Dairy-Free Death

by P. D. Workman

“No,” Erin admitted. Her head was already whirling with all of the familiar and unfamiliar names. Her aunt’s handwriting was neat, but after looking at it for a few minutes, Erin wanted just to close her eyes. “I guess it was a ridiculous idea.”

  “Why don’t you just write down one name from each family you want to remember the name of?” Vic suggested. “Not too far back. A grandfather or great-grandfather. So, if you want to talk to Mary Lou about her family, you ask her if she’s related to…”

  Erin flipped back toward the beginning of the book and found the Cox line. Vic looked at it.

  “So, you ask her if she’s related to Alexander Cox. And maybe write down the year he was born. Right? You might not be able to tell them what your relationship is, but you can say, ‘I’m related to Alexander Cox,’ with confidence.”

  “Yeah. Good idea!” Erin went to the side table drawer and rifled through it for paper and a pen. “I’ll have to be careful not to go overboard, but if I pick out ten different families… I’ll bet almost everybody is related to one of those ten.”

  “Uh-huh. Probably.”

  Vic dragged the string along the floor and then up the front of the couch and onto the seat cushion. Orange Blossom sat there for a moment, haunches quivering, ears pointed forward, looking for it to reappear. Then he rocketed forward and ran up the couch to pounce on the string. Vic let out a shriek, trying to get away from the needle-sharp claws in time. She laughed.

  “Wear him out,” Erin encouraged. “Last night he kept pouncing on my toes every time I moved. I would just be getting to sleep, and he would attack!”

  “Then don’t wiggle your toes when you’re going to sleep,” Vic returned. She continued to tease the cat with the fraying string.

  They started early as usual and kept the bakery open until noon, then closed to eat their lunches and clean up. A quick trip home to get dressed up, and they would be ready for the funeral.

  “How should I dress?” Erin asked. “I’ve never been to a funeral before.”

  Vic frowned at her. “How could you never have been to a funeral before? I’ve been to dozens.”

  “Well, you have a family. I haven’t had anyone. If someone dies, you don’t take your foster kids with you to the funeral; that’s just for real family. And if a foster parent dies, they take you to another home. Even if another foster child dies… If they have a funeral, it’s done by the birth family, not the foster family. Social Services doesn’t pay anything for them, and most foster families aren’t rich enough to afford an expense like that themselves. The body either goes back to the birth family, or they go wherever Social Services sends bodies no one cares about. To be cremated or buried in some public plot. I don’t know.”

  “And as an adult? You’ve never been to a funeral?”

  “Whose? I don’t have any family, and I moved around so much I was never in one place for more than a year or two. Not long enough to get that close to anyone.”

  “That’s just bizarre to me.” Vic looked Erin over critically. “I’ll bet they do funerals pretty formal here in Bald Eagle Falls. A dress. Something dark and plain. Knee length. Shoes that aren’t going to kill your feet if you have to stand for a while because we’ll probably be standing around visiting after it’s over. Some jewelry. Nothing distracting, but I think all of yours is pretty simple, isn’t it?”

  Erin nodded. “I only have a few pieces. They have to be able to go with anything.”

  “Right. Any of them should be fine. Nothing too showy in the makeup department, but you don’t usually anyway. Classic works anywhere.”

  “Okay. I can do that. What are you going to wear?”

  “I’m going to check Clementine’s closet. I didn’t bring any dresses.”

  “You’re too tall for anything of Clementine’s.”

  “Yeah. But I’ll make something work.”

  They didn’t have a long time to get ready, so Erin went to her room and pulled together an outfit. When she had moved to Bald Eagle Falls, she hadn’t brought much with her in the clothing department. More than Vic, who had ended up having to live on the street, but less than she would have liked. She wore mostly pants at the bakery, and the town had seen her in all of her ‘Sunday dresses’ at the after-church teas.

  She emerged from her room and went to see what Vic had managed.

