She nodded as she grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. From the back, she looked like a middle school boy. I wondered if she cultivated this image to keep the world at bay or if it was simply the most honest expression of herself. I worried about what was going to happen when she got a little older and the expectations were that she mold herself into a girl, but for now, I did my best to just let her be.
"Mama, we're leaving now!" I called as I grabbed my keys from the front hall table and shouldered my purse. I took one last look at myself in the hall mirror and shook my head. I was dressed for a funeral and felt frumpy.
"Who died?" my mother yelled. "I hope it was some rich relative who left us a ton of money!"
"No, Mama," I called back. "It was my boss, Mr. Yates. You remember him, don't you?"
"Was he the asshole that refused to promote you because you're an Irish girl?" my mother asked.
"No, Mama, he's the one who gave me a job when I was in high school," I said as I stepped into the doorway between the kitchen and hallway. "You remember him. He's the nice man who always gave us a turkey for Thanksgiving."
"Oh, right," she grumbled as she looked up at me. "God, what the hell are you wearing? You look like a slut! You'll never attract a decent man that way, Leah! What is wrong with you?"
"I'm not looking to attract a man, Mama," I said, biting my lip and hurrying out of the room. "I'm going to a funeral."
"There are always decent men at funerals!" she yelled as I shut the door and headed to the car.
I ignored her as I leaned against the door and tried to let go of the pain she'd caused. My goal had always been to protect Riley as best I could, but sometimes it was difficult.
"She said something about how you're dressed?" Riley asked as I slid into the back seat beside her. She dug into her backpack and came up with a bag of Skittles. I nodded, but said nothing. Riley opened the bag of candy and held it out to me, shaking it as she insisted I take a few. I put my hand out, and she poured the rainbow into my palm saying, "There. That'll fix it for now."
"Thanks," I smiled as I popped the handful in my mouth and chewed furiously before giving the cab driver the address of Riley's school.
"See? A mouthful of Skittles makes everything okay," Riley grinned as we pulled away from the curb.
"Indeed, it does," I nodded as I forced a cheerful smile on my lips and wished it were true.
"Do you think Gram will ever stop hounding you about finding a man?" Riley asked. Sometimes she was a typical twelve-year-old, and other times she cut right to the heart of things with the wisdom of someone well beyond her years.
"I don't know," I shrugged as I looked at her and brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. Riley ducked her head and moved away from me. "Sorry, force of habit. I don't know if Gram will ever change. I don't think so, but we can always hope."
"Was she this mean to my mom?" Riley asked as she stared out the window. "I mean, was it Gram who made her go away?"
"No, no one made your mom go away, kiddo," I said, knowing that while I wasn't lying, I also wasn't telling the truth. "She made a choice to go, and she went."
"Mmm-hmm," Riley replied, not looking at me. I watched her closely as she used her finger to draw a smiley face on the window. Then quietly, she added, "Maybe she made the choice because she had to."
"I don't know why your mom made the choice to leave, Riley," I said as we pulled up in front of her school. "I know she loved you very much, and that if she decided to leave, it must have been for a good reason."
She turned and looked at me for a moment before opening the car door and getting out. I watched her carefully close the door, wave to me, and then head up the sidewalk. Halfway to the door, she stopped and turned around. I waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. Riley saluted me, then turned, and sauntered up the steps and through the front door.
I wanted to go back and wrap my arms around her and tell her how mu
ch I missed Molly, too, but duty called. And I let the moment pass.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jack
I was finishing my fourth scotch when Jimmy pulled up in front of the funeral home where my father's wake was being held. I knocked back the last of the liquid courage and stepped out of the car.
I knew my father had been widely respected by his customers and employees, but this was more than I had anticipated. There were limos and town cars as far as the eye could see, and small groups of people gathered together in the parking lot, sharing cigarettes and flasks as they quietly conversed.
I squared my shoulders and walked through the front door where I was met with a noxious odor. It was created by the hundreds of floral displays lining the hallway leading to the room where my father's casket stood. I kept my head down as I quickly moved toward the spot where my mother stood, shaking hands and receiving condolences.
"Mother," I said quietly as I moved in behind her.
"Jackson!" she gasped as she turned and looked up at me. She looked tired. Her face had been ravaged by grief, but she still had an ethereal beauty about her. Her long, grey hair was artfully arranged in layers framing her face, and her makeup had been professionally done in a way that allowed her to cry openly without leaving rivers of mascara running down her cheeks. She was wearing a black hat with a veil, a black knit suit, and black leather pumps. While she looked like the consummate widow, she didn't look like the mother I remembered.