by Mika Jolie
Grief covered the entire congregation like a black shroud. Claire blew out a breath and slipped one hand in the crook of her mother’s arm, a desperate attempt to stabilize the wobbly nerves roiling in the pit of her stomach. Instead a fresh chill ran along her spine. Shadows of ghosts lurked in the open space, watching, whispering. She shivered. Cemeteries were places to keep the dead, held them prisoners, entombed in cement and dirt. The last time she stepped foot on this barren and shallow place was six years ago to bid farewell to Jason’s mother. It felt like yesterday.
“You okay?” Her mother asked as they headed toward the site where Luc was to be buried.
Under the wintry air, her breath rose in visible puffs. She glanced at her mother. Long braids sprinkled with gray streaks pulled back into a bun away from her barely wrinkled face. As always, her mother’s skin had a glow, despite the heartbreak from her first love, left alone pregnant at twenty-four, the financial hardship she faced growing up dirt-poor, she’d always maintained a positive outlook on life. And for that, Claire always found herself in awe of her mother.
“I’m fine.” She looked up to the sky. Overhead, dark clouds blotted out the sun, hanging over the stones of the dead like a heavy, suffocating sheath. Yet, the air smelled clean and crisp, nothing at all like rain.
Snow. A storm was brewing. The gods were either happy to welcome Luc home or upset over their tragic error.
She scanned the graveyard, hundreds of tombstones around her, each one bearing the name of someone who once lived on the island. Now, as the myth said, their souls roamed these lands, right where she stood. “I feel like I’m being watched by thousands of restless souls.”
“We think graveyards are spooky because we fear death,” her mother said in a reflective voice. “Why not think of it as a resting place?” She glanced at Claire and smiled. “A peaceful place to recall good memories.”
“Everything here screams final.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” Her gaze stayed on the six men carrying the mahogany coffin–Forrest, his lifelong friends, his godfather, Charles, and Adam’s father, Christiano–all dressed in black. Six strong men, yet, from time to time they had to stop and garner their strengths.
Claire’s gaze followed the multitude of mourners turned out to bid adieu to Luc. All around were tear-stained faces, shoulders slumped under the weight of death’s hand. Some chatted in a hushed tone, nodding with a smile over words spoken amongst them.
Once the coffin was placed by the dug-up soil, Charles and Forrest trudged over to Marjorie. Claire’s heart clenched at the sight of Forrest’s mother. Her eyes swollen with saturated grief, acknowledging the finality of death, never to look upon her husband’s face again, feel his embrace, or surrounded by his love. Charles said something to Forrest then wrapped Marjorie in the comfort of his arm. Pain etched the older man’s face. He’d been down this road before, this was his second time burying a loved one. His wife and now his best friend.
Claire peeked at Forrest–shoulders squared, face still and serious as he stared straight ahead into nothingness. The only thing that gave a hint of his agony was the few days old scruff he neglected to shave. Still, he looked perfectly put together. He always had a way of maintaining full control of any situation. She’d known him all of her life and could count on one hand the few times he’d lost control, most of them with her.
Along with her mother, Claire huddled by the tombstone next to Adam, Jason, Blake, and their wives. Greetings and hugs were already exchanged at the church, now as they stood by the cold earth where Luc was to be laid, silence prevailed.
“Would anyone like to say something before the final farewell?” the pastor asked.
Without a word, Charles released Marjorie to Forrest and walked up to the coffin. His fingers lingered on the casket. After a short pause, he looked up at the noiseless crowd. “Over thirty years ago while touring France with my beautiful fiancée, I met a big, goofy, French-American man who would become my best friend, my brother. I loved him.” He chuckled, a painful sound really and rubbed his temple. “Correction, I love him. Luc will always be the brother I never had. Today I say to you, a bientôt.” Charles paused and looked up into the heavens. “I’ll see you soon.” He touched the coffin one last time then walked over where Forrest and Marjorie stood.
“Forrest?” the pastor called.
Claire watched Forrest as he took steps on the hallowed ground and walked over to the coffin. He abruptly turned his face in her direction. Gray eyes locked onto hers and for a moment the whole world ceased to move. She wanted to touch him, caress his face, look into his eyes and tell him time had a way of healing all wounds. Eventually, even this great pain would become bearable, but she knew that was not entirely true. All she had to do was look deep into her heart, time failed to dim her memory. Lost under his spell, she smiled a little, to reassure him she was here, would always be here for him, no matter the distance.
With a slight nod her direction, as if he heard her unspoken words, Forrest squared his shoulders and addressed the crowd. “My father taught me everything I know. Everything I am is because of my parents. I love them.” He exhaled, gulped down his sorrow as his fingers skimmed along the coffin, his attention solely for the man who shaped him. “For the rest of my life, I will search for moments of you.” His breath came in a gasp and his lips tightened, then he spoke again. “Goodbye, Dad.”
Claire continued to stare up at Forrest. His chin trembled as he lowered his lips to the casket and bid his father a safe journey. Her chest constricted. Sadness welled in her throat, ready to overcome its wall.