  Vic was in slacks because, as Erin had pointed out, Clementine was much shorter than Vic, but she had found a pretty purple blouse that was shimmery and fit her nicely. Vic had put her blond hair up in a bun, fastened with a piece from Clementine’s jewelry box.

  “Here, I have just the thing for you,” she told Erin. She delved into a drawer and came out with a filmy green scarf. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think it will look good?”

  “Stand still.” Vic wrapped it loosely around Erin’s shoulders and tied it into a neat knot that lay flat like it was supposed to instead of twisting around like Erin’s knots always did. “There. Look in the mirror. What do you think?”

  Erin had to admit that she liked the effect. “Good. I just hope it isn’t too hot. I don’t know about wearing another layer on such a warm day.”

  “That’s why you need this,” Vic said, giving her a handheld fan. Erin flipped it open and fanned herself.

  “You don’t think it looks pretentious?”

  “Not when it’s hot out! It only looks silly if you use it when you don’t need to.”

  Erin folded it back away. “Okay. I’ll put it in my purse. But I’m not using it if I’m the only one.”

  “You won’t be!” Vic promised.

  And Vic was right, of course. The chapel at First Baptist was packed, and although big ceiling fans whirred lazily overhead and air conditioning hummed in the background, it was too warm and still. There was no need for Erin to consider whether a handheld fan was appropriate, as just about every lady in the place had one out and was fanning herself.

  “Do you see anyone you know?” Erin whispered to Vic.

  Vic gave her a questioning look. Of course, most of the faces were familiar from around town.

  “I mean, do you know anyone from the Plaint side of the family? Anyone else from Angela’s extended family?”

  Vic nodded. “Yes. A few.”

  “There are Davis and Joelle,” Erin pointed out, nodding toward the two of them. Davis was in a worn, dark suit and limp blue tie. Joelle was wearing a leather jacket with faux fur trim over a shape-hugging black dress cut lower than anything Erin would have dared to wear.

  “Uh-huh. And the fat lady sitting next to Davis is an aunt or cousin. Most of the row is related… but not immediate.”

  Vic fell silent. Erin took another quick glance around to make sure it wasn’t because the service was about to start or someone was giving them a dirty look. But most of the rest of the congregation, seated early and still waiting for the pastor to begin the service, were whispering to each other like Vic and Erin.

  Erin looked over the congregation, focusing on those who were unfamiliar. As Vic had said, the extended family was seated with Davis and Joelle along the front row.

  “Is there anyone here you don’t know?” she asked Vic.

  Vic sat looking at the front and didn’t turn her head to look at Erin. “A few.”

  Erin waited for details, but Vic didn’t look at her or expand on this.

  “Well…?”

  “What?”

  “Who don’t you recognize?”

  Vic finally turned her head. She blinked at Erin. “Not now, Erin, okay?”

  Erin was taken aback. Vic was obviously upset, but Erin had missed whatever or whoever it was that had upset her. She put her hand on Vic’s arm. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  Vic shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come here. But it’s too late now. Just… just let me be. After the service is over… I need to go home. Right away.”

  “Okay. If you like. Are you not feeling well? Do you want to go now? It hasn�
�t started yet; we could probably sneak back out.”

  “Not without people seeing. I don’t want to draw any attention.”

  “Sure. Fine. Whatever you want. I’m sorry… I’m not sure… can I help somehow?”

  “Shh. Just leave it alone for now.”

  Erin obeyed. As much as she wanted to discuss people and puzzles, she didn’t want to upset Vic any more. She studied people on her own, trying to divine who the unfamiliar parties were. She looked for family similarities. She tried to analyze their body language and their facial expressions. She was good at reading people. She’d had to get good at it, with the life she had led.

