When Tracey got off the phone twenty minutes later, she felt…
She didn’t know how she felt.
She was due to clock out in twenty minutes and went to explain to the store manager what had happened and give him a heads up that she’d need time off for the funeral, once they knew what the arrangements were.
“Why don’t you go on home? Seriously, it’s okay.”
Unable to pull together a coherent argument why she should stay, she nodded and headed out to her car. It wasn’t until she was pulling into Brandon’s driveway that she realized she’d headed there on auto-pilot, instead of home.
Brandon and Stuart weren’t home yet. She knew Emma would be at Grace’s house until later.
Jeff already had the front door open as she walked up, his smile fading as he got a good look at her.
“Trace? What’s wrong?”
She collapsed against him, crying.
Chapter Seven
Tracey was glad Emma wasn’t expected home until later tonight. That way, she wouldn’t walk in the way Brandon did, to find Tracey curled up and sobbing on the sofa with her head in Jeff’s lap.
Brandon set down his laptop bag and swapped places with Jeff, who’d called him earlier, as soon as Tracey had managed to cry the story out. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“It doesn’t feel real.”
“I know.”
“I always thought I would get another chance to see her.”
Kendall had texted her that he’d notified Cara’s parents and brother, as well as their own family. Tracey knew she needed to notify their friends, and the group on Facebook.
“Is there anything we can do?” Brandon asked.
She sniffled. “Once they figure out the arrangements, I need to fly out there. There goes my savings.”
“You can’t go out there alone. Not the way your family is.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll go, Master,” Jeff said. “You have to work, and so does Stuart. I can do this.”
“I can’t afford to pay for your ticket,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” Brandon assured her. “We’ll book the tickets. You can pay for the hotel.”
“Emma could go.”
“And that’s still a second ticket you can’t afford to buy. Besides, she’s got a swim meet Saturday. I’m sorry, honey, but unless Em demands to go, I’m going to vote she stays.”
Of course. She’d forgotten about that. In fact, Tracey was scheduled to work a split day on Saturday so she could make it. “Yeah.”
He stroked her hair. “Jeff will go with you. Period. He’s been feeling okay, and unlike Stuart’s brother, your family are only annoying dipwits, not potentially violent. Plus, it’s warm out there, not like Iowa was. Please don’t fight me on this.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because…” Her tears flowed again, hot and heavy. “Because I should be stronger than this.”
There was no chance her parents or other siblings would miss the funeral, either. If there was anything the Demmer family loved more than shoving their daughter’s face in the fact that she didn’t have a college degree, it was a good funeral.
“Hey, I’ve never been to California,” Jeff said. “You can show me around.”
She appreciated what he was trying to do, and she loved him for it.
Not…love-love, but brotherly kind of love. She was single and depressed, but not delusional.
She reached for her phone, where it’d ended up on the coffee table. Brandon gently closed his hand around it and her hand.
“What are you doing, sweetie?”
“I need to post something. To our group private message thread and to our class group.”
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
It was soooo tempting to say yes, hand it all over to him, and let him do it for her.
Aaaannnd that was why she knew she couldn’t let him. “I need to do it.”
“Okay.” He released her hand and, after brushing back more tears, she first told their private message thread what happened, then posted a brief message in the class group.
I’m sorry I don’t have more information, and I hate to have to tell everyone like this, but my friend and cousin, Cara Florian, passed away at home late yesterday. We don’t know the cause of death yet, but early suspicion is some sort of allergic reaction. I don’t have any news about funeral arrangements yet.
She wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t let Brandon proofread it for her before she sent it. She was going to set her phone down when it rang in her hand.
Kendall.
“Hey, bro.”
“Yeah, hey. It’s going to be next weekend, on Saturday, in Laguna Beach. Ignatia Brothers Funeral Home. Mom and Dad are helping them get the arrangements taken care of. I don’t have the exact time yet. Her brother is in the middle of the Gulf on an oil rig, and the earliest he can fly off is this coming Monday. He’s a supervisor or something.”
She closed her eyes. Well, that figured, that she’d have an answer as soon as she said she didn’t. “Okay. That gives me some breathing room.”
“Mom wanted to know if you’re bringing Emma.”
Phrased more like an order than a question. It was the tone in which he’d said it. That borderline condescending tone, the one that sounded like he thought he was talking to an idiot.
The tone her siblings and parents always used on her when gathered together as a hunting pack, ready to start pecking away at her.
For her own good, of course. That’s how it was always couched, the “helpful” information and advice that they told her she should take.
“She didn’t know Cara,” Tracey said. “And she has a swimming meet, plus she has plans that I won’t make her change.” Okay, so she didn’t have a meet next Saturday, but she knew Brandon wouldn’t begrudge her that fib and would back her up on it. And Emma and Grace did have plans, tickets to a concert at the Van Wezel.