“Today,” the pastor said, “we bid farewell to our dear friend Luc. Father, husband, and friend.”
That’s when the empty heartache seeped in. Forrest’s mother screamed her husband’s name as the coffin slowly lowered in the ground, mouth of Mother Earth swallowing her child. Through blurred vision, she watched Forrest. He clenched his jaw, struggling to hold back his grief, but hot torrents of grief coursed down his immobile face.
Her stomach twisted at the sight.
A piece of Forrest’s life was gone forever.
Sick in the gut and unable to continue looking at him, so hurt and broken, a feeling of helplessness washed over her. Knowing she couldn’t take away his pain, she gave him the only thing within her grasp. She stepped away from her mother, walked up to Forrest and squeezed his hand tightly in hers.
* * * *
About one hour later, Forrest stood in the large but cozy sitting room in Martha’s Way. He scanned the many faces in the crowd, voices talking over one another. Some carried a note of sorrow, while others filled with joy as they shared fond memories of his father.
His heart rankled and filled with emptiness. Needing an escape, he strode over to the large fireplace and gazed out of the window. Snowflakes floated from the heavens, covering bare branches and sticking to the remaining oak and beech leaves still clinging to the trees.
“Four months ago, I stood at this exact spot and couldn’t tell Liliana I loved her.”
Forrest pulled his gaze away from the window and glanced at Adam. “You were a fool.”
“But I was in love with her, you know. I was too arrogant and overwhelmed with fear.”
Claire walked by. She stopped to talk to Adam’s parents, then Charles before walking over to join Keely and Blake. Adam followed her movement. Forrest had no choice. Her presence—in the room, in his life—was a tornado swallowing him whole. His eyes swept over her, taking in every detail. She looked classically elegant in a form-fitting black dress, her thick hair pulled back in a bun, giving him full view of her face. She looked beautiful.
“When is she leaving?” Adam asked.
Forrest peeled his gaze away and shrugged. “Who knows.”
“I watched the two of you today and realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“The two of you slept together at some point.”
Forre
st lifted his glasses from his nose, and rubbed his eyes. “Dude, this is not the time.”
“I’m trying to make a point.”
“You should get to it. This is a repass.”
“You have a thing for her and she has a thing for you.”
Forrest peered at Claire again. She had moved and was talking to his mother and hers. “What’s your point?”
“Ever thought about giving in to whatever you two had once more?”
He stared at his friend.
Adam raked a hand through his hair. “We are family. Whatever the outcome is, nothing will break us.”
Forrest glanced at Claire talking to his mother. Charles walked over and joined them, said something to his mother and the two walked out of the room together. For the first time in the evening, Claire stood alone. Across the room, she looked up and held his gaze for a beat. Her eyes flickered in silent interrogation, then she treaded to where Jason, Minka, and Lily stood talking.
Disappointment rattled through him. What did he expect? Deep down, he knew the answer–for her to come to him. Dismissing the thought, he turned his attention back to the fallen snow. The last person he wanted to think about was Claire. Although if he cared to admit, truth was, she’d been occupying his mind all his life.
“What do you have to lose?” Adam pushed.
His heart. “My sanity.”
“I hate to tell you this but I think when it comes to Claire, you lost your sanity a long time ago.” He slapped Forrest back. “Think about it.”
“Are you singing the love song too?”
Adam laughed. “I’m in love with my wife, but I know it’s not for everyone. I’m saying I don’t want you to get all fucking depressed and internalize everything like I did.”
“And Claire somehow is the answer to my pain.”
“You’ll always have the memories of your father.” Adam exhaled. “Mine still haunts me. Bad or good, they stay with you.”
Adam had come a long way facing his past, but Forrest knew the road to get there had not been easy. He nodded, understanding his friend’s reference. In his heart of hearts, he knew memories never die, but right now the thought failed to bring him comfort.
“Life doesn’t stop,” Adam continued. “From where I’m looking, looks like she’s here for you.”
“She’s here because she’s tired and needs a break.”
“That may be partially true.” Adam shrugged. “But you’re the reason she’s back on the island.” He paused, glanced at Claire then back at Forrest. “Look, it’s obvious something is still there between you two lovebirds. See what happens. I have to get back to my pregnant wife. We’re gonna head out before the snow gets too heavy. See you at the potluck.”
The actual event was called a musical potluck. Music performed by local singers, lots of food, and mulled wine. It all started the Sunday before Thanksgiving for those who dared to stay behind on the island during the winter months. They danced, ate too much, drank, and laughed. With the exception of when Forrest was away for school, he’d never missed the get-together held at Chilmark Community Center. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Adam nodded. “Remember, we’re family. Whatever you need, we got your back.”
He watched Adam walk over to Lily. His friend placed a kiss on his wife’s lips and led her to where Blake and Jason were engaged in a conversation. The men shook hands, then hugged Lily goodbye.
Forrest examined the men who had become an extension of his family. His friendship with Jason came first, they grew up together. Their parents had been inseparable. Even after the death of Victoria, his parents still stayed close to Charles.
