Elegy (19 page)

“Want a ride to the funeral?” he asked.

I gave him another wide, innocent smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Then, with the gun bumping against my hip through the purse, I followed him to the car.

Chapter
TWENTY-THREE

R
uth’s memorial service lasted longer than any other funeral I’d attended. The number of speakers and eulogizers and gnashers of teeth at this thing was
crazy
. Of all the people integrally involved in the memorial, I didn’t recognize a single one. Each member of the Mayhew family stayed firmly planted in his or her seat. Even stranger, I caught Jeremiah
grinning
every now and then.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the mystery any longer. I tilted my head toward Joshua—who had easily forgiven me for being a few minutes late—and, from the corner of my mouth, whispered, “Any explanation for all this?”

He kept his eyes glued to his grandmother’s closed casket, but he smiled just like his father. “Grandma Ruth planned this funeral a long time ago,” he explained quietly. “What you’re watching now is a carefully orchestrated production. Most of those people are members of Ruth’s old coven, and they’re reciting lines from a
script
she wrote for them. Think of it as . . . funeral theater.”

I shook my head in genuine surprise. Then I started to grin too. It made perfect sense that Ruth’s iron fist would reach out from beyond the grave to control her own funeral. But whatever the intended purpose of this spectacle, it also had an inadvertent—but no less positive—effect: the Mayhews themselves were having a great time watching it. One singer hit an off-key high note, and Jillian suppressed a giggle; a eulogizer called Ruth a “fount of mercy and gentleness,” and Rebecca fought off a snicker. The other members of the family were no exception.

The first truly somber moment came when the funeral-home director called for all the attendees to file past the grave. I took my dutiful place in line and silently thanked Ruth for instructing that her casket be kept closed. Turning away from the sight of all the white flowers piled atop Ruth’s coffin, I focused harder on Joshua so that I could take his hand in mine. He didn’t turn around, but he gave my fingers a firm squeeze. I knew what that squeeze meant: that this part would be far more painful than the actual service. This part would be real.

After paying our respects at the grave, we all returned to our seats but remained standing in front of them. At this point, non–family members came by to give their condolences and their hugs. Then, slowly, they left the cemetery in groups.

While people began wandering toward their cars, I hung back, trying to give Joshua some much-needed alone time with his sister and parents. Soon, Annabel as well as her little sister and parents joined that small gathering, as did Drew and his mother. Together, this group of Ruth’s children and grandchildren talked and cried and even laughed, for almost another hour. And I didn’t mind the wait at all.

I hardly even noticed when, at some point, Felix, Hayley, and Scott joined me in leaning against Felix’s rental car. They all watched with me as the Mayhew family mourned, until Hayley shifted her weight beside me.

“You know, sometimes it’s weird,” she mused. “Loving a Mayhew.”

I arched an eyebrow, surprised at the sentiment—and the insight. “What do you mean, Hayley?”

“It’s just kind of intense: this huge family of Seers and the people who love them. A lot of different abilities, and a lot of different opinions on how to use them.”

“But you’re a Seer, too,” Felix pointed out, stretching forward to meet her gaze. She gave him a sweet but close-lipped smile.

“It’s different with me and my mom. Jeez, it’s different with most Seer families. I mean, do you guys have at least three or four relatives that you can share this burden with?”

I settled further against the car, realizing that I’d been excluded from the question, given that I wasn’t technically a Seer. Still, I listened to Felix’s and Scott’s answers.

“No, man. I don’t have anyone.” Scott shook his head sadly. “The only other Seer that I know I’m related to is my gran . . . but she’s dead now. And
I’m
not even triggered yet.”

“Yeah,” Felix added. “I didn’t even find out until after my sister died. We were around Voodoo a lot as kids, thanks to my grandfather, but the ghost stuff wasn’t really front and center.”

Hayley and Scott just nodded, obviously reflecting on the perils of being lonely as a Seer. Then, the three of them unexpectedly turned to me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Is it hard for you, too?” Hayley asked. “Dating a Mayhew?”

“Uh . . . well, I guess
dating
is hard for me.”

The three of them chuckled, but not cruelly. For the rest of our wait, we shared a companionable silence and I reflected on the fact that, in a way, I would leave earth knowing that I’d made real friends. Which was definitely not a bad thing.

Of course, it did make me feel sort of guilty about what I had in my purse right now and what I intended to do with it on Saturday night, if I had to.

Finally, the group of Mayhews approached us. Jillian got there first and wrapped her arms around Scott’s waist. Next came Drew, who enveloped Hayley in a tight hug. Seeing everyone couple up, Felix rolled his eyes at me with a faint grin and peeled himself off the car so that he could go talk to Annabel a few feet from us. So I craned my neck to find Joshua.

By now, he stood only a few feet from me, talking intently to his aunt Trish. Joshua must have sensed me watching him, because they both glanced over to me at the same time. Trish smiled and gave me a friendly, noncommittal little wave; as far as she probably knew, I was just that strange girl who Rebecca and Jeremiah drove home from New Orleans at Christmas. I waved back, thinking of how much I wished I could interact with Joshua’s family in a
normal
way. At least during these last two days.

With deliberate slowness—almost as if they wanted to miss the huge family luncheon that Ruth’s old church was holding in her honor—the Mayhews began to pile back into the limo. Instead of joining them, Joshua walked up to me, frowning as though the morning had taken a greater toll on him than he let on. Without saying anything, I concentrated on our touch so that I could slip my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, which he returned gratefully. We embraced for a few more seconds, before he moved away to take my arm in his.