Kendall apparently hadn’t anticipated that response. “This is more important. Mom and Dad would like to see her.”
“Then Mom and Dad should take time out of their busy lecture schedule next time they’re in Tampa for a month. Like last summer. They didn’t even bother to tell me they’d been here until after they were home, and then they made it sound like it was my fault for not reading their minds and knowing they were in town.”
The feel of Brandon’s hand stroking her forehead grounded her and reminded her she didn’t have to do this.
When he took the phone from her, she let him.
“Kendall? Hey, this is Brandon. … Yes, Emma’s dad, Brandon. Sorry, but Emma’s had this planned for months and the tickets aren’t refundable. … Yes, well, I’m sure she would have loved to have seen them last year when they were in Tampa for several weeks. Shame your folks were too busy to reach out to their granddaughter while they were in town.”
Tracey looked up and spotted his smile. Standing behind the couch, Jeff wore a grin.
The sadist at play.
“Well, if Charles and Margot have a problem with that, feel free to tell them to call me directly and take it up with me. They have my cell number, it hasn’t changed. But considering Emma is my daughter, I’m not going to order her to go to a funeral for someone she didn’t even know just to stroke the egos of my ex-in-laws, and so they can parade her around to their friends and family. Especially when she has a life of her own to live. Feel free to quote me on that one. Good-bye.” He ended the call, still wearing that smile. “Yeah, you’re going to need Jeff to go with you to run interference.”
Jeff’s grin widened. “Oooh, do I get to be in Toppy mode, Master?”
“Sort of.” Brandon’s expression softened as he stared into her eyes again. “We take care of our family. If it wasn’t for this new store being built right now, I’d go myself.”
* * * *
Tracey upda
ted their friends in the group about what she knew. Someone local contacted the funeral home and said they’d keep the others posted once a time was decided.
And then the world exploded. Figuratively speaking.
Before Tracey knew it, people in their high school class Facebook group were planning an all-out makeshift reunion centered around attending Cara’s funeral. Several of them had already reached out to Cara’s brother, John, Jr., also known as JJ, people who were closer friends of his than Tracey was.
By the time Emma arrived home, a hotel in Laguna had been picked and a discounted block rate arranged by one of their classmates, who was a travel agent. When Tracey told Brandon that, he had Jeff reserve them a room with two beds before the place sold out, and book the flights to LA late Thursday, flying home on Sunday.
This was moving too fast. “I thought I was paying for the hotel?”
“You are,” Brandon said. “You can pay with your card when you get there. We’re just holding the reservation so you have a room.”
“Hey, I’ll even bring some Xanax with me and share with you if you need them,” Jeff joked.
“And if he could face down Stuart’s brother in less than perfect health,” Brandon said, “then you know he’ll be able to run interference for you with your family.” He smiled. “Probably best you don’t have Emma and Grace with you.”
Emma snorted. “She stabs one guy with a barbecue fork, and suddenly she’s branded a psycho for life.”
* * * *
Tracey kept checking in on Facebook. By the time she left Brandon’s later that evening, a rough schedule of events had been set up, including a post-funeral group dinner Saturday night at a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel. Someone had set up a Facebook event for it, and there were already forty people listed as going.
It…didn’t feel real.
Cara had been extremely popular in school, driven, wanting to change the world. Active in student government and service clubs, she’d gone on to be a civil rights attorney, too busy for a relationship. She didn’t even have any pets. It hadn’t been a very lucrative line of work for her, because she handled a lot of pro bono cases and helped a lot of nonprofits, but she’d always said how fulfilled she’d felt, and that was worth more to her than money.
Barely thinking, Tracey drove home to Ruth’s. Ruth did a double-take when Tracey walked in.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” Ruth looked…concerned.
Tracey slumped onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. “No, I’m not.” When Tracey finished telling the story, she stared at her hands, where she had them clasped on the counter. “I…I don’t know. There has to be more to life and I’m missing it.”
Ruth, who’d been happily divorced for over fifteen years, let out a snort. “I don’t know. I’ve been happier single than I ever was with a guy.”
Tracey finally dragged herself back to her feet. She needed a shower and a drink, and not necessarily in that order, although considering her mood she decided maybe it was best to hold off on the drink for now.
In her room she spotted a small stack of boxes sitting in the corner. She dug through them until she found the one she wanted. Pulling out her three high school yearbooks, she sat cross-legged on the end of her bed and paged through them. Cara always seemed lit by an inner glow, like a physical manifestation of her drive and determination.
Unlike Tracey’s siblings, Cara had never, not once, thrown it in Tracey’s face that she didn’t go to college. She’d always supported and cheered Tracey, always encouraged her. Tracey had talked to her about taking the chance to apply for the college program through work, and Cara had told her to go for it.
Cara had loved Brandon, and Brandon had thought Cara was a sweetheart.
