Page 42 of Desperate Victory
Grandfather stared at the plot they’d arranged. Rather than a coffin, we were interring an urn. She’d been cremated. Her wishes apparently. It made the graveside service easier, I supposed. Though we hadn’t opened the invites up, Margareta Waldemar had arrived just moments before the minister began speaking.
She stood on the opposite side from the rest of us. Dressed in formal black with a wide-brimmed hat and dark sunglasses, she seemed almost chic while also being utterly unreadable.
We were all dressed in unrelieved black. Somehow, Grandfather and the guys coordinated right down to the black dress shirts, black handkerchiefs, and black suits. My dress was a little more understated, though the cold wind against my legs left me chilled.
The dark coat I wore helped. I’d also chosen black, knee-high boots, both for warmth and practicality. It was still winter and the weather hadn’t been particularly kind to anyone.
“While Melissa’s beloved mother could not be here with her father or her daughter, we know that like Melissa, she is with us in spirit.”
Wistfulness curved through me. I missed my grandmother so much. I missed her sly wit, and her easy smile. I missed the joy she brought out in Grandfather. I just missed her.
“Melissa was blessed with two daughters, beautiful souls in their own rights. It is to them that the family will look. To them that will uphold the future. They are the legacy…”
Grandfather’s jaw tightened, albeit briefly. I was the one who insisted on Andrea’s mention. While his reluctance had been plain, he didn’t fight me on it. His only question was would she be coming to the funeral.
I couldn’t tell him what Harper had done. Not… not yet. Maybe not ever. Lying to him was not something I enjoyed, nor preferred. The words literally died on my tongue before I could give voice to them.
It was Milo who stepped in and said, “We discussed it and she wasn’t ready for anything public, particularly after her father’s death as well. It’s better she stays out of sight until everything calms down.”
Grandfather accepted the explanation easily. Almost too easily. Maybe I was being unfair. He and Andrea just didn’t know each other. He’d been coming around to making an attempt and now she was missing, his daughter was dead and his nemesis also deceased.
It was a lot to take in.
I understood, maybe more than he realized. My soul ached for Andrea. Every single day that passed while we were here and she was—out there—I died a little more on the inside. Every moment was another opportunity for her to be hurt or worse.
We weren’t doing nothing even if it felt like we weren’t moving fast at all. We had people looking for us on the ground in four different Eastern European countries. Fletcher was hacking into CCTVs, and searching for any sign of her.
Em had been reaching out to event coordinators and venues all over Europe. She was booking dates that would give us cover just in case. Maybe it was anathema to others, but someone might understand that Adam and I would gut everyone in our path to get Andrea back.
Yet, here we stood, on a cold, gray, dismal morning as they placed Mother’s ashes into the opening in the land they’d made.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” the minister droned on. I kept tuning him out. Probably not the most polite, but I wasn’t all that keen on the service in the first place. Eventually, he finished and offered to let Grandfather and I drop dirt into the plot before the cemetery keepers filled it back in for permanent interment.
Did I want to drop the dirt in? Not particularly, but Grandfather hesitated and I understood. That distance with my mother had cost him dearly. For all that he cut her off and hadn’t looked back, he wasn’t a heartless man. The cold facade was just that, it was a facade. He wore the disdain for her like armor to keep his disappointment at bay.
Straightening, I moved away from Milo and crossed to where Grandfather stood. I took a scoop of the dirt into a gloved hand and then glanced down at the urn inside the hole. It was such a small, ignominious end for a woman who had once burned so bright.
“Goodbye, Mother,” I murmured and let the dirt fall from my fingers.
Grandfather echoed my farewell by taking a handful and letting it fall from his fingers, rather than throwing it in. “Goodbye, Melissa. May you find the peace in the next life you never found in this one.”
He took my gloved hand in his and we stood there as they filled in the grave spot. The minister murmured some platitude and Grandfather nodded, but said nothing to answer him. It wasn’t long before he withdrew, leaving only our small party and Margareta Waldemar present.
She said nothing as we waited for the hole to be filled in, only when it was finished did she step forward and place a single, blood-red rose on the grave stone. Not the grave itself, but the stone.
That finished, she turned her attention to Grandfather and me. “Mrs. Waldemar,” I said, keeping my tone polite and even. “Thank you for coming.”
“Even if you weren’t invited.” Grandfather’s tone turned gruff as he moved a couple of steps away from the grave and she followed. The guys moved too, forming a semi-circle. Mrs. Waldemar’s bodyguard was present, but several feet away next to another tree.
I could admonish my grandfather about manners, but I didn’t disagree with him. “This was a private service for family only.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Waldemar said, her tone conciliatory. “I truly do. Burying one’s child is… an experience no parent should ever have to face.”
The words brought me right back to her charge that King had killed her son. I hadn’t forgotten about any of that, but Andrea’s disappearance on top of everything else just took precedence.
“I lost Melissa a long time ago.” The dismissive note might fool others, but I recognized the distraction for what it was. Grandfather felt vulnerable, no one enjoyed that sensation. “This just put a period on the end of a somewhat bleaker chapter in my life.”
“I can see that,” Mrs. Waldemar said as she tucked her small handbag under arm before clasping her hands together. While I couldn’t see her eyes beneath the sunglasses, I felt the weight of her gaze. “I can’t imagine closing the book feels any better no matter how much acrimony existed.”