“This time,” he said, “you’re riding in the limo, and you’re even going to do it visibly. I’ve already asked my parents.”

I smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked toward the car. “You know I don’t need a fifteen-foot-long sedan to be with you.”

“That’s good,” he said, chuckling low. “Especially since they’re only, like, ten feet long anyway.”

I laughed and then, feeling a little bit intimidated by the sheer size of the limo, ducked into the open door. Joshua guided me to a corner, where he could sit on the only side of my body that might be exposed to one of his relatives. When he wasn’t looking, I tucked my purse with its contraband gently between my feet on the floorboards.

When the limo was full and had started to bump down the uneven cemetery road, Joshua laced his fingers with mine and then ran his thumb slowly down the back of my hand. For some reason, the touch ignited a wild reaction within me, and a furious blush burned its way across my cheeks.

What’s
wrong
with you?
I chastised myself internally. But I already knew the answer. I had, at best, two days left with him. One of those—today—would be mostly occupied with the memory of the grandmother who died defending him; another—Saturday—would be occupied with me . . . doing what I needed to do. Tonight, and only tonight, we had the chance to carve out a few final hours for ourselves. And I couldn’t imagine that I would practice much self-restraint with him, given the circumstances.

I fought my blush, trying to focus on the rocking limo and the conversations inside of it. The effort worked . . . sort of.

Later, during the church luncheon and the long hours of coffee and Ruthcentric chatting back at the Mayhews’ house that night, I stayed close to Joshua’s side—there to support him, if he needed it; there to touch him, if I needed it. I only ducked away for a few brief minutes to hide my purse in a random linen cupboard in the back hallway.

People didn’t leave until well after eleven, filtering out in small groups: first, those adults with small children; next, some of the elderly; and, finally, the young Seers. At last, there were only five people left in the kitchen. Jeremiah, Rebecca, Joshua, Jillian. And, of course, me.

At this point I was so worn that I felt somewhat cranky about the fact that I would have to “go home” and shift invisible before I could return. But thankfully, Rebecca solved my problem.

“Amelia, honey, it’s so late. Why don’t you just stay the night, up in Jillian’s room? If that’s okay with your parents, of course.”

I tried not to groan in relief. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Mayhew. I’ll give them a call from Jill’s room, to let them know where I am.”

I stared meaningfully at Jillian, and she gave me a surprisingly mischievous grin. I frowned back at her, unsure of what her look meant. She shook her head, letting the grin fall away as she innocently faced her mother.

“I’ll just go and get the room ready for her,” Jillian offered. Rebecca gave her a preoccupied wave, so Jillian turned toward the stairs. Before she crossed through the archway that led out of the kitchen, she flashed me that grin one more time and then darted up the staircase.

I watched her go, confused, until Joshua’s arm brushed mine. Sufficiently sidetracked, I smiled warmly up at him.

“Ready?” he whispered, touching the inner crook of my elbow with his fingertips. I had to force myself not to shiver happily as I followed him toward the archway. Once there, I paused and leaned back to thank Jeremiah and Rebecca one more time, if only to reassure them that I would behave myself that night. They both smiled at me, but I could see that they were too distracted by exhaustion and grief to worry about the fact that their son’s girlfriend was officially staying the night.

I ducked back through the archway, took Joshua’s hand again, and started to climb the stairs with him.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly. “About today, I mean?”

Joshua shrugged. “I will be. I think it’s easier for me, since I know that this was Ruth’s choice. And since I know what she’s doing with her afterlife. Knowing she’s in the light, it—”

His voice caught suddenly, and he stopped short, just a few steps shy of the landing. He looked away from me quickly, but I could tell that his face had darkened. I knew what he was thinking, then; I knew what he couldn’t say out loud.

It would be easier for him to accept what might happen tomorrow night, if he knew I would end up in the light. And I wished, so very much, that I could tell him that would be the case.

Instead, I pulled him to me with sudden force and began to kiss him passionately. He hesitated for a split second and then kissed me back, grabbing ahold of me so forcefully that we accidentally climbed the remaining steps. Before I knew it, my back was pressed against Jillian’s bedroom door and my hands were . . . everywhere, it seemed.

But just as quickly as the kissed started, it ended. Joshua used the door to push himself away, until he stood closer to his bedroom door than to me. We stayed that way for a while: both panting, neither moving. Eventually, Joshua had composed himself enough to give me a small, strangely polite bow of his head.

“Good night, Amelia.”

And with those words, he was gone, ducking through his bedroom door and shutting it quickly behind him. I stared at it, blinking rapidly for God knew how long. Then, for lack of a better option, I opened the door to Jillian’s bedroom and slipped inside.

After I shut Jillian’s door behind me, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes. My nerves were still rattling around, mostly because of that kiss: it felt strangely meaningful, as though it was just a prelude.

I was still lost in thought when I heard Jillian sigh dramatically.

“Are you going to sneak into my brother’s room tonight and, like, do it?”

With an embarrassed half grin, I stormed over to where Jillian sat on her bed, grabbed one of her ruffled throw pillows, and smacked her playfully with it. Then, without saying a word, I changed into pajama pants and a soft tee and crawled onto the pallet of blankets that she’d made for me on the floor.