At that moment, the frame that held Ellie’s picture toppled from the sill to the floor and shattered.
Michael glanced at the web of glass slivers, only mildly curious as to how the fall occurred, since his father hadn’t touched the frame, or how a tumble onto carpet could have caused so much damage. He was more interested in the irony of what he saw. Sharp broken pieces, worth nothing more than pain to the one who handled them. A mosaic of his father.
“Just what you wanted, Dad. Pieces to pick up,” Michael said, and left.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Anna sat in a folding chair, which someone had placed in the back corner of the viewing room. Maria and Felicia, Antony’s sisters, sat next to her, assigned as her guardians for the time being. Antony was the only one Ephraim told about her impious act and that was only because he’d helped Ephraim pull her off Thalia. Everyone else had been charged with keeping her away from the casket. “For her own protection,” Ephraim had said.
For hours, Anna had watched people file in and out of the room. Most of the chairs had been removed to allow more space for the crowd. Men sat on the floor cross-legged, talking and laughing while women served them food and drinks. Lenora flitted about, visiting with one person or another and periodically checking for evaporation in her water glass. Lenora maintained the old custom of placing a drinking glass filled with water on a stool at the head of the casket. The meaning of the custom was divided amongst the tribe. To some the water assured the dead would never thirst. To others it was a method used to ward off evil spirits during the deceased’s transference to the other side. To Anna, the stupid water glass meant nothing if it could not resurrect her Thalia. Either way, Lenora had kept busy, making certain the glass remained brim-filled and that her brass bowl, which had been placed alongside the water, plumed continuously with hickory-scented smoke.
Ephraim had spent most of his time drinking and singing old love songs. Occasionally, he’d swagger by, and give Anna a contemptuous sneer. At any other time and in any other place, she might have worried about his scorn. But not today, not anymore.
A sudden shift in activity told Anna they were nearing the end of the service. People started to vacate the room, leaving only those who had been invited to remain. The chosen men stayed seated on the floor in a semicircle while a large group of women lined up against the walls. A mandolin began to play, and Antony, in a trembling, baritone voice, sang ‘Of Seasons Past’ in their native tongue. Anna had to hold onto the seat of her chair to keep from bolting out of the room.
The end had come too fast. Soon she would have to say goodbye to her beloved child, and she wasn’t ready. She would never be ready to carry the measure of sorrow that forever meted out. It was all consuming, so eager to devour her. Anna clutched her hands to her breast and reminded herself that the pain was but for a short time. In a while, none of this would matter.
As Antony’s song reached its climax, Roslyn entered the room, carrying a long, unlit white candle. She handed it to Ephraim, who took it and laid it across Thalia’s chest, being careful not to touch the clothes or body with his hand.
“Let there be no darkness in your travels,” he said, his voice strong and clear despite the level of alcohol consumption. He nodded to Roslyn, and she took her place against the wall with the rest of the women.
Lenora stepped forward, faced her son, and bowed her head. Loud murmuring echoed from the doorway as people in the hall pressed tightly together, straining to see what was about to take place.
The men sitting on the floor began to chant, “Drosna, drosna,” a drunken Roma version of ‘peace be with you.’ From their pockets, they drew silver coins and dollar bills, each man forming a little pile with his money in front of him.
Ephraim touched his mother’s shoulder, and she turned to face the women against the walls. She lifted both hands, and one by one the women walked to the center of the semicircle and deposited bits of cloth, jewelry, and small sacks of food.
When they were done, Lenora entered the circle, sat back on her haunches, then began sorting through the gifts. She pulled aside anything she considered unfit. When she completed her task, Lenora stood and signaled for Maria and Felicia to bring Anna to her.
Anna clung to her seat, refusing to budge. If she moved, someone would surely see what she had hidden beneath her shoe, and she couldn’t let that happen because they’d take it away. It had taken her the longest time to find it, searching through so many pockets, so many purses.
