But at least everyone was safe now.
She watched her father’s eyelids twitch, as though he were dreaming. Had he loved Star? She was certain he had no idea what his girlfriend had been planning all these years.
He opened his eyes, as though startled by something.
“I’m here, Daddy.”
“Yes, Princess,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He looked so helpless connected to machines, a turban bandage on his head. His blue eyes, completely rimmed in red, were defeated-looking.
“You know, Daddy, we’ve all been so relieved to get Ethan back that no one’s thought about how Star’s death affects you.”
He winced as though in pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Would you rather not talk about it?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Did you love her?”
He seemed to be battling with something.
“It’s hard to turn love on and off,” she said.
“Even when you realize the one you love is a murderer?” His eyes seemed to be pleading with her. But why? Because he wanted to be forgiven for still loving a monster?
She took his hand, avoiding the tubes in his arm and heart-monitoring contraption on his finger. “It’s all right if you love her,” she said.
He squeezed his eyes closed. “Not her,” he whispered. “Me. Would you still love me, Princess?”
“I love you no matter what, Daddy.”
He kept his eyes closed, but tears leaked out and ran down his face.
She dried them with her fingertips, then kissed his bruised forehead. “I’ll let you rest.”
She took the bloodied washcloth with her and rinsed it out in the bathroom sink. But the metallic smell stayed with her.
CHAPTER 56
The memorial service for Jonathan Woodward was held on Sunday, five days after his death, at a small bay-front park not far from where Aubrey had grown up. Her mother had made the arrangements quietly, without informing the news media, and kept it to a small group of family and friends.
Aubrey held her mother’s elbow, careful not to touch her bandaged hands, as they walked from the wooded area across the grass to three rows of white folding chairs that faced the bay. Many of the seats were already occupied by people Aubrey didn’t recognize, probably colleagues of Jonathan’s.
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Really.”
But Aubrey didn’t release her grip on her mother’s arm. Mama might insist she was no longer having dizzy spells, and that the ringing in her ears was mostly gone, but Aubrey worried the emotional impact of today’s service might set her back.
She helped her mother into a chair in the front row next to a judge, a colleague and friend of Jonathan’s who had agreed to officiate. She thanked the judge for coming, then nodded at Kevin and the Simmers, who had taken seats in the third row. Kevin had driven down from Palm Beach with Prudence and Ernest. Kim had stayed behind with Ethan at the Simmers’ house, not willing to entrust him to a babysitter’s care. Aubrey certainly understood Kim’s feelings.
The judge got up to speak about Jonathan. He had a low, soft voice that blended with the breeze coming off the bay. It was late afternoon, and the air was beginning to cool, like the night Aubrey had come here with her mother.
That was Monday. Six days ago. A lifetime ago.
Aubrey watched a sailboat tacking across the gray-blue water, coming toward shore.
A week ago, Ethan had been kidnapped. Since then, she had experienced more pain and fear than she’d had over her entire life. She’d been in an emotional vortex, anxious about Ethan, at times doubting her parents, and finally, terrified for all of their lives. Jonathan had been killed, Dad had almost died, and the trauma of almost losing her mother and Ethan in the time-share explosion haunted her daily. During the last couple of days, she would find herself suddenly shaking uncontrollably in the middle of some mundane task, her brain’s way of reminding her it was far from healed.
The judge had sat down, and others got up to speak. A law clerk, who talked about how Jonathan had helped him through a tough personal time and gave him a fresh start. Other judges and lawyers, who spoke about Jonathan’s inherent goodness and devotion to the law. Jonathan was not afraid of making tough decisions if they were the right decisions, someone said, even the ones that pained him personally.
Aubrey sensed her mother shift in her seat. “Are you okay?” Aubrey asked softly.
Her mother nodded. “I need to speak.”
Aubrey helped her up, but her mother pulled out of her grasp and went to the podium alone. In her loose black dress, white bandaged hands in front of her, dark hair blowing in the breeze, Mama reminded Aubrey of a frail nun.
Mama looked over the heads of the assembled mourners, back at the trees, or perhaps at something only she was able to see. “Jonathan was one of the kindest, most loving people I’ve ever known. His death is a loss to humanity and utter heartbreak for me.” She put one bandaged hand to her neck. “But there comes a time when we must say good-bye to our loves and to our dreams. A time when we must say good-bye to the past.”
Her mother was finally leaving her demons behind, but she had lost a great deal in the process, including the man she had loved.
Life, Aubrey was learning, was filled with painful choices, and love didn’t always prevail. She hoped her mother would at least find peace now.
No one spoke after Mama sat down. The judge thanked everyone on Mama’s behalf for coming, then the mourners gathered around her.
Aubrey took a few steps back and waited under the shade of a big old banyan tree, ready to jump in and catch her mother if she appeared faint. She watched as people offered their condolences, awkward in their embraces because of her bandaged hands. Through it all, Mama nodded, her eyes unfocused, as though she were somewhere else.