The Place I Belong

by Inez Kelley

  Several people gathered in small groups around the entranceway. Some were clearly funeral home employees while others seemed uncomfortable and solemn. The rain had ceased but everything was sodden and limp. Without warning, he opened his door and marched to her side to help her out.

  “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  Zury slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, determined that at least one person here would comfort him. Conversations stopped and a few people gawked as they climbed the building steps and went inside. A recorded track of instrumental hymns played in the background, carried on the floral-scented air. Several viewing rooms opened off the foyer. Only one was in use today, spilling mourners into the arched doorway.

  Outside the doorway stood a pedestal with a sign-in book and a stack of memory cards. Zury signed both their names and took two cards, passing one to Jonah. He stuck it in his pants pocket without looking. Zury opened the small card and froze. His mother’s name was Jubilee Grace, wife of Reuben, mother to Noah, grandmother to Maya. Jonah’s name wasn’t listed at all.

  Jonah stopped just inside the room. At the front of the long chamber, a plain casket lay draped with a spray of red and white roses. Zury glanced around, realizing how out of place they looked. The men, down to the very last one, all wore crisp white button-down shirts fastened all the way to their necks. Pants color varied from black to brown to navy and the occasional olive, but Jonah’s was the only suit apart from the staff. Suddenly the lack of white dress shirts in his closet took on more meaning.

  The women’s dresses were plain, simple solids or basic floral patterns. The sleeves were long and the necklines high. The hems reached far below the knees, and not a single female wore heels. From the young teens to the elderly, all the women had long hair pinned up into serviceable buns. Her nape began to itch as she fingered the back of her pixie cut. Her dress was modest by most standards but with her bare arms and uncovered knees, she felt exposed.

  “You could have warned me to dress like a Laura Ingalls reject.”

  A wry lift on his mouth accompanied his snort. “You’re perfect, forget them.”

  Rows of chairs left a center aisle that led to the casket. In front of the chairs on either side were two couches for family members. A dark-haired man sat with an elderly male, a pretty young blonde beside him. She tapped the younger man on his shoulder and whispered. He turned and his mouth fell open.

  He rose, walking hurriedly up the aisle. Most of the others seated also turned to look, but not a single welcome expression bloomed. If anything, brows creased and mouths turned down. From the couch, the elderly man’s face turned red. The young woman patted his hand and leaned close to whisper.

  Zury couldn’t hear what the blonde said but clearly heard other murmurs coming from those seated. Like a hissing snake pit, the room filled with a soft rumble. She could catch only bits and pieces, but it was enough.

  “Is that...the audacity to show his face... Never thought I’d see the day...backslider...wicked boy...nonbeliever... Look at her...not American...Jezebel...broke his mother’s heart... No wedding ring...burn in hell.”

  Protectiveness flared inside Zury’s chest. She wanted to plaster herself in front of him, to shield him from the outright hostility. Her teeth clamped tight and she fisted her hand, focusing her attention on the approaching young man. If he said one unkind word, she was decking him and dragging Jonah out of here by his ears.

  The open welcome on his face dispelled her fears. “You came.”

  “The one thing I never was was a liar, little brother.” A sardonic curl raised one corner of Jonah’s lip. “Although you’re not so little anymore.”

  “But I’m still your brother.” Noah looked at Jonah’s offered hand then shook his head and hugged him. Jonah gripped him back for a few seconds. When Noah pulled away, his eyes were bright. “I’ve missed you.”

  Side by side, it was easier to tell they were brothers. They looked alike, had the same coloring and height, though Noah was stockier. But dressed in his white dress shirt and tan pants, Noah stood in stark contrast to Jonah’s all-black ensemble.

  Jonah drew her forward. “This is my friend, Zury Castellano. My brother, Noah.”

  “Lo siento mucho. I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  He shook her hand, his smile just as charming as the man’s beside her. “Thank you. I’d like you to meet my wife, Courtney, but she’s sitting with Dad right now.”

  “Courtney?” A quizzical slant to his brow, Jonah studied his brother. “Not a biblical name.”