  The service began, and everyone else stopped whispering and appeared to be attending to the pastor. Erin’s mind wandered. It didn’t sound like the pastor knew Trenton or anything about his family. He was more interested in preaching a sermon on death and the Baptist beliefs surrounding it. Not something that Erin was interested in hearing. She had no curiosity about the beliefs of the various religions. She had lived with families of many different faiths before finally aging out of foster care. They had all tried to tell her that their beliefs were the correct ones. That she could only get to heaven for her final reward if she were converted to their faiths. But she had never bought it. She knew that the foster care rules said her foster families were not allowed to try to convert her, but it never seemed to stop them. Even the less pushy ones still seemed to manage to work it into conversations somehow.

  Erin studied the building’s architecture. The tall windows. The ceiling fans and their slight wobble over the congregation’s heads. She wondered how many people would be hurt if one of the fans broke free and fell into the sleepy congregation. It was morbid, but at least it kept her awake. She glanced over at Vic, hoping to find her dozing so that Erin would be justified in poking her. But Vic was sitting up straight, staring straight ahead, not looking the least bit sleepy. Erin fanned herself, wondering how much longer the pastor could go on with his fire and brimstone. Sooner or later he’d have to wrap it up, say something nice about the deceased, and get on with the burial.

  From what Erin understood, only the immediate family and closest friends would be going to the burial, which would be a very small number, but there would be a reception at the church with lots of visiting and swapping tales. Which of course meant gossiping. Erin was sure there would be plenty of speculation about where Trenton had been for the previous two decades. Where had he gone? Why had he left before school even let out, when he was on track to be his class valedictorian? Was it something that Angela had done? A fight he’d had with someone? Some other shady situation that had forced him to leave town without a word?

  Mary Lou had said that someone would know something. But who? Who had seen Trenton leave that day? Or who else had known the reasons? Maybe his brother, Davis? It would be logical to ask him. Wasn’t it what everyone was wondering? Surely he’d have to come up with some story. Something that would satisfy people.

  Erin woke up for a musical number. Then there was a eulogy. By Joelle, rather than by Davis. She was very sweet but didn’t have a lot to say when it came right down to it. Just the kind of things you could say about anybody. Or would be expected to say at their funeral, whether it were true or not. It wasn’t exactly like the funerals Erin had seen on TV. But those were always in the middle of some thriller or comedy. And Trenton’s funeral was not a thriller or a comedy.

  There wasn’t a lot of crying. Joelle choked up a couple of times, but stopped to breathe for a moment and then went on again. There was a woman on the front row who was crying. Erin wanted to ask who she was, but Vic was decidedly non-talkative, so Erin didn’t say anything that might bother her.

  Erin fanned herself. It helped to chase away the drowsiness only a little. The fan would probably be more helpful if she folded it back up and slapped it across her leg where no one could see.

  There was another song. Davis got up to speak. The focus of his talk was highlights of Trenton’s life. But it was obvious that they hadn’t seen each other for a long time. All of the memories were of their boyhood years, with a few dates thrown in for good measure. Birth date, a couple of significant events in his childhood, and his death date. No mention of disappearing from town and walking out of his family’s life forever. No mention of his abrupt return after Angela’s death to claim her estate.

  Erin rubbed her eyes.

  Trenton had been the one to claim his mother’s estate.

  He was the one who should have been harder to find. He was the one who had disappeared, and yet he was the one to reappear upon her death. Did that mean that someone in town had known where to reach him? And was he the only one mentioned in the will? What about Davis’s portion of the estate? What about her husband? If they had never divorced and he had never been declared dead, had she left anything to him in her will?

  She was more awake, itching to pose the questions to Vic to see what her thoughts were. Erin wasn’t sure how she was going to get any of them answered. She didn’t know who Angela’s estate lawyer was, if she had left a will, or who would have any knowledge of it. Besides Davis. He must have known something, or he wouldn’t have returned to town. Erin was pretty sure that it hadn’t been just to go to his brother’s funeral. He hadn’t bothered to show up for his mother’s.

  Poking around in her purse for a moment, Erin located the sheet of paper on which she had written the various family names she had planned to inquire about when visiting after the funeral. Because of Vic’s reaction, they wouldn’t be staying after the funeral, and it all seemed a little silly to Erin in retrospect. Pretending to know who her ancestors were and that she had some kind of connection with the other members of the town? Why bother? Why was that even important to her?

