A friend? From where?
There was no time to speculate because Amelia moved next to her, sitting between her and Rachel. In the three days since Kelly’s death, Amelia had been largely absent, either out of the house making arrangements or closed off in her bedroom. Marin felt utterly useless. Rachel, at least, had found a way to be helpful, cooking for the past two days to host a gathering at the house after the service. Amelia liked the idea, said Kelly would have liked it too.
On the other side of Rachel, her mother. Fran had turned right back around from Cape Cod as soon as she heard the news and set up camp at Thomas and Bart’s house. Rachel complained about her, but Marin knew she was secretly thankful she was there. Marin didn’t know what she would do without her own mother at a time like this.
The minister took her place in the front of the church. Everyone settled into their seats. Marin turned around to see how many more people were trying to squeeze into the hot room and spotted her father standing in the back.
“Dad’s here,” she whispered. Blythe, surprised, turned around, following Marin’s gaze.
“I’m sure he’s concerned about you,” Blythe said.
The quiet murmuring in the room turned to silence.
“Today, we gather to honor the life of our beloved Kelly Hanauer,” the minister said. She had long gray hair, wore a flowing white robe, and spoke with a rich, warm voice. “While I am serving to lead you in prayer, please know that I grieve along with you. As we all know, Kelly was not a fan of organized religion. Of organized anything, frankly.” Nervous laughter. “So some might wonder how I came to know her well—which I am honored to say I did. To answer that question, I ask that you look around. Each one of these magnificent stained-glass windows, a constant joy and comfort for members of our congregation, was created and donated by Kelly. And as I reflected on what to say today in remembrance of Kelly, such a valuable member of the artistic and spiritual community here in Provincetown, I found myself returning to the notion of her life’s work: the mosaic. I know that Kelly’s beloved wife, Amelia, taught her the craft, a family tradition. If we think about the mosaic, the beauty of the mosaic, it is perhaps the art form that most reflects family. All the different bits and pieces, some that clearly fit together, others not so obviously, joining to create one beautiful, colorful whole. Some mosaics are stained glass, others tiles or stones or shells. There is no one way, no right way. Kelly understood this about life; she assembled all the pieces to create a life that worked for her, even when that meant leaving some things behind or being left by people who did not approve of her choices.”
Marin glanced at the end of the row, at Nadine, who stared straight ahead. She wondered what was going on in her mind. Sensing her gaze, Nadine turned to her and Marin quickly looked down at her hands. She traced her tattoo with her forefinger.
Now, and probably forever, the sight of the tattoo was achingly bittersweet.
Goddamn it, Kelly. It was taking a lot of effort for her not to be angry. How could Kelly do this to Amelia? To all of them? She could have had months left, maybe a year. Who knew? Any time at all would have been better than this. No one got a chance to say a proper good-bye.
“Kelly always did things her way. This was true in the end. It is why we are here today, sooner than we expected, sooner than any of us is prepared to deal with. But in honoring Kelly, we must make peace with the fact that her final choice was part of the big picture of who she was, of what made her so special to all of us. And so, in your grief, I ask that you remember the mosaic. A single piece of one, by itself, might not be a thing of beauty. By itself, it might not be anything we would choose. But when all of the pieces are seen as a whole, we find ourselves in awe. And we sit in gratitude for the gift.”
Amelia sobbed, and Marin held her tightly. Her arm brushed Rachel’s, who was also holding on to Amelia.
That’s when Marin realized Kelly hadn’t been selfish in taking her own life, in choosing the time and circumstance of her death. She’d done it to guarantee that when the end came, Amelia would be surrounded by family.
Her own tears came, a sob that started deep within her and shook her entire body. Huddled together with Amelia and Rachel, she looked up at the ceiling. Okay, Kelly. I get it.
There was a long moment outside of church where everyone emerged, slightly dazed, into the sunlight, and regrouped. Blythe saw Kip making his way toward her and felt a flash of irritation. How was she supposed to move on with her life and accept their divorce if he insisted on hanging around? It was especially irritating how good he looked in his suit. And leave it to Kip to travel with a suit at all times. You can take the lawyer out of the firm…
“How are you holding up?” he said.
“I’m fine.” She crossed her arms. “I’m surprised to see you still in town.”
“When all of this happened, I figured I’d see if there was anything I could do.”
“We’re fine, Kip. I know you’re trying to be supportive of Marin, but we’ve made it through a lot of emotional ups and downs all summer without you. And frankly, it’s making it difficult for me to move on when you’re here.”
“Just a few weeks ago you wanted me here.”
“That was when I thought maybe there was still a chance we’d work things out.” She paused. “But now, Kip, I’m sorry. It’s time for you to go.”
Chapter Forty-Six
It seemed the entire population of Provincetown and then some had shown up at the house to pay their respects to Kelly. The front yard was full of people. The first floor of the house was packed. The backyard was jammed from the door to the last inch of lawn, with the table and both benches covered with trays of food and bottles of wine. Marin recognized the man who owned Provincia. The ma?tre d’ from the Red Inn. The sales clerk from Marine Specialties. The owner of Café Heaven. And then there was the out-of-towner.
Her father looked so distinctly not of Provincetown in his dark suit and John Lobb shoes. It was oddly comforting.
They’d had dinner the evening Kelly died. He said he was just in town for the night, that he had some things for her mother. She assumed he meant papers to sign for the divorce, but when she pressed him on it, he deflected the questions. Now she was just thankful for whatever had brought him to be with them during a difficult time. It seemed meant to be, and she said as much to him as they sat in the crowded living room.
“I’m sure Mom really appreciates it too.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Rachel tapped her on the shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but Julian’s looking for you.”