“You must come and bless gifts,” Ephraim commanded with a lift of his chin. His eyes blazed with fury. “They will be of no use to her, Anna, if you do not.”
Anna sat quietly, feeling every eye in the room rest on her.
Maria pressed her lips to Anna’s right ear. “Don’t be afraid. I will go with you.”
“You come or I will get you myself,” Ephraim said, and pushed his fedora farther back on his head.
“Anna, come.” Felicia tugged on her arm. “Why you not want to bless Thalia’s gifts?”
Anna brushed Felicia’s hand away, knowing she’d have to do something before Ephraim physically moved her. Gradually she stood, and the room and every face in it wavered in slow, horizontal lines. Her face felt flushed, and her body swayed. Maria and Felicia grabbed her arms, bracing her upright. Anna heard throats clear as she considered her dilemma.
She couldn’t slide her right foot along the floor while she walked because the carpet would snag the tool and keep it from moving with her. And besides, it would look too obvious. With everyone staring at her, she couldn’t very well lean over, move her foot and pick it up either. That left only one option.
When Anna felt Maria and Felicia’s grasp loosen, she allowed her knees to buckle and collapsed in a heap.
Lenora shouted something incoherent as Anna groped for the object now under her leg. Finding it, she clutched it tight and winced.
Maria and Felicia chattered frantically and pulled Anna to her feet.
“Be careful, Maria,” Felicia said, pushing her sister aside. “You will make her fall again.”
“You are the one pushing,” Maria said, straightening the kerchief on her head. The heavy gold jewelry around her neck clanged like chimes in a strong wind. “Watch for her hand, the bandaged one.”She lowered her voice and pulled on Anna’s left arm. “Anna, please. Get up.”
“Get to your feet, woman,” Ephraim shouted, spittle flying from his lips. “Now!”
Ephraim’s condescension seemed to split nerves in Anna’s jaw. A peculiar sensation moved across her face, and only when she rose to her feet again did she realize what it was. A smile, growing wider by the second. Anna peered at Maria and Felicia, whose expressions became nothing short of dumbstruck.
“Let go of me,” Anna said, and a giggle escaped her.
The women released Anna and backed away like they’d just discovered she carried a contagion. Anna’s giggle grew louder, and she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to control herself.
She walked toward Ephraim and saw Lenora lean into him and whisper. Ephraim nodded earnestly, which caused his hat to fall askew over his right eye. The sight of his crooked hat drew a burst of laughter from Anna so loud and long, it made her sides hurt. She stumbled blindly into one of the men sitting on the floor, and he scurried away from her as though bitten. When Anna was able to focus on the confused faces all around her, she stopped, threw her head back, and roared with laughter.
It took several moments for her to start moving again. Her sides and stomach ached terribly, and she began to hiccup. Anna’s brain felt useless, fumbling aimlessly to find a reason for her laughter but not finding one. The possibility that she was losing her mind did occur to her, but that thought seemed even funnier than the lopsided hat.
The next thing Anna knew she was standing in front of Ephraim. She blinked, and her husband suddenly doubled over and cupped his groin, his eyes wide with disbelief and anguish. Anna stopped laughing, but a smile remained plastered on he
r face. A rush of adrenaline gave way to an overwhelming sense of freedom. In the time it had taken Anna to blink, she’d kneed Ephraim—hard. Maybe hard enough to keep him from walking upright again. Maybe not.
If nothing else, it stopped her hiccups.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Large, gravy-laden meatballs established the line between sanity and insanity. Or so it seemed to Michael the moment one flew over his head and landed with a splat across the picture of Saint Peter’s Cathedral in the hall. The people milling around him only glanced back at the mess like it was the newest fare in haute cuisine.
“The food’s got to go!” Michael said over the rumble of voices. “This is getting way out of—”
A middle-aged woman in a hot pink tent dress let out a shrill, incoherent squawk and spat on Michael’s pant leg. The crowd swallowed her into obscurity before he had time to react.