It was still hard for Tracey to believe she’d never talk to her again.
Ever.
Despite knowing the additional emotional pain it’d cause her, Tracey paged through to pictures of Eric, the ones in the books and the photos she’d tucked inside the covers for safekeeping after saying good-bye to him.
Someone else who, at one time, she’d never dreamed she’d ever say good-bye to.
It was ironic that Brandon had been so much like Eric in so many ways. Strong, dominant. Never domineering.
The sex had been fantastic.
Whoever ended up with him is one damn lucky lady.
Upon returning to her room after her shower, she found a text from Brandon.
Are you all right?
She knew better than to lie to him, but didn’t want to burden him with this. This wasn’t his battle to fight. Not anymore, although it touched her that he wanted to support her through this.
Part of her hated herself for her weakness, for caving and allowing Jeff to go with her.
Except…
Sometimes, it was better not to fight a battle if it didn’t need to be fought.
She knew in her heart this was one of those times.
Eventually, I will be. Thank you for everything today. And thank you for letting Jeff go with me.
He replied a moment later.
You’re family. You’ll ALWAYS be family.
On that note she headed to bed, crying herself to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Tracey awoke the next morning to find one of the other admins in the Facebook group, Joleen, had appointed Tracey to be an admin, now that Cara was…well, dead.
She’d sent Tracey a PM about it.
You were her cousin, and I know how close you two were. I hope you don’t mind.
No, Tracey didn’t mind, although she wasn’t sure what the hell she was supposed to be doing as an admin.
Overnight, as people who lived on the west coast learned the news about Cara’s death, and started contributing ideas to the get-together, the plans had exploded from a tropical storm into a full-blown hurricane of a reunion. The original hotel was sold out, and the travel agent had called in favors to arrange for two overflow hotels nearby. There’d be two different socials at the main hotel, the original one, since they had a nice poolside bar, one on Friday night, and one on Saturday morning.
With a mug of coffee in hand, Tracey sat at the breakfast bar with her laptop and paged through posts, trying to get caught up.
Still no sign of Eric, although she resisted typing his name into Facebook to look for him. He wasn’t in the group, that much she knew.
Apparently, as the news rippled through their classmates, people were told about the group and Tracey approved several requests for membership, names she vaguely recognized when she went to their profiles and looked at their pictures.
I guess I sort of have an online social life now.
About the only kind she had time for. She had to close at work today, didn’t need to be there until eleven that morning, giving her a brief window of time to go through this.
Before she logged off to get a morning wake-up shower, her mother messaged her on Facebook.
Brandon was VERY rude to Kendall last night on the phone. Emma should be coming with you. We want to see her.
Tracey’d had it with her parents trying to flip things around on her to make it her fault.
Funny how you weren’t very interested in seeing her when you were in Tampa last year. We could have driven up several times for dinner during your stay. You could have come to one of her swim meets. But you didn’t even bother to tell us you were in town until after the fact, much less express an interest in seeing her then.
That met with electronic silence, which didn’t surprise her in the least. One thing her family hated was her pointing out the fallacies in their thinking and making them the bad guys.
Maybe the spine implant Brandon had desperately tried to give her during their time together had retroactively taken hold.
She closed down her laptop and headed to the bathroom to get ready. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.
Especially when it was the same shit, different day, and stale bullshit that
was decades old.
* * * *
On the Thursday they were flying out, Tracey went to pick up Jeff. She’d drive them to TIA and they’d leave her car in the long-term parking lot. She found him alone at home, which was fine, because Tracey had seen Emma, Grace, and the other two men the night before, at dinner there.
Tracey’s parents and siblings had remained silent since she’d rebuffed her mother’s snark. Her aunt, uncle, and cousin, however, were looking forward to seeing her at the funeral and had assured her she was welcomed and wanted her sitting with them during the service.
Jeff wore a playful grin. “Ready to kick some ass?”
“I have a feeling my family isn’t going to know what hit them.”
“Only if they’re rude asshats.”
“Which they probably will be, when it comes to me.” She helped him with his bag, not wanting him to have to carry it and possibly jostle his PICC line. He locked the door behind him and, a few minutes later, they were on their way toward the interstate.
“I’m looking forward to this,” Jeff said. “I mean, not that it’s your cousin’s funeral. I’m sorry about that. I mean the trip in general. I’ve never been out there before.”
“I have no clue what it’s going to be like when we get there. I haven’t been there in well over a decade.”
“If at any time this weekend your family tries to crawl up your ass, feel free to step back and turn me loose on them. I’m sooo looking forward to this, you have no idea.”
“Brandon gave you orders?”
“Oh, hell, yeah. You honestly think he wouldn’t?”
“I’d have been shocked if he hadn’t.”
Blues Beach [Suncoast Society] Page 6
