Until Harry (11 page)

“You’re such a pig,” I commented.

“Your mum paid for this – I’m not letting it go to waste,” he frowned.

He said this with such a serious face that it made me laugh.

“There is something wrong with you,” I said with a shake of my head.

He locked his eyes with mine. “Yeah – you.”

I grinned. “You love me.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s the only reason I put up with you.”

I sighed. “You’re such a pain in my arse.”

“Your squatted arse?” he asked, grinning.

I didn’t reply to him, so he said, “You forgive me, right?”

I sighed. “Have you ever known me to stay mad at you for long?”

“No,” he proudly announced. “It’s my superpower – that and being incredibly good-looking.”

I flushed and playfully swatted at his arm, making him grin. I had a small smile on my face as we turned and got lost in the crowd heading back towards the clothing shops, because I had more money to spend. I hated that deep down I knew no amount of money could change how I now felt about my body and overall appearance.

Anna and Ally’s words were drilled into my brain, and they couldn’t be forgotten. Kale could only distract me from reality for so long, but I’d make damn sure the time with him wouldn’t be wasted.

CHAPTER NINE

Day two in York

I
t was time.

I pressed my forehead against the oak door of my old
bedroom
, praying time would somehow reverse and give me a few more days with my uncle. I wasn’t ready to lower him six feet bel
ow the earth and c
over him up with dirt. I knew on some level I would never be ready to permanently say goodbye to som
eone I loved, but I felt like I physica
lly couldn’t do it for
my uncle.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. I just couldn’t do it.

“Lane?” I heard a soft voice call out from the other side of my bedroom door, gaining my attention.

I blinked and realised it was my grandmother.

“I can’t do it, Nanny.”

I stepped back when the handle of the door wiggled until it pressed down fully, and my door opened. My grandmother stood in my doorway, wearing a stylish black trouser suit. She had crumpled up a tissue in her hands, and her eyes were red-raw and bloodshot from crying.

“Baby,” she sniffled, “ye can do this.”

My eyes welled with tears. “I’m not ready.”

She smiled at me, tears falling onto her lined cheeks. “We’ll never be ready, sweetie, but death waits for no one.”

I nodded and sniffled as tears fell from my eyes and splashed on my cheeks and dress. I looked down at my black dress, momentarily admiring the black lace sleeves. My mother had gone out and got me the dress, tights and shoes I wore because I had nothing in my suitcase that was appropriate attire for a funeral.

When I’d read Lochlan’s note, I’d just thrown in my suitcase the first items of clothing I thought of from my apartment back in Ne
w Y
ork. Something to wear for the funeral never entered my mind. At the time it didn’t feel real. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact; I was trying to come to terms with it. It
still
didn’t feel real, and I didn’t think it ever would.

I would always be expecting the usual phone call, Skype call and daily email from him, and I was sure my heart would break each time I realised they would never come.

“You’re the last person ta say goodbye to ’im, baby,” my nanny whispered, pulling me from my thoughts and back to my haunting reality. “The hearse will be here soon ta close the coffin and take ’im ta the church for the funeral mass. I want ye ta have some time with ’im first.”

I nodded once more, my heart thumping inside my chest as my stomach churned.

My nanny led me out of my room and down the stairs. I heard numerous voices as I descended the stairs. Then I saw a crowd of people inside the house and another crowd outside in the garden through the open front door. Everyone quietened down when I reached the bottom stair, but I avoided looking at anyone’s face.
I d
idn’t want to speak to anybody. I just wanted to be with my uncle, and my nanny sensed that. She ushered me into the parlour; gave me a long, warm hug; glanced at the coffin one final time; and then turned and left the room.

When the door to the parlour closed behind me, and I was left alone with my uncle, the silence in the room was deafening. On trembling legs, I walked up to the side of my uncle’s coffin, and I lifted my gaze. Through blurred eyes, I scanned over every inch of his handsome face, making sure I would never forget it. I placed my shaky hands on top of my uncle’s cold ones.

