Reluctantly Royal(63)

I could see my father’s head in the first pew, where the family would sit. His gray hair was neatly combed and he was wearing a suit. Our butler, Gerard, sat a few rows behind him.

When we neared the front row, my father looked over his shoulder and stood up. Despite his sour expression, I was relieved. His eyes were clear, which meant he was sober. Or at least at a level where he could function normally.

“Hello,” I said. Marty’s fingers tightened on mine.

“Hello.” My father nodded his head at Max and then sat back down.

If he was anyone else’s father, they might have been bothered by the distant greeting. For me, it was a small victory. He hadn’t yelled at me, hadn’t threatened me, hadn’t caused a big scene. He had even spoken to me, when I had thought I’d be lucky to have him ignore us.

I took the seat next to my father, careful to keep a good distance between us. Marty sat next to me and Max sat on the other side of Marty. Samantha, Cathy, and Alex sat next to Max. Alex turned in his seat and greeted some of the people behind us. Shaking hands and being polite as people tried to get in a word with the heir to the throne.

When the minister stepped up to the podium, everyone began to quiet. I’d pushed to keep the ceremony simple. I didn’t want to have people sitting there for hours, listening to endless droning on about my grandfather. Most of the people in this room had never met the man. And while I’m sure their intentions had been good in coming, it still felt invasive. I should have insisted that we keep the funeral small and personal, but Rachel had felt that it would send the wrong message to the town that had accepted us back. Understanding her point, I’d relinquished my stance and agreed to having a “proper” royal burial. Complete with flowers, music, and a real minister.

A Bible verse was read, which would have made Granddad cringe. And for some reason, that made me smile. Just imagining his reaction made me feel closer to him. I could practically hear him saying, “Oy vey” and rolling his eyes. My dad shifted in his seat and I dared to look at him. That’s when I realized I hadn’t imagined my grandfather saying his favorite phrase, it had been my father. With a look of amusement, he shot me a small smile, and I realized that in that moment we were thinking the same thing. Oddly enough, that made the whole situation feel a little lighter. This little connection with my father. I didn’t forgive him for the way he’d been acting, the way he handled himself. But in a way, my grandfather linked us together.

A choir sang a hymn, the voices twining together through the rafters of the old church. Then the minister talked about Granddad, telling them about his life as a workingman, his love for his family and friends. He talked about how Granddad had fished with Marty, which made my son bury his face against my arm.

When it was almost time to sing, I took a deep breath and tried to gain my composure. It was like trying to grab silk line with oil-slathered hands. Feeling eyes on me, I looked to where Max was watching me. The light streaming through the stained-glass windows of the church splashed along his face, but it was his emerald gaze that held my attention.

I’m not sure what it was that passed between us, but it filled me with strength. If Max could come out and deal with the media, the spotlight, then I could get up and do what I did best.

“Lady Meredith is now going to sing a farewell to her beloved grandfather.”

I kissed Marty’s head and looked at Max. Without a word, he slid a casual arm around my son’s shoulders.

As I stood up and walked toward the dais, I let go of my nerves and slid into the quiet zone I retreated to before a show. This was the place where I found my voice, where I found myself.

The minister stepped forward and shook my hand before leaning forward and kissing my cheek.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that your grandfather loved you very much.” He squeezed my hands.

“Thank you.”

“The stage is yours, my lady. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your voice.” He smiled. “I’m sure your grandfather will be listening.”

“I hope so.” Letting go of his hands, I stepped up to the podium and looked out at the audience.

The church was filled with people, but I didn’t let that faze me. I’d sung for larger groups before. As the piano began to play, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

This was my farewell to a man who had taught me what family meant, to reach for my dreams, and never to take no for an answer.

This is for you, Granddad.

Opening my mouth, I let the words fall out. I reached deep and sang with my heart, the pain that I felt echoed by the melody of the song. I’d chosen a more contemporary song, something that had become popular on the indie music circuit. I’d fallen in love with the words. It spoke of carrying that person’s love with you even if they were gone. Something about it touched my heart, and I wanted everyone in the room to feel it, too.