The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) (13 page)

Chapter Eight

Today, Aunt Catherine was being laid to rest. When Natalie arrived at Renewed Hope Baptist church, the place was already filled to capacity, and she had to park two blocks away even if some of the parking spaces in the church lot were labeled “family only.” People were either too saddened to read or too lazy to walk.

Natalie hadn’t been into Renewed Hope for at least ten years; she stopped going approximately around the time when she told her family to stuff it, and she felt sad when she looked around and saw not a single thing that brought back good memories.

The two front pews on either side were wrapped with a sash indicating they also were reserved for family members, and to Natalie’s disappointment, they weren’t filled up like the parking spaces, so she had no excuse but sit near people she shared only a last name with. Aunt Catherine’s coffin was still in the adjacent room, but when she saw her parents and a myriad of other equally obnoxious acquaintances hang around there, she decided to remain in the chapel and keep her distance. She didn’t want to see Aunt Catherine that way, anyway; she preferred to hold on to the mental image of the sweet lady that had come to visit her at her place.

She tried to get close to her parents through the years, but any attempt she ever made had resulted in complete failure. Natalie was happy she never planned to be an army general – her poor strategies would have certainly lost them the war and caused her men to die an untimely death; or maybe, like her parents, they would have miserably deserted her.

She wished nobody would walk up to her and say anything, but her hopes evaporated when Ryan’s voice whispered its way into her ear. “Natalie, how are you?”

Natalie turned her head and took a good look at Ryan. He was quite handsome. With his light blond hair and deep blue eyes set in a tanned cherubic face, matched with a body that held its own at six feet two inches, he was the living image of the California surfer. Although Natalie doubted he had any roots in the west coast, Ryan lived close to water all his life, and the water sports he regularly indulged had molded his figure into a well crafted masterpiece of tight muscles. He had a tiny scar on his left cheek, and luscious thick lips that brought Brad Pitt to mind; he wore a formal black suit with a very subtle tie; the dark jacket set a nice contrast with the golden, sun-kissed tone of his hair. Not bad…maybe she should give him a chance, even if in her eyes he was already guilty by association with her parents.

“Hello Ryan, thank you for coming,” she stood up and shook his extended hand. She waited to see if he would try to hug her, but southern decorum had the best of him as well, so they sat together and waited for the service to begin.

When people started filing in, she braced for the moment when her parents would walk up and sit beside her, and was happy she wasn’t alone. Her parents would not appear rude by preaching their accusations in front of others, especially if those others were none other than a very suitable young man they could, by the grace of God, marry their only daughter off to. This would finally get her out of their hair; not to mention the social perks of being associated with one of the most prestigious names in the Wilmington area.

As expected, her parents were there within minutes; her mother, still a pleasant looking woman at the age of sixty-two, was dressed entirely in black, and wore a dainty hat over her blond hair which was skillfully styled into an intricate French twist. Of course her mother would include a hairstylist appointment as a part of funeral preparations. Angela’s petite figure gave her a delicate, vulnerable appearance, quite different than the large boned frame her sister Catherine had been forced to live into. Her face had few wrinkles – compliments of Botox, even if Angela would go to her death bed without admitting it to a soul – and her eyes, which always reminded Natalie of cat eyes, were a light shade of amber.

Her father was tall, slim, and still sporting a head full of dark hair; attired in black suit and tie, he looked extremely distinguished and handsome. His eyes – a shade of dark chocolate – rested on Natalie for a moment, before shifting back down to appear contrite.

Natalie wondered if her father looked at Aunt Catherine laying in her coffin and thought about their one-night-fling at Catherine’s house. The thought almost made her laugh out loud –
what a smack to her mother’s pride it would be! If it wasn’t because of Aunt Catherine’s wish to keep it secret, Natalie would have loved to tell her just to see her mother’s self-righteous face crumble into tears of embarrassment.

Ryan nodded in the Sanders’ direction, to ensure he was being seen at Natalie’s side. Although his family’s fortune was almost gone – and that was kept under very tight wrap indeed, the Wheelers were still a very prestigious family.

People finally stopped filing in, and before the last person sat, the music began to play. Botticelli’s amazing voice filled the room, and Natalie already felt a knot in her throat. She was a little surprised by her own reaction – after all she had wished Aunt Catherine under a truck until a few days ago – but she had wanted so badly to belong that she treasured the fleeting feeling of finally connecting to one of her family members.

Mister Hodges, the minister, began the service as soon as the music died down; his imposing, thunderous voice kept everyone in a spell. He spoke of Aunt Catherine’s loyalty to her family, and her selfless dedication to her aging, ailing parents, prior to their passing.

Before friends and family could walk up and speak, a bagpipe player stood up, and the sound of Amazing Grace swept everyone away on the wave of its notes. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the room – except Natalie’s mother’s, who pretended to dab at her eyes with a white kerchief that never got wet.

Ryan took Natalie’s hand, and when she turned to look at him, she saw that his eyes were burning holes in her. That momentary connection made her a little uneasy, but she felt an unexpected stirring in her lower stomach and quickly averted her eyes to avoid blushing.

Her father walked up to say a few words on behalf of the family.

“The sadness our family feels today cannot be expressed in words. Catherine was a wonderful woman, and everyone who knew her was blessed to have encountered such kindness. I remember the day we brought our daughter home for the first time…Catherine was so touched by her arrival that she went out and bought her clothes, stuffed animals and balloons. She left all her purchases in the nursery, and left before we got home. We later found out that she didn’t want to intrude in our happiness, and wanted to allow us the privacy of enjoying this very special moment alone.”

Sure she was, Dad…she was crushed by your decision, that’s why she stayed away.