  She scribbled down a list. She could see Vic looking at her out the corner of her eye. Not down at the paper to see what she had written, just over at her to see what she was doing.

  A scriptural passage. Another musical number. A long-winded prayer with a chorus of amens throughout. Then the pastor was finally giving his closing remarks and instructions, letting everyone know where to go. Then the congregation was standing and watching the casket and the row of family members parade out of the chapel. Once they were gone, people started to murmur and whisper to each other. Erin turned to Vic, relieved to be able to talk once more.

  “You need to go home?” she prompted. “Or have you changed your mind?”

  “Home. Let’s get out of here.”

  Vic made her way toward the closest door, even though they were parked around the other side of the building. They worked their way through the other people streaming into the foyers, smiling and greeting friends and acquaintances, making non-specific comments about how lovely it had been. It had been long and tedious. Erin didn’t have any real-life funeral experience to compare it to, so it might have been lovely. But it was certainly a lot less interesting than funerals on TV.

  One of the ladies tried to stop Erin to talk to her. Vic grabbed Erin’s hand and pulled her on so that she couldn’t slow or stop to talk. They burst out of the building before slowing. Erin pulled Vic to a stop.

  “Okay. We’re out. Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Shouldn’t have come here.” Vic started walking again, around the church toward the car.

  “Why not? You’re the one who wanted to come. I only came because Davis insisted.”

  “You can stay if you want to.” Vic looked at her. “You wanted to talk to people about their families, from Clementine’s book. I forgot.”

  “No, it’s okay. That was just curiosity. A way to talk to people if I had to. I can always ask them about their ancestors when they come into the bakery if I want to start getting to know how everyone is related.”

  “You sure?”

  Erin nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes. “So…” She looked for a way to change the subject and distract Vic
from whatever was bothering her. “Was there anyone you didn’t recognize? I was wondering who was there from out of town.”

  “My parents,” Vic said bleakly. “My mom and dad were there.”

  “Oh.” Erin suddenly understood. “Oh, my goodness. No wonder you wanted to get out of there! Did they see you?”

  “No. I don’t think so. They were up near the front. But I couldn’t stay around there and let them see me.”

  “No. I get it. You couldn’t stay.”

  “Stupid. I never even thought about them coming to the funeral. They weren’t that close to Aunt Angela. I guess they were curious about Trenton and Davis. Like everyone else. It’s the spectacle. I should have known they’d want a look.”

  Erin gave Vic an awkward little back rub, wishing she could do something else to comfort her. While she hoped that Vic would be reconciled with her parents at some point, it was still too early. The wounds were still too fresh, and her parents hadn’t had long enough to get used to the new facts of life as far as Vic was concerned.

  “Thanks. I know I shouldn’t care so much what they say or think. I shouldn’t run away from them. They’re not going to change me, so they may as well see me for who I really am.”

  “You’ll get there at some point. You’re just not ready yet. Give yourself time to get comfortable.”

  Vic nodded. “Yeah.”

  They got into the car. Erin started the engine and got the air conditioning going immediately.

  “So why do you want to know who I didn’t recognize?”

  “I just wondered…” Erin was hesitant. It seemed so silly in the face of Vic’s problems. “I wondered whether Angela’s husband would put in an appearance. You know. If he’s still alive.”

  Vic thought about it, her forehead wrinkling.

  “If he showed up, somebody would have recognized him.”

  “Maybe. He could make himself look different. It’s been how long? Longer than Trenton, and he was gone for twenty years. How old were the boys when he disappeared?”

  “I don’t know. Teenagers, I guess. It was a few years between Uncle Adam disappearing and Trenton. He would have been thirteen or fifteen or something.” She clasped and twisted her hands in her lap. “I didn’t see anyone I thought was Uncle Adam… but I wasn’t looking for him, and I’ve only seen pictures.”