My Sister's Husband

Someone behind us clears their throat. I turn to find my mother’s sister gawking at my closeness to Marcus. “Kelsey, sweetheart, don’t you think you should be with your parents? You too, Marcus. It’s only proper that the family of the deceased be there to greet mourners.”

My aunt emphasizes the word family like she can sense what happened between Marcus and me the day Jane died. I take a deliberate step away from Marcus and adjust my dress, taking the moment to also dry off my sweaty palms.

“You’re right, Aunt Sylvia. We should join my parents.”

I take a deep breath and walk towards my mother and father, keeping my eyes trained on their sunken faces. When I finally reach them, I glance at the open box beside us and drop to my knees.

“Oh, Jane,” I cry. Marcus is right, they did a great job making Jane look presentable and almost alive once again. It’s eerie, hands down. “How could this have happened?”

My mom puts a hand on my shoulder, surprising me. I guess she’s gotten her emotions out already, so she’s able to give me some of her strength. I reach into the casket and take hold of my sister’s hand. I expect it to feel cold with death or warm with life, but it feels almost like plastic. Like she’s a doll, not a human. My hand releases hers and it falls back onto the satin lining with a quiet thump.

For the second time today, Dad brings me to my feet. Marcus takes the post closest to her casket. I opt for the furthest spot. Being near her is a comfort and a curse at the same time. The distance will help me make it through this agonizing ceremony, I hope.

Family members form a line to pay their respects to Jane. I greet each mourner as pleasantly as I can as they pass by me, but my mind continues to wander other places. Does Jane even know that so many people came to say goodbye to her after death? Would she care? If she can see us somehow, does she know what I did with her husband just hours after we learned of her death?

The thought makes me shudder just in time for Aunt Sylvia to take my hand. She tsks at me.

“You should be careful, Kelsey,” she says sternly. She keeps her voice low so no one but me can hear, not that anyone else is paying us any mind. “You’ve just lost a sister and her husband just lost a wife.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper back.

She tsks again, eyes glinting like a snake. “I see the way you look at that man. Keep your wits about you, girl, before you do something you regret. Don’t bring shame onto this family. Don’t tarnish your sister’s good name.”

With that, my aunt leaves to find her seat for the services. Her words ring in my ears for the rest of the viewing. My aunt is right. I need to stop thinking about Marcus. Nothing good can come from us spending too much time together.

I angle my body towards the casket and find Marcus’s eyes on me, his gaze smoldering. If we weren’t standing in front of my sister’s dead body, I would think he was undressing me with those eyes. I bite my lip and his tongue darts out from between his. Shit. He’s definitely thinking about our night together, and so am I. The wetness builds between my legs. I fight to ignore it.

I move my stare over the growing crowd seated in the parlor and my gaze clashes with Aunt Sylvia. There’s a knowing look on her face. She shakes her head at me, a reminder of her warning.

If only she knew. All her warnings? It’s too late. I already committed the cardinal sin. I already slept with my dead sister’s husband.

And if Marcus keeps staring at me the way he is right now, I just might do it again.

Chapter Six

Kelsey

After the last of the mourners pay their respects to Jane and hug their way through our small family, I take my designated seat in the front of the funeral home. My parents and Marcus disappear into the hallway while the director prepares the parlor for the services. We decided to do the wake and funeral at the same time to save money, even though Jane’s life insurance is paying for the whole thing.

Finally alone for the first time since the wake began, I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. The breath I’ve held all day escapes my tired lungs. My aunt’s accusation echoes in my head. Keep your hands off your sister’s husband, she warned. But what would Aunt Sylvia do if she knew that all the lines have already been crossed?