  Noah shrugged. “Some things have changed.”

  “And some things haven’t,” Jonah muttered, glaring at the crowd. Most turned away, refusing to meet his eye. “Not exactly like they prepared the fatted calf, is it?”

  “Ignore them.” Noah tried to draw them to the front, to sit with the other family members, but Jonah balked. But he did pull himself to his full height and walk toward the front of the room. Beneath his jacket sleeve, the muscles in his biceps trembled. She squeezed and he covered her hand with his, leading her to the open casket.

  His mother was petite, gray-haired and delicate, resting on a bed of white satin. Dressed in a dark blue dress with a small cameo broach, she cradled a small Bible and a daisy. A slight quiver formed on his chin but he firmed it, flattening his lips to his teeth. He reached down and placed his hand over one of his mother’s.

  “Daisies were always her favorite.” His voice was gravelly with restraint. “She hated roses, said they smelled like rotten potatoes.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “So small. She was always a bitty thing but I remember her as bigger...younger.”

  He closed his eyes and stood silent for a long moment. One slow breath and his eyes opened. He patted her hand, wedged his jaw tight, and turned away. Directly behind them, his father stood with a scowl, salt-and-pepper brows wild and untamed.

  Wrinkles carved into his face and his nose was bent, hawklike. At one time, he might have been Jonah’s height but now stood slightly stooped. His gnarled hand gripped a wooden cane like a weapon. Several of his fingers curled in, unusable, and the skin was pockmarked with scars. Snakebite wounds, she realized.

  His white shirt was stiff, as if newly purchased and overly starched. It hung around his bony shoulders and gaped at the neckline as if it were too big. He didn’t look well, but the animosity pouring off him was stronger than any Zury’d ever felt. It made her skin crawl.

  “You’re not welcome here.”

  All talking stopped. Every eye focused on them, on the not-quiet outburst from Reuben Alcott. Jonah’s teeth ground together audibly. “She was my mother.”

  His father’s thin lips disappeared and bright splotches erupted on his gaunt cheeks. His bright blue eyes, exactly like ones she loved looking into in another face, raked over them with disgust. “You’re no son of mine.”

  One eye twitched but Jonah said nothing. Tension vaulted high, coating the room in thick, invisible layers. Zury could barely breathe. Neither Jonah nor his father moved, eyes locked on each other like wolves preparing to clash. Several other men rose from their seats, huddling around the old man and sending scathing glowers. Zury tried to pull Jonah away but he was an immovable stone block.

  “Jonah, please,” she whispered.

  Jonah blinked, then let loose an empty smile. The cold sneer peeled his lips back from his teeth. “This is Mom’s day. I won’t ruin it.”

  The collective of men surrounding Reuben led him back to the family couch and sent angry, hate-filled looks at Jonah. The urge to flip them all off itched in her palms. With the situation defused, people settled back to their seats and the whispering once more grew. She caught Noah’s apologetic look and sent him a weak smile before following Jonah down the aisle.

  He refused to sit, standing stiff a
s a board in the back for the entire service. Although there were empty chairs near him, Zury chose to stand by his side. She listened intently, hoping to learn what type of woman had raised the man she loved because there was no way someone as full of life and as decent as Jonah had stemmed solely from Reuben Alcott’s gene pool.

  Apparently, Jubilee Grace Alcott had been a kind woman with a ready smile, an infectious laugh and a gentle nature. She’d served as a member of several women’s groups, most of them having some root in her small denominational church. There was no mention of her firstborn or how he came to be estranged from them. Many tears were shed but none from Jonah. Noah’s shoulders quaked and his wife rubbed his back as she pressed tissue after tissue into his hands. Reuben never flinched, his stoic features locked on to the casket.

  The instant the last hymn finished, Jonah pulled out his sunglasses, put them on and turned for the exit. The rain had fled, lending a crispness to the air. Already the summer sun was sucking the moisture from the ground. Zury let the stress drain out of her shoulders as she descended the porch stairs.

