Phoenix Burning(62)
The buildings abruptly stopped just beyond the church, the town giving way to the encroaching wilderness. Chris slowed as they approached a break in the thick trees. A wide clearing opened up to their right, and he turned the SUV onto a lane between two crumbling stone pillars. They drove beneath a wrought-iron archway, and Emory could see acres of cleared land studded with tombstones.
“Looks like we’re right on time.” Maude gathered up her handbag and smoothed her floral-patterned skirt.
Chris parked Fox’s SUV alongside the road at the tail end of a long line of dusty cars. Alex climbed out of the vehicle, and Emory was hit with a wave of admiration. He looked amazing. His suit fit as if it had been tailored to show off his gorgeous physique. He’d opted not to wear a tie, the neck of his bright blue dress shirt open to show a hint of the glorious tan chest she knew so intimately. His golden curls were artlessly tousled, and his blue eyes were alight with concern directed at her.
“You look amazing, Emory.” He took her hand and helped her down.
She’d agonized over what to wear to her mother’s burial. Her desire to wear a dress to please her mother and yet thwart her father’s sexist views had made it almost impossible to choose anything. In the end she had opted to wear a skirt for the first time in years. The clingy pastel blue material swished lightly around her thighs, resting above her knees. Her top was snug, the neckline showing a hint of her cleavage. Her yellow cashmere wrap covered the dainty cap sleeves of her blouse. Bare of any jewelry, she’d secured her hair into the semblance of a ponytail on top of her head, intentionally letting the mass curl wildly around her shoulders. It was a style guaranteed to make her father grind his teeth.
Alex took her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. “Since we don’t have a proper ring, I thought we might make do with this.”
He’d removed the thick carbide ring from the middle finger of his right hand. As she watched, he slid it down over the third finger of her left hand, where it sat, a little loose, below her knuckle.
Things had happened so fast between the two of them. It was so important that she understand what this meant. “But I thought this was a connection to Gabriel, to the no-strings-attached life the two of you shared.”
“You’re right. The rings were meant to be a reminder not to give a fuck what anyone thinks.” He cupped her face and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But I’ve realized that I might not care what anyone else thinks, but your opinion of me matters a lot. I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want everyone to know it.”
Her heart was thumping out of control. His declaration had swept away all of the tension and horror of this day and turned it into something beautiful. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth.
“I know it isn’t on the correct finger, but I’ll be damned if I let you go without something marking you as mine.” He gave her a hard kiss.
“As if my heart doesn’t have your name tattooed on it.”
“I want something that bastard father of yours can see plain as day,” he muttered. “Other than the fist I’ll plant in his face if he pisses me off.”
Emory clasped his hand tightly as they followed Chris, Fox, and Maude toward the decent-sized crowd gathered at her mother’s gravesite. Part of her was still in total shock that she’d come back at all. It was a little bit like walking into the fiery furnace featured in one of her father’s Bible stories.
An unwelcome tingle slid down her spine as they drew closer to the group. A man stood at the head of the open grave. The Reverend Jonathan Banks still carried himself as though he were God’s mouthpiece on earth. His hair had once been the same burnished copper as Chris’s, though it was now shot through with strands of silver. He stood with his spine ramrod straight, a closed Bible in hand as he spoke to his congregation.
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” The reverend’s eyes swept the assembled group.
Emory’s skin began to crawl. She knew the verse from Ecclesiastes. It had been one of her father’s favorites, something he pulled out whenever he wanted to back up one of his decrees with a bit of Scripture, mostly because it could be twisted to any purpose. Her grip on Alex became so tight that he shifted to put an arm around her shoulders. His warm presence kept the demons at bay, but just barely.
The reverend continued his recitation. “A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to break down, and a time to build up. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together. A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing. A time to get, and a time to lose. A time to keep, and a time to cast away. A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate. A time of war, and a time of peace.”