“Catherine was selfless. It showed in the way she took care of her parents, day in and day out, without ever complaining. Other women might have resented giving up their lives to look after their aging parents, but not our Catherine – for her, for her kind soul, it was an honor, and she wore that badge of self-sacrifice with pride. My wife and I will never forget her; Catherine is, and will remain, alive in our hearts.”

Phillip Sanders stepped down, and took his place again beside his wife, although Natalie noticed that her mother was shifting uncomfortably. Could she really be grieving her sister’s death or was she unsettled by having lost the spotlight to a dead woman? Imagining her mother having any real feelings about another human was, in Natalie’s mind, synonymous to a snake feeling affection for the rats he was about to eat. No way – Natalie thought – it was all just a big act.

A few other people walked up and talked about their liaisons to Aunt Catherine, but nobody talked about the real woman behind the mask of the self-sacrificing maiden. It was time for Natalie to let the world know who Catherine
Bouvier
really was. She stood up and excused herself with Ryan, then went straight to the microphone. She glanced at her parents and saw that they were holding their breath – her mother looked as if she was going to have a stroke, but tried to hide it behind the façade of grief. Her discomfort gave Natalie the strength to speak.

“For many years I didn’t like my aunt Catherine. She was never mean to me, or directly did anything wrong, but I suppose we were just different people…or at least I thought so until a few days ago.”

She paused briefly, and scanned the crowd to see the general reaction of her audience – she had everyone’s undivided attention.

“My paintings were scheduled to be exhibited at Mrs. Wilson’s gallery in less than a month. I was thrilled beyond belief, and saw that as my opportunity to show the world my work, the passion, the fire I had inside. Sadly, a different fire destroyed everything – and as Mrs. Wilson’s gallery went up into smoke because of an electrical malfunction, so did my paintings. I was devastated. All my work, or most of it anyway, was in that gallery. I saw my chance of being validated as an artist blow away as the marine breeze carried away the smoke from the fire. Well, on Tuesday afternoon, the day before she fell ill, Aunt Catherine came to see me. I thought she was going to admonish me about my house being a mess, or maybe she was going to drill some of her many rules of etiquette into me…but she didn’t. When I snapped at her over
something totally ridiculous, she told me I shouldn’t give up just because some of my work was destroyed. She told me she had a friend in England who deals in art, and after hearing of the fire, she asked him about the possibility of bringing some of my paintings to him. I was flabbergasted! This wasn’t the aunt that I knew...After she passed, she left instructions for me with her housekeeper to go by and pick up a letter she had written to me the day before. Reading her words opened my eyes to the wonderful person she was, and before I could finish reading, her letter directed me to some paintings she worked on herself. Aunt Catherine was an artist as well, although I doubt anyone knew that about her. She never shared her talents, because she never wanted to steal anyone’s spotlight – that’s how strong and wonderful she was. I can stand in front of you right now, and candidly tell you that I miss Aunt Catherine, and wish I could have one more chance to spend time with her, and get to know her better. I know it isn’t possible, but I do know that her true essence lives in her paintings, and I will forever be thankful to her, and deeply honored, for having shared her secret passion with me. You are my true family, Aunt Catherine, even if we never shared the same blood…family is in the heart, and you are definitely in mine. I hope you rest in peace.”

Silence reigned in the room for several moments. Nobody knew this side of Catherine
Bouvier
, and everyone seemed shocked into a silent stupor. Ryan took her hand the moment she sat down, and Natalie didn’t fight him. She felt she needed some allies right now, and if Ryan wanted to step into the game, why shouldn’t she let him?

After Natalie’s speech, nobody else walked up to share their story, so the minister led the congregation into a few more prayers and the service was over after that. Her mother and father left the chapel and went quickly to the receiving room, to greet the attendees, while the pallbearers stepped in to carry the coffin outside to the waiting hearse. Natalie walked outside with Ryan, still holding hands, and she noticed that both her mother and father watched her closely. She knew that she was expected to stand by them and shake hands with those who had come to show their respects, but she needed some fresh air. She turned to look at Ryan, and was impressed by the way his blond hair glistened in the sunshine. With the church in the background he looked like an angel.

“Thank you so much for your support, Ryan. It really meant a lot to me, and I’m sure it would mean a lot to Aunt Catherine.”

“Yeah, she really was a nice lady, Natalie. I feel fortunate that I got to meet her.”

Formalities…empty words…Natalie hated them.

“Say, Ryan…you asked if we could go out sometimes. I would really like that.”

Ryan appeared as if he got suddenly hit by a sunray - he literally glowed. “Why, that would be great, Natalie. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day?”

“Sure. Remind me to give you my cell number before we part, today. I’m often out, and it is easier to reach me that way.”

“Thank you, Natalie. I will call you later tonight, and we will figure out when is the best time to meet. Are we going to the cemetery now?”

Natalie shook her head and smiled, but Ryan couldn’t detect the bitterness because of his lack of knowledge concerning her family’s internal affairs.

“No, Mom arranged to keep the burial private, and we are going directly to Aunt Catherine’s house for a reception.”

“Great. I will follow you then.”

Mostly everybody had already come outside, but her parents were still inside. Natalie realized that in her haste of getting out she had left her purse on the pew, so she walked back in to get it. She saw her mother standing by the pew, holding something, and she looked as if she was arguing with her husband. When Natalie got closer she saw that her mother had pulled Aunt Catherine’s letter out from her purse – Natalie put it in there to have Tom Hadley’s number handy, in case she needed to call him, but she never expected her mother would find it. Angela Sanders’ face was a mask of agony, as she suddenly realized that her sister didn’t always live in her shadow after all.

When her husband found her, Belinda Allen was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. Bright sunlight poured in from the large bedroom window and washed the walls a ghostly white.