  “Jonah!” Noah called out as people began streaming from the funeral home. He caught up with them near the edge of the parking lot. “Are you coming to the cemetery?”

  “No. I’ve said my goodbyes.”

  “Courtney and I were hoping you’d join us for dinner after the service.”

  “We’re headed home now.”

  Noah’s smile dimmed. People walked past them, headed for their vehicles, craning their necks to get another look and showing blatant interest in the conversation. He dropped his voice. “Jonah, please. It’s been a long, long time. Can’t you give me a few hours? You haven’t even met your niece.”

  The cords in Jonah’s throat jumped with his swallow. “You have a daughter?”

  “Yeah, Maya. She’s four.” He dug into his pocket and brought out his phone. Pulling up a picture, he showed Jonah. “That’s her. She’s with my in-laws now. A funeral is no place for a little girl.”

  A bright-eyed girl surrounded by dolls blew kisses to the camera. A small grin appeared on Jonah’s face. “Cute kid.”

  “Yeah, that’s my girl.” So much paternal pride glowed on Noah’s face that Zury smiled. Out of everyone who’d attended the funeral, only one hadn’t been unreceptive. It was obvious to Zury that there was a still a bond there, one that time hadn’t broken. She couldn’t let Jonah throw it away.

  She pounced. “We haven’t checked out of the hotel yet. I’m sure we can extend our stay another night. We’d love to come to dinner, thank you.”

  Although Jonah’s eyes were shaded, Zury felt the heat of his scowl and promptly ignored it.

  Noah’s face glowed. “Great. Say about six? We’re in Chesterfield, the last house on Old Martin road. Do you remember where that is?”

  “I remember.” Jonah fingered his keys. “We better go change then.”

  A brief goodbye was exchanged then Jonah laced his fingers with hers and turned toward the back parking lot.

  “As Sodom and Gomorrah burned, you will feel the fire of hell come Judgment Day!” Reuben’s shout stopped their feet. Jonah’s grip went to bruising and his lips pinched white.

  Zury wrapped her arms around his waist and brought her lips to his ear. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

  “Don’t you dare come to the cemetery, backslider. We’ll bury my wife in peace, without your filth desecrating hallowed ground.”

  “Go to hell, old man,” Jonah snapped over his shoulder.

  A rumble of outrage burst into the air. The swing of a wooden cane came fast and hard, striking Jonah across the back. It clipped her finger and she instinctively jerked her hand away. Jonah roared.

  Everything happened in a blur of white and one huge black spot. Jonah slammed his father against the building wall, pressed his forearm across his throat and ripped the cane from his hand. Funeral goers pulled at his shoulders and his arms, but he stood as solid as granite with the cane poised to crash into the old man’s face.

  “You’ve hit me for the last time, you son of a bitch.” Sweat dotted his brow and his pale eyes blazed with wrath. He leaned harder on his arm and Reuben’s lips turned blue. “I’m glad she’s dead. It means she’s free of you and your twisted control.”

  Noah wedged between them, wrested the cane away and threw it to the ground. He clamped his arms around Jonah and shoved, forcing his brother back. “Jonah, stop.”

  Reuben slid to the ground, gasping for air.

  “You beat her!” Struggling, Jonah charged forward but Noah held him. Two other men joined in, grabbing hold of Jonah’s flailing arms. “For cutting her hair, for thinking for herself, for baking a cake on Sunday. That isn’t love, you fuckwit, it’s evil. You’re an evil motherfucker who wasn’t worth her goddamned tears.”

  Zury wiggled into the knot of men and wrapped her arms around his waist. His entire body shook, furious violent tremors that scared her. “Stop, mi vida. It’s over. She’s gone and you’re safe. Let’s just go.”

  Supported by white-shirted men, Reuben smoothed his ruffled hair and looked down his hooked nose. He took his cane, lifting his chin in indignation as he pushed away from the wall. “‘He that curses his father, or his mother, surely deserves death.’ You’re dead to me. Take your Puerto Rican whore and crawl back to your sin-filled hovel.”

  “Fuck you,” Jonah spat.

