Hepburn, but with a slightly-frizzy updo, instead of sleeked back. I laid my CHANEL down on the bed and turned away from her broken and damaged body. She was gone forever. I felt broken inside, like there should be two funerals that day. Her importance to me was huge.
"At least you got to wear it on the beach at my place."
I looked at Mike in the doorway, "I know but still. To die so young and prematurely."
"Try not mourning the dress harder than your dad."
I blushed, "I will, but she was there for me in the beginning, when things were at their worst."
He opened his arms for me, "I'm here too."
I collapsed my face into his huge chest, "Thank you. I know I'll never repay you for being here for me."
He pulled back and looked down on me, "That’s what people do for you, when they love you. You don’t repay me or thank me. You let me love you."
I realized then and there what being loved by Mike meant. It meant warmth and family and loyalty. It was the best kind of love.
Saturday Afternoon
Post Funeral
Muriel took my arm, leading me about the room and into the den. She gave me a grave look, "Sorry you never made it home."
I shook my head, "Thank you for saving my life, Muriel."
She laughed, "You're a brat. Anyway, the figure we have come up with is four million. He will sell everything, the equipment and everything for four million. He will also stay on for a season and help out. You have two weeks to make the decision. The 15th of May, this property goes on the market for eleven million dollars."
I scowled, "But he'd sell it to me for four?"
She nodded, "He phoned the place you've been this last five months and they all raved about the month you spent with them. True wine lover is what they called you."
I blushed, "They are too kind."
"Your father will leave you four million, at least. You should buy this, we both know you should."
I shook my head, "It's not working for it, if I am given the money."
She laughed, "You have worked for that money, my dear girl. No one has worked as hard as you. You have always done that man proud, even when you showed true character and refused to marry someone who didn’t love you."
Her words made sense but it felt wrong. I shook my head, "I can't."
She grabbed my shoulders, "Two weeks, think about it. Don’t decide this today. Never make a decision on a bad day. My grandmother always said that. Never make a decision on a day where it's rainy and shitty. Always wait for the best and brightest day to see if it's truly the heart's desire."
I smiled, "Smart lady."
She nodded, "She was." Muriel kissed me on the cheek and walked from the den. I turned and stopped, frozen in a thousand different things.
