Chapter Nine
At a quarter past two in the morning, Kensington stood from the side of her father’s bed, where she’d been kneeling as the priest finished administering last rites. A prayer ran through her mind on a constant loop. Within the disjointed thoughts were hopes for herself and her sisters and her niece, wishes for her father’s peaceful entrance through the pearly gates, and a need for reassurance that God was with them in this time of upheaval.
Dr. Lee pronounced the time of death as 2:16 a.m. Kenzi scuttled back. She couldn’t stand to be in the room with the corpse. Dad was with the angels now, and since he didn’t see his way to linger any longer, she didn’t see the need for it either. Her sisters huddled together, watching every move the doctor made as he positioned the body—now relaxed instead of contracted in pain—as if they were holding on to one more moment with the man who had raised them.
Dad was gone. The sooner they realized this, the better it would be for all of them. Her lack of feeling would have alarmed her if her head wasn’t wrapped in a thick fog of disbelief. No matter how many hours they’d spent in counseling preparing for this exact moment, there was no way to anticipate the sense of loss when her father’s spirit had been freed from his damaged and limiting body.
She’d sensed him rush through her, like a ghost, but more than that. He had become light particles too bright for her to see but burning warm enough to feel in every part of her soul. And then he was gone. Just like that. Like God snapped his fingers and closed the small gate that allowed Kenzi to know that though Dad’s body was lying in a bed, growing cold and returning to dust, Dad was flying with the angels and Mama.
There had to be some comfort in that knowledge.
She stopped to wrap her arms around both her sisters. The oldest of the three, she felt a responsibility to be an example as well as a strength, even as her heart was heavy with loss. Their tears dried and their shoulders stopped shaking.
“I’m going to stay for a bit,” said Lunette. “I just, I just need a few more minutes.”
“Take all the time you need.” Kenzi squeezed her hand. Dr. Lee said he’d wait until the family was ready. “Are you staying too?” she asked Raquel.
Her sister nodded, her lips pulled down and her eyes tight. “But you should go. I know you don’t like this.”
They all hugged once more. “We’re orphans now—isn’t that strange? I’m twenty-five and I feel like an orphan.” Lunette covered her face and drew in a loud, labored breath.
The responsibility to keep the family together fell on Kenzi’s shoulders. Truthfully, she’d taken up the role when her mother died, coordinating with the cook to ensure Lunette’s meals were dairy free because of her food sensitivity and printing calendars for the driver so Raquel could get to gymnastics meets. The need to say something forced out the first thought that popped in her head. “We have each other. We’re sisters, and that’s a bond that can’t be broken.”
Raquel stepped back to look Kenzi square in the face. “Not even when we get married?”
Kenzi jerked at the vulnerable note in Raquel’s words. “Marriage doesn’t change the fact that we’re sisters.”
“I hope not,” whispered Lunette.
Kenzi gave them one last squeeze and then removed herself from the room. She’d done well avoiding looking at the bed, keeping her back to Dr. Lee and his final administrations. She should be stronger, braver, for her sisters’ sake, but she couldn’t stay. She needed some time alone to process all that had transpired, and to cry. Crying in front of people was never a good idea—she wasn’t a pretty crier.
She exited the room, her gaze on the stairs that would take her to her suite. Movement caught her eye, and she glanced at the couch to see Nash hurrying to sit up. He must have fallen asleep.
“You’re still here?” While she hadn’t forgotten she’d been married, she had forgotten that she’d left him on the couch. Had he been there all day and all night?
“For better or worse,” he quipped as he stretched. His long, sculpted arms rose above his head, and she allowed her gaze to slide down them to where his shirt pulled tight over his firm chest and tight stomach. How great would it be to cuddle up to that tonight and cry her eyes out? Her cheeks warmed and she looked quickly away.
“I can promise you that the next week will bring out the worst in all of us.” She motioned for him to follow her down the stairs. Her suite was on the east of the informal kitchen and dining areas. He would stay in the bedroom next to hers for the duration of their marriage.
He got to his feet, gathering his suit coat that hung over the edge of the chair, and laid it over his forearm. “Funerals and weddings do that to people.”
She used the handrail, needing something solid to hold on to. “Why did you lump those two together?”
He moved easily alongside her—as if staying up until 2:30 in the morning was easy. Kenzi could only imagine the bags under her eyes and the flatness to her skin. Her wedding dress was wrinkled and well worn. Her shoes were long gone.
“Several reasons, but mainly because weddings and funerals are life-changing events.” He paused a moment before falling into step with her again. “Let me amend that. They are relationship-changing events.”
The thought was an interesting one. Relationship changers. Like her relationship with her sisters had changed when she became engaged—it had pushed them all apart. She needed more time to process how Dad’s passing would or could change their relationships even more before she answered. Kenzi pointed out the kitchen as they passed. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a horrible host. Are you hungry?”
Nash shook his head. “The housekeeper brought me a sandwich and later a turkey dinner.”
“I’m sure I’m the world’s worst wife leaving you to fend for yourself right after the wedding. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had second thoughts.” She tried to joke, but her tone was flat with grief. Was it possible that she’d be able to pick up her usual lightness once again? Because it felt like she’d set it down next to her father’s sickbed and he’d taken it with him when he passed to the other side.
Nash’s hesitation to answer did nothing to improve her opinion of herself. Maybe Clyde had dodged a bullet when he’d broken off their engagement. Everyone told her it was his loss and that she deserved better, but after today’s performance, Clyde’s assessment of her ability to fulfill the role of wife appeared correct.
“There are extenuating circumstances,” Nash offered.
Yep. Loser bride.