  His fingers tightened on her waist as a wave of ice-cold rage whipped through her. She spun around and cemented Reuben with a defiant stare. Hot breath sailed across her dry lips as she seethed on Jonah’s behalf.

  “Don’t talk about curses, old man, unless you’re prepared to deal with mine.” With slow and deliberate movements, aware she had an audience, she fanned two fingers of each hand in front of her closed eyes, then snapped them back and popped open her eyes. They locked directly on Jonah’s father. She blasted the Evil Eye in Reuben’s direction while pointing at his chest. “¡Puerto Rican tu madre, so desgraciado, hijo de puta, viejo decrépito!”

  Her fingers flew, repeating a strange motion she had only seen the old ladies in her mother’s old church perform, cursing him with mal de ojo. Reuben’s eyes bugged. She glared just a few seconds longer to make sure he felt the full impact of her useless show of a curse then spat on the ground at his feet. The Lord’s Prayer spilled from his trembling lips.

  Heart pounding hard against her ribs, she grabbed Jonah’s hand and hauled him toward the Mustang. His sunglasses lay on the pavement where they’d been knocked off. She snatched them from the ground without breaking her stride. Jonah opened her door and helped her into the seat. “What did you say to him?”

  Her mouth quirked up on one side as she handed him his sunglasses. “Nothing really, called him a few names. But he thinks I said a whole lot worse. Let him spend a few days on his arthritic old knees praying for protection. I don’t care.”

  He dropped a hard kiss on her mouth. “Zury Castellano, you’re one hell of a woman. Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “He’s a sad, sick human being. Un viejo cabrón. Forget him.”

  The closed casket was being wheeled to a black hearse as they left the parking lot but no one was looking. Every person watching them leave had anger on their faces except for one. Noah looked almost proud.

  * * *

  Jonah sat on the step and leaned his head against the back porch railing, watching his brother push his niece on her swing set in the yard. A smile spread across his face. His baby brother was a daddy, and judging by the squealing laughter, a good one. The smile faded as his thoughts turned to his own father.

  Fucking bastard. It was hard enough coming back for a funeral, but the old man kept pushing. He shrugged his shoulder but the only remaining sensation was a tenderness on his shoulder blade. Idly, he thought about assault charges but he’d ret
aliated so it was six of one, half a dozen of the other. Still, the urge to ram his fist straight into Reuben Alcott’s face had been a heady tonic. If Noah hadn’t pulled him away and Zury hadn’t stepped between them, he might have done it. It was a pleasant fantasy.

  His brother had surprised him. He’d always thought Noah was preprogrammed to follow his father’s path, worshipping in the isolated church, shying away from the outside world and bathing in a twisted version of Christianity. He’d expected him to marry one of the biblically named Church of the Holy Shepherd’s congregation and perpetuate the cycle. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Despite his white shirt this morning, Noah now wore blue jeans and a navy T-shirt with a local garage logo on it. Although he hadn’t gone to college, he’d trained as an electrician and worked for the local power company. He’d married the daughter of a nearby bar owner, which most likely had infuriated the old man. Their daughter had been born in a hospital, and there wasn’t a snake to be seen, just a lop-eared mutt who followed Maya everywhere.

  From what Jonah could gather, they were still devout but not obsessively so. Their small saltbox home was bright and cheery, with a television and computer, and Courtney had worn shorts to prepare their meal. The grilled steaks had been prepared outside but supplemented with baked casseroles and cold sliced fruit.

  Zury had asked questions that sparked stories, not questions, and the main theme was reconnection. Noah and his wife had been extremely welcoming to Zury. Even now, he could hear her and Courtney cleaning up inside the kitchen and laughing.

  Courtney’s hair was short too, although not as short as Zury’s. She had it clipped back into a ponytail. She had a job outside the house, and Maya went to daycare.

  It was nearly surreal for Jonah.

  Noah caught his daughter, lifting her off the swing. She scrambled up the steps beside Jonah and stopped. Her cherubic mouth puckered in contemplation. “Uncle Jonah, how’d you get out of the fish’s tummy?”