“This really is the worst day of my life,” I said to him, remembering what I’d said to him last night. “I thought the day I left here was soul-crushing, but putting you to rest is killing me.”

I didn’t know why, but like before I was expecting my uncle to reply to me and assure me that everything would be okay, but when silence answered me, it made his death feel more real. How stupid was that? I was standing right next to his deceased body, and only when he didn’t answer me back did it make him being dead feel real.

“I’m not . . . I’m not ready to let you go,” I whispered.

I broke down into audible sobs when I heard a car pull up outside our house. I glanced at the window, and through the netted curtain I saw the hearse. It would take my uncle from my parents’ house and bring him to the church for the funeral mass, then on to his final resting place in the cemetery.

I began to panic. I was out of time.

“I love you with all of my heart. You have b-been the best uncle and fr-friend any girl could have ever asked for. I want you to
kn-kno
w that I’ve always adored you, and I’m so sorry f-for leaving you. I’m sorry, Uncle Harry. Please forgive me.”

I leaned over the coffin and placed my head on his hard, cold chest as sobs racked through my body. I hated that my cries rose to a point where it caused my mother, grandmother and family friends to break down outside of the parlour. I didn’t mean to upset them any more than they already were, but I couldn’t control the emotion that surged through me. I didn’t know how long I cried on my uncle’s chest, but when I felt hands on my hips, I lost it altogether.

“No!” I cried, and I stood upright over my uncle. “I n-need a few more m-minutes.”

I felt a forehead press against the back of my head, and the hands on my arms gripped me tightly.

“Come on, Laney Baby.”

Kale.

“I can’t, Kale,” I whimpered. “I can’t leave him. I c-can’t do it.”

I couldn’t even let my mind settle on the fact that Kale was touching me; I was too distraught over saying my final goodbye to my dear uncle. I looked to the parlour door when it opened, and men dressed in black suits entered.

The footmen.

“Kale, please,” I wailed, and turned in his arms. “Don’t let them t-take him,
please
.”

I looked up at Kale, and through blurred eyes I saw his blood
shot whisky-coloured eyes staring down at me. “I’m sorry,” he
whispered
.

“Please,” I wailed. “I can’t be w-without him. Pl-please.”

Kale squeezed his eyes shut, the anguish he felt written all over his face.

“Who will be present for the final closing?” a male voice murmured.

“I will,” my father’s voice replied.

I turned and gazed upon my uncle once more and whispered, “Goodbye, Uncle Harry.”

I knew I was supposed to leave then, but I couldn’t work my legs, which were frozen in place. I didn’t care because I didn’t want to leave anyway, but this wasn’t about what I wanted. This was about my uncle and him receiving the best send-off possible. Yet, even though I knew all of that, I still couldn’t bring myself to leave the room.

Kale knew this too, because without warning, my feet were lifted off the ground, and for a moment I fought against him as h
e lifte
d me from the room, but once we were outside in the hallway, I latched onto him and cried until there wasn’t a single tear left in my body. He mutely held me the entire time, kissed my head and swayed us from side to side until my sobs became mere sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling awful for using him as my shoulder to lean on when I had no right to ask that of him. I had no right to ask anything of him.

He squeezed me. “I’m here for you, Lane. Always.”

More tears came then, and regret wrapped around my sadness and thrust me further into misery. I wished more than anything that I could have been here for him when he needed me like he was here for me now, but that was the difference between myself an
d Kale.

He was selfless, and I was selfish.

“It’s time, sweetheart,” he murmured.

I mutely turned and headed out front, where I found the garden, as well as the road and pathways, was full of people. That made me cry harder. My brothers found Kale and me, and both of them hugged me when they saw what a state I was in. We moved over to my grandmother, mother and father, who was no longer with my uncle, and that meant his coffin had been closed for the very la
st time.

