I didn’t look at anyone in particular as I sang. Instead I imagined Granddad standing in the aisle. I knew his eyes would be full of tears, because he always cried when I sang. It had started when I was little and in school, and even the last time I had been practicing while I visited for a Christmas holiday.
As the song neared its pinnacle I let my eyes run over the front pews. The local government was well represented, as were the local businesses. But then my eyes found my father as he watched with a stone face. I’d never understood why he hated my singing. He treated it with disgust, and at best, he ignored it. Marty watched me with a small smile, his perfect little face warming my heart.
As my eyes met Max’s, I almost stuttered. There was something in his expression that made me feel light. Pride and possession filled his face. I could practically feel his eyes like a gentle caress.
As the song drew to a close, I noticed that people were wiping at their cheeks and my pride swelled. Never had I sung better than I had for my grandfather. For the first time since finding out that Granddad had died, I felt as if I’d had my chance to say good-bye.
Stepping down from the podium, I went straight to Marty and hugged him, before taking my seat.
“You sounded great.” Marty hugged me tightly.
“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his head and looked up at Max.
When the choir began to sing, I looked back to the front and watched as the pallbearers took their spots around the coffin. Even my father strode up to the stage with steady steps. His face was a mask of confusion and pain. Seeing him struggle with reality without the aid of liquor was painful. It was obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here. And for a lot of reasons, I could agree with him.
Patrick looked pale, but determined. He stood just behind Max, whose face was composed into a vague sense of compassion. It was a practiced face, one that I’m sure he used for situations when he was uncomfortable, but needed to look the part. I felt bad that I had put him in that position, but I was even more grateful that he had agreed to do it. He had truly stepped up and helped my family.
He had helped me. Even when I begged him not to. Talk about being stubborn.
I watched as he walked with the others out of the church to the waiting cars outside. As a family, we were urged to stand and follow the casket. For the first time in my life I hated having everyone watch my every move. This was not the same as being on stage or performing. This was my real life—a painful moment in our family’s history.
Marty held my hand and I was grateful to have my new friends following behind us. It took some of the attention away from Marty and me. I stopped in the foyer of the building, next to the guest log, so that I could thank the people who had attended. It was a blur of faces and handshakes, well wishes and condolences. I looked over my shoulder to see Max throw me a guilty look, but he didn’t come to assist with the line. Instead I watched as he dipped into one of the cars. By the time it was over, I felt like I’d shaken every hand in Lilaria. And for some reason had a strong desire to wash my hands, or to dose them in hand sanitizer.
“My lady, your car is waiting.” Rachel touched my shoulder. “Her Highness, Princess Cathy, is already in the car with your son. I put some snacks inside for Marty and you. I figured you might be hungry, thirsty at least, after that long reception line.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I looked at the woman. “You’ve been a huge help.”
Outside, the sky was at odds with the sorrow in my heart. Bright, puffy clouds floated in a clear blue sky, and I had to squint my eyes after being in the dark church for so long. Even from as far away as the photographers were, I could hear the whir and snaps of their cameras. Some of them called my name, but I kept my gaze down and continued on. Now was not the time for pictures or statements.
The driver opened the car door for me and I slid onto the back bench.
“Mom! Do you want some fizzy water?” Marty held up a green bottle of carbonated water.
“I think a regular water would be just fine.” I looked around the interior of the limousine and my eyes fell on Max.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ride with you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Cathy, Alex, and Sam are riding with your father.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that line of people by yourself.” He leaned back in his seat. “I figured Marty could use some company.”
“And you hate lots of people staring at you.” My mouth twisted into a small smile.
“And I hate having lots of people staring at me.” He chuckled. “Makes me feel like a baboon at the zoo. People just looking at me because I have a title.” He mimed having the chills. “Can’t stand it.”