“Michael!” An urgent voice called above the din. One frantically waving arm rose above the landscape of heads near the reception desk. Sally’s lopsided bun bobbed beside it.
“Jesus, now what?” Michael grumbled. Trying to ignore the wet stain on his trousers, which looked suspiciously like tobacco juice, he made his way to Sally.
When he reached her, she lifted two fingers, then pointed to the receiver lodged against her ear. “—as soon as possible,” she said into the phone. “Yes. Thank you.” She hung up and shook her head. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said to Michael. “We’ve got two pickups to make at Magnolia.”
Michael closed his eyes for a second, feeling another ton drop onto his already overloaded shoulders. “How soon?”
“They want the bodies out in an hour.”
“Ask them for a little more—”
“I already tried buying more time, but you know how the aides get when there’s a dead body around.” Sally picked up a notepad from the desk and ripped off the top sheet. “You want me to send them to Pellerin’s?”
“No.” The thought of sending business to his shark-toothed, greasy-palmed competitor made Michael cringe. He wouldn’t have sent Judas Iscariot to the man.“Where’s Chad?”
“In the viewing room, I think. He said something about a kid taking a dump in one of the potted plants or a kid dumped over a potted plant—I don’t know, one or the other. He’s probably cleaning—” The corners of her mouth dropped abruptly. “Michael, you can’t send Chad to Magnolia. We’re having a hard enough time handling everything now. One more person short and we’ll keel—”
“I’ll help.”
The sound of Wilson’s voice made Michael do a double take over his shoulder. His father stood behind him, a hand traveling restlessly between chin and shirt collar.
Michael turned and eyed him warily.
“No, really,” Wilson said. A smile that seemed to hold old hurts and new hope quivered on his face. “While your apprentice is out making the removals at the nursing home, I’ll help out here.”
“Thank God,” Sally breathed.
Although Michael suspected that his father’s prodigious generosity carried an ulterior motive, like changing his son’s mind about the money, he needed the extra pair of hands. If Wilson wanted to grabble with false hope, that was his problem.
“All right,” Michael said, checking his watch. “We’ll be doing last call soon. You can give me a hand with that while Chad’s gone. When he gets back from Magnolia—”
A loud wail erupted from the viewing room, and every head whipped in that direction.
“Shit and crackers,” Wilson exclaimed. “What the hell was that?”
“Trouble,” Sally said, indicating the crowd now shoving as one coagulated mass to get inside the viewing room.
Michael looked at his father.
“Right behind you,” Wilson said.
Slightly unnerved by his father’s support, Michael wet his lips before charging through the throng.
Wilson literally held to his word, pressing himself against Michael’s back as they forged ahead. He shouted, “S’cuse me!” repeatedly until they made it inside.
Just as Michael stepped over the threshold, he saw Ephraim swing a hand across his wife’s face. The slap rang loud and sharp, and Ephraim immediately drew his hand back, preparing for another strike.
“No!” Without thinking, Michael leaped forward, but before he could reach Ephraim, a thick, hairy arm clotheslined him in the gut. Michael dropped to his knees with a groan, and the bitter ring of another slap echoed overhead.
Ephraim shouted in a strange language, and someone promptly helped Michael to his feet. Breathing hard, Michael found his footing and fisted his hands. Ephraim glared at him, then without a word, turned away and trudged toward the casket.
Two crying women led Ephraim’s wife to the back of the room. Angry welts blazed across Anna’s cheeks, but her eyes remained dry, her expression eerily detached.
Michael’s fists tightened until fingernails cut into his palm. The pain was the only way he could stop himself from running after Ephraim and drop-kicking the sonofabitch.
“I must apologize for Polamu,” Antony said, suddenly appearing beside Michael. He pointed the knob of his chin toward the Titan-sized man pacing Ephraim. “His job is but to protect. Are you damaged?”
“I’ll live,” Michael snapped.