Somewhere along the way, he and Jason befriended Blake, later Adam. Expanding their circle, or wolf pack as Adam affectionately referred to them. Since Claire grew up in the same house with Jason, she’d always been around, whether they wanted her there or not. They often teased her because, well, she’d been a pain in the ass, always tagging along. Even when they just wanted to do boys things, such as sneaking beer, getting drunk, or playing a random sport shirtless on those lazy hot summer days, Claire had always wanted to play with the boys. The worst was when they played basketball, she couldn’t make a basket to save her life.
Once in a while they did let her play football, because she’d been a good distraction. The opposing team would jump at the opportunity to end up on top or under her after a strategic tackle. Jason used to complain the most for being stuck with her. Not only she followed him around, she also lived with him. In a way, she became the surrogate sister to them all.
Except for him. He never viewed her as a sister. As a scraggly little girl, she’d been a burden, a party pooper who eventually became a friend. Other than that, she’d always been a girl, and through the years she became a woman. A gorgeous one at that.
As hard as he tried to resist her, he broke the Do-Not-Touch Claire rule. The first time, he’d been twenty, she seventeen. Underage drinking with a sexy teenager had trouble written all over it. He’d known better. He did it anyway. On the night of her eighteenth birthday he eventually gave in to the sweet temptation that was Claire. Those incidents ignited the tension that still existed between them today.
Forrest took in a deep breath. Needing a diversion from thoughts of the one woman who continued to haunt him, he slipped out of the room and headed down the hall, toward the door. From there he’d escaped without being noticed. He needed air.
He walked by Jason’s office, Charles’ voice caught his attention. There was something in the older man’s tone, an urgency. Forrest slowed his steps and edged a little closer.
“You need to tell him, Marjorie.”
“Charles…” his mother’s voice trailed. “Not today.”
Forrest noted pain in his mother’s voice. He frowned, debating if he should walk in there and rescue his mother from whatever Charles was demanding. As much as he respected and loved Jason’s father, he knew Charles could be a slayer when necessary.
“Soon. Promise me that.” Charles persisted.
Silence.
“Marjorie.”
“I don’t know.”
“There is no reason to lie anymore. Forrest needs to know. If you don’t tell him, I will.”
“You can’t do that.” His mother’s voice rose with a determination he didn’t know she possessed.
Okay, so he was the reason for this conversation. Forrest grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open. “Tell me what?”
Chapter Nine
“The human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed.”
Charlotte Brontë
His mother flinched and quickly met Forrest’s gaze before looking away. In the split second that they made eye contact, a pained expression crossed her face. She looked over at Charles, his crystal blue eyes glued to her. The air was thick with tension. No one moved. No one spoke. A sacred, deathlike silence fell upon the room.
“Tell me what?” he repeated. The question lingered in the silence. He glanced at his mother, then Charles then back at his mother.
Charles walked over to Jason’s weathered black desk and picked up a silver framed picture. Forrest’s gaze followed the older man as he studied the photograph for a bit before placing it back then walked over to the window and buried his hands in his pockets. His strong, prominent jaw tight, his broad shoulders stiff.
As Jason’s friend, Forrest knew the frame contained one of the last pictures Jason took with his parents before Victoria passed away. Jason’s mother, while in a frail mental state, had discovered her husband’s infidelity. That had been the icing on the cake and drove her over the edge.
Forrest swallowed the bitter taste of the memory, closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. “What is so urgent that I need to know?”
His mother tugged on her brown hair and walked across the room to where Forrest stood. He watched her moving with extreme uneasiness, as if she was defenseless and powerless to deal with a danger
that seemed vague but imminent.
“Forrest.” She took his hand in hers. “Your father just died. Whatever it is can wait.” She glanced at Charles. “Right, Charles?”
Dead, cold silence filled the room.
His mother sighed at Charles’ lack of cooperation. Her eyes drooped down and appeared to have no focus, staring at nothing specific. “I’m sorry,” she said in a flat voice. “I’m so sorry, Forrest.”
His gut clenched, but Forrest shook it off. Unable to watch his mother in so much distress, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She turned and buried her face in his chest. “I think that’s enough for today, Charles,” he said over his mother’s shoulder.
“I made a…m-mistake.” His mother choked on the words.
Forrest glanced down, her head still buried in his chest. He looked over at Charles, the other man’s expression grim. “Mom.” He stroked her arm, silently urging her to stop. The last few days had been tough on her. Whatever her mistake was, it could wait.
But she straightened herself and stepped out of his grip. She swiped her cheeks with the back of her hands and sucked in a breath. “Over thirty years ago, from a momentary lapse, I made a mistake.” She smiled and touched his face. “It was the best mistake I’ve ever made.”
His mind went blank. Forrest shook his head in confusion. “I’m not following.” But inside, the beat of his heart hammered erratically.
“And Charles is right. He deserves to be a part of his son’s life.”
Time slowed. His gaze darted between the two conspirators. Like an unsteady Jenga tower with someone tugging at a crucial brick, Forrest could feel his foundation crumbling. “Am I hearing this right?”
