Prologue
Black wasn't exactly our color. Shoulder to shoulder, my only real friends stood silently, watching the casket sink into the ground. They'd traveled from all over the world for this. Paris, Toronto, Denver, New York, Los Angeles, and more. Unlike the rest of the mourners, our little group dared to bring color. Crimson, Teal, Magenta, Cyan, Chartreuse, and more - they were all represented proudly. It was what Gran would have wanted, and we owed her nothing less.
It also made the country bumpkins around us feel uncomfortable. Arranged like a rainbow, our attire raised awkward questions these people would rather not ask, and rightly so. Gran had never hidden that she was a lesbian. She also hadn't flaunted it. That I was having her buried beside her former girlfriend had the small Texas town in a tizzy. That her "family" all wore neon accents and held brilliantly-dyed carnations would cause an even bigger fervor.
I knew how to make a statement, and I intended for this to be a big one. Through all the prayers, I just stared at the soft grey coffin. Through the pretty words and sniveling neighbors, I refused to weep. If I didn't need to be seen, I wouldn't be here. The last thing I intended was to show any grief around these people. I just wanted to remember my grandmother as she'd been in life, not cold and unmoving. I wanted to remember the charming old woman who'd refused to ever grow up, the woman who'd proudly shown dozens of kids a better life. The mentor who'd been willing to share everything with her granddaughter when no one else had. The woman who'd brought color into a dark world.
Then it was time. One by one, the others made their way closer to drop a flower or a word into the ground above the coffin. I couldn't move. This was it.Thismade it real. This was supposed to be closure, but it felt like a knife right through the middle of my heart as white roses and stiff lilies began to pile up. When there was no one else, a stout man wearing turquoise accents stepped forward and released his cyan flower, making sure the color wasn't hidden under the pile of white. It was fitting.
My eyes watched as others did the same and the rainbow piled up. The Shades of Trouble, Gran had called us. Each one had a story behind it. Dark, miserable stories that had only turned bright with Gran's help. While I watched, my eyes tried to blur, but I blinked the tears away. I owed that much to my grandmother at the very least. Strong women didn't cry.
"Violet," a deep voice whispered into my ear. "Say your goodbyes, sweetie."
Blinking, I managed to break my eyes free and turn them on him. He didn't belong here. Ashton's suit was tailored to his athletic frame. His hair was trendy. Even his nails were manicured. With the magenta vest, tie, and pocket square, he made one hell of a statement, and the hand on my back said I was the reason why. Letting out a sigh, I let my head collapse to his shoulder.
"I can't believe she's gone."
"I know." He brushed an imaginary strand of hair away from my face. "We all loved her. That's why we came, because she saved so many of us. She was like the mother most of us wish we had."
"And now she's gone." I flicked my eyes toward the sky, hoping they wouldn't give in now.
But Ashton just tapped my chest. "She'll always be right there." Then his own. "And here. It's all we get, sweetie. A few decades on this earth, then it's someone else's turn. Right now, it's yours. C'mon, let's tell Gran goodbye, then I'll take you back to the hotel."
My teeth found my lower lip. "Gonna stay?"
"Yeah. All night if you need it. Won't even complain about smudged mascara for at least two days."
His teasing broke through my sadness enough that I smacked him lightly. "Waterproof, bud. I came prepared for a funeral."
He dodged, but only to slide his hand to my lower back and guide me forward. All the rest had made their peace and moved to the side. We were the last. Even the pastor was packing up his things.
Ashton lifted his magenta flower. "Thanks for everything, Gran. You were always there when I needed you, and all you ever wanted was for me to pay it forward. I always wished you'd been my mother and I'm going to miss you. Wind to thy wings, ya old bat."
My eyes were starting to sting, but I blinked them clear again while Ashton tossed in his flower. All that was left was me, then she'd be gone forever. Taking a deep breath, I clutched my tiny bouquet of violets.
"Thanks, Gran. For everything. I'm gonna miss you so much. I promise I'll always be your little Violet. I'm not gonna let anyone tear me down, but I'll keep doing the right thing, just like you always said. I'm gonna make our dreams come true. Bye, Gran. Maybe I'll see you on the other side." Then I tossed the flowers.
Four little violets tied with a lavender ribbon landed atop the pile of neon carnations. The image was seared in my mind. Like a scream of defiance, the array of colors was a silent declaration of allegiance. It meant so much more than anyone knew. This was our eternal pledge. Those bright flowers were a public acknowledgement of who Gran had really been, and it meant so much more than a simple gay pride display. It meant she'd turned colors into something that could bind together a flock of wayward kids and make us all into something better.
"I hope heaven has rainbows," I whispered. "You deserve nothing less."
"Yeah," Ashton agreed, steering me away. "C'mon, babe. Let's go home."
Home was another hotel in another city - for now. I had two months left on my latest tour, but I’d be back. When I was done, I’d return to the house where I’d grown up. It wouldn't be the same. Southwind had been empty for almost two years while Gran battled cancer. Right now, it was nothing more than an empty reminder of my childhood, but we'd made plans. Gran's will made it clear that the house was mine, and she'd asked me to make it a haven for those who'd lost their way.
She'd basically cut everyone else out of her life except me and those kids she'd turned into success stories. But when the cancer had gotten bad, Gran hadn't wanted to bother us. She'd been convinced that her pseudo-family wouldn't be able to take the pain. The reality was that Gran hadn't wanted us to see her lose. Cancer was the only thing that had ever been stronger than that woman.
Considering what we'd managed to overcome while she was alive, that was saying a lot. The two of us were the black sheep of the family, so we'd made our own. Back then, it had been me and Gran against the world. Then the rest had wormed their way in, proving that family wasn't born, it was made. Now, the plan was to make sure I paid it forward. That was all Gran had ever asked of us. For me, that meant following in my grandmother's footsteps.
"Thank you, guys," I told my friends.
A Black man with a crimson-red tie stepped closer, resting his palm on my shoulder. "This is the only family most of us know, Violet. I had to come."
The others nodded in agreement. A few eyes were damp.
"But," Crimson continued, dropping his voice, "we still have each other. So long as we keep that, we'll be fine. Call me if you needanything,hun."
"Yeah," the woman with chartreuse trim on her black dress agreed. "Anything, Vi."