Antony sighed. “This is good. But you must not interfere again, Mr. Savoy. My cousin Ephraim, as leader, does what he must to preserve order.”
“Order?” Michael glowered at him. “He hit his wife, for God’s sake!”
“You would not understand,” Antony said.
“What’s there to understand?”
“Yeah, what the hell?” Wilson asked, emerging from some remote corner.
Antony shook his head slowly as one would to enthusiastic, but ignorant children. “The ways of our people are far too complex to explain to Gaji.”
Wilson aimed a finger at Antony. “Who you calling Gaji, boy?” He threw Michael a puzzled look. “What’s a Gaji?”
Michael ignored his father and folded his arms across his chest. “Listen, Antony, here’s something that isn’t difficult to explain at all. If he touches her again, I’m calling the police.”
“That would not be wise.”
“Regardless. I will call them. That’s a promise.”
Antony studied Michael for a long moment, then squared his shoulders. “We complete ceremony now.”
Sensing a silent victory, Michael raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine. I’ll announce last call.”
“What is this last call? Its purpose?”
“To allow everyone a final moment with the deceased. Then we close the casket and head for the cemetery.”
“Yes, we make last call then,” Antony said.
Wilson stepped in front of Michael and hitched up his belt, a preamble for assuming control. “Okay, then everyone needs to line up—”
“No, no,” Antony said. “We make last call.”
“Fine,” Wilson said, throwing up a hand. “Have at it.”
“Wait a minute,” Michael said, remembering the caution each visitor had used when approaching the casket. Not one of them wanted to touch the Thalia. Not even her clothes. “Are you saying you want to handle all the final preparations?” Michael asked. “Lower her head? Straighten her clothes? Close the casket?”
With a visible shiver, Antony shook his head. “No. We will need you for those tasks because we are not allowed to do such things. But for now, you may stand over there.” He indicated the opposite side of the room.
Wilson snorted, an implication that he was about to tell Antony exactly who had the right to stand where. Before he could, Michael grabbed his arm and pulled Wilson away. There had been enough upheaval for one day. It was time to send the Barnum and Bailey show on its way.
After settling his father against the far wall, Michael spotted Chad twenty feet away. The apprentice stood gray-faced and half-hidden behind a short, lumpish woman. When Michael caught his a
ttention, he mouthed for him to find Sally; confident she would tell Chad about the nursing home removals.
Chad nodded and hurried toward freedom.
Exhausted, Michael leaned back and closed his eyes, only to have them pried open by the high-pitched whine of a harmonica. He couldn’t locate the off-key musician, but there was no missing Lenora. She stood center stage amid a circle of men. The brass bowl she carried belched thick, acrid smoke. The smell reminded Michael of burning tires.
Wilson gagged beside him. “Damn. Smells like shit,” he muttered.
“Mia lona, mia rhine. Mia lona, mia rhine,” Lenora chanted, her body now swaying from side to side.
The men in the circle clapped, keeping time with her words. Their bodies rocked to match Lenora’s rhythmic movements. With eyes closed and mouths slightly open, they appeared closer to an orgasm than the end of a wake.
Michael peered over at Anna, who stared at the floor, seemingly oblivious to the activities. As though she sensed being watched, Anna pulled the kerchief tied to her head down low, covering her long, black widow’s peak.
Wilson nudged Michael, drawing his attention back to the center of the room. The chanting grew louder, and the swaying of pensive bodies more urgent. Ephraim, who stood in front of the casket, held two small, copper pots. He faced the circle of men and slammed the pots together three times. The clanging set Michael’s teeth on edge.
“We call all spirits dark and light,” Ephraim shouted over Lenora’s mantra. “You will make way for this child as I command.”
A cool breeze caressed Michael’s face, and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.
The chanting ceased abruptly, and the group of men on the floor gathered their individual piles of money and stood. Lenora walked past them and carried her bowl to the stool at the head of the casket. She waited there while the men lined up single file.
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