I held Kale’s hand and squeezed it as my uncle’s coffin was removed from my parents’ house and loaded into the back of the hearse. My family and Kale all got into the black family car that drove behind the hearse. I sat next to Kale, which wasn’t surprising considering I hadn’t let go of his hand since he’d offered it to me.

I leaned my head on his shoulder as we rode to the church for the funeral mass. The journey to the church was quicker than I would have liked. When we got out of the car, Kale let go of me so he, my brothers and father could join the footmen to carry my uncle’s coffin into the church.

I took hold of my grandmother’s and mother’s hands, and we cried together as we slowly walked behind the coffin into the church. I watched as the coffin was lowered from the men’s shoulders onto a stand that sat at the front of the altar, along with multiple bunches of flowers, flower nameplates and a beautiful picture of my uncle smiling happily.

I took my seat on the bench at the front of the church and nestled next to my father, then scooted down when Kale sat next to me, put his arm around my shoulder and tucked my body against his.
I he
ard loud murmurs and movement as the priest prepared for the service. Glancing over Kale’s shoulder, I saw a sea of
people
. I wasn’t surprised to find the church so full. My Uncle Harry h
ad been one of a kind, and the hu
ndreds of
people
who cam
e to see
him off were just a testament of how truly
incredible he was.

I was so thankful for Kale. He didn’t have to give me the time of day, yet he sat beside me and held my hand through the entire mass. He hugged me to him when both of my brothers read out their prayers, and rocked me as I cried during my father’s eulogy. It made people laugh to hear of the crazy side to my uncle, but it mostly made people cry, knowing they had lost such a character from the town.

While the priest was reading one of the final prayers, my mind drifted to my last Skype conversation with my uncle, and it brought me both comfort and heartache.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had,” I said to my uncle when his face filled my laptop screen.

My uncle snorted. “Hello to you too, darling.”

I grinned and adjusted my headphones so I could hear him clearly. “Sorry – hi, how are you?”

“Great now that we’re chatting.” He winked, then waved his hand. “Go on: tell me about the day you’ve had that I won’t believe.”

“Smartarse,” I chided, making him laugh. “Okay,” I began, “so you know how I’ve been editing a horror series for K.T. Boone?”

“The one where the little girl is really the killer?” my uncle asked warily.

Reading that series scared him.

“Yes,” I said, nodding.

“What about it?” he asked.

I had to contain my squeal because even though I was tucked away in the back of my local Starbucks, I would still draw attention to myself.

“The latest book in the series hit the
New York Times
list at number one!” I gushed. “Uncle Harry, something I edited, and helped shape, is a best bloody seller!”

My uncle cheered and clapped his hands together. “I knew it! I
kn
ew you’d do brilliantly. I’m so proud of you.”

For once, I felt something that resembled happiness.

“Thank you,” I said. “I can’t believe it. My name is associated with it, and because of that I’ve gotten three emails from different publishers – big publishers might I add – looking to hire me to work with some of their clients. Can you believe that?”

“Darling,” my uncle said with a beaming smile, “I’m not one bit surprised.”

I chuckled. “You knew this would happen, then?”

“I knew you’d be very successful at what you do, so yes, I did know. You’re rocking that city.”

I laughed. “I’m over the moon. Finally, something good has happened to me.”

“Will you still freelance?” my uncle questioned.

“Of course,” I said, nodding enthusiastically. “Indie authors are superstars, and it’s because of one of them that I’m getting job offers like this in the first place.”

“Good on you, darling. I’m so proud of you, and your parents will be delighted with the news.”

I slumped a little. “Do you think so?”

“Lane, of course. They’re so proud of all the books and articles you’ve edited. I told you that your father and I read everything you work on.”

That touched my heart in a way that I couldn’t describe.

“I can imagine you both huddled around the kitchen table discussing the books,” I said, laughing.

“We have to sit in the sitting room; your nanny and her friends knit at the table now.”

That caused me to laugh harder.