Truly Madly Yours

roses on Henry’s casket. The bright June sun shot sparks off the polished mahogany and shiny brass hardware. She reached inside the pocket of the mint green suit she’d borrowed from her mother and found her sunglasses. Sliding the tortoiseshell frame onto her face, she hid from the sun’s stabbing rays and the curious glances of the people around her. She straightened her shoulders and took several long deep breaths. She hadn’t been home for ten years. She’d always meant to come back and make her peace with Henry. Now it was too late.

A light breeze tossed red and gold streaked curls about her face, and she pushed her chin-length hair behind her ears. She should have tried. She shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. She shouldn’t have allowed so many years to pass, but she’d never thought he’d die. Not Henry. The last time she’d seen him, they’d said some horrible things to each other. His anger had been so fierce, she could still remember it clearly.

A sound like the wrath of God rolled in the distance, and Delaney raised her gaze to the heavens, half expecting to see thunder and lightning bolts, certain the arrival of a man like Henry had created turbulence in paradise. The sky remained a clear blue, but the rumbling continued, drawing her attention to the iron gates of the cemetery.

Straddling gleaming black lacquer and shimmering chrome, windblown hair tousled about broad shoulders, a lone biker bore down on the crowd gathered to bid their farewells. The monster engine vibrated the ground and shook the air, the act of committal suffocated by a set of bad-dog pipes. Dressed in faded jeans and a soft white T-shirt, the biker slowed and brought the Harley to a rumbling stop in front of the gray hearse. The engine died, and his boot heel scraped the asphalt as he laid the bike on its kickstand. Then in one smooth motion, he rose. Several days’ growth of beard darkened a strong jaw and cheeks, drawing attention to a firm mouth. A small gold hoop pierced his earlobe while a pair of platinum Oakley’s concealed his eyes.

There was something vaguely familiar about the bad-ass biker. Something about his smooth olive skin and black hair, but Delaney couldn’t place him.

“Oh, my God,” her mother gasped beside her. “I can’t believe he dared to show up dressed like that.”

Her incredulity was shared by other mourners who had the bad manners to break into loud whispers.

“He’s trouble.”

“Always has been bad to the bone.”

Levi’s caressed his firm thighs, cupped his crotch, and covered his long legs in soft denim. The warm breeze flattened his shirt against his broad muscular chest. Delaney lifted her gaze to his face again. Slowly he removed the sunglasses from the bridge of his straight nose and shoved them into the front pocket of his T-shirt. His light gray eyes stared directly back at her.

Delaney’s heart stopped and her bones fused. She recognized those eyes burning a hole in her. They were the exact copy of his Irish father’s but much more startling because they were set in a face typical of his Basque heritage.

Nick Allegrezza, the source of her girlhood fascinations and the origin of her disillusions. Nick, the slick-talking, smooth-tongued snake. He stood with his weight on one foot as if he didn’t notice the stir he’d caused. More than likely he did notice and simply didn’t care. Delaney had been gone ten years, but some things obviously hadn’t changed. Nick had filled out and his features had matured, but his presence still attracted attention.

Reverend Tippet bowed his head. “Let us pray for Henry Shaw,” he began. Delaney tucked her chin and closed her eyes. Even as a child, Nick had attracted more than his share of attention. His older brother Louie had been wild too, but Louie had never been as wild as Nick. Everyone knew the Allegrezza brothers were crazy, impulsive Bascos, quick-fingered and as horny as parolees.

Every girl in town had been warned to stay far away from the brothers, but like lemmings to the sea, many had succumbed to the call of the wild and thrown themselves at “those Basque boys.” Nick had earned the added reputation for charming virgins out of their undies. But he hadn’t charmed Delaney. Contrary to popular belief, she hadn’t knocked boots with Nick Allegrezza. He hadn’t taken her virginity.

Not technically anyway.

“Amen,” the mourners recited as one.

“Yeah. Amen,” Delaney uttered, feeling a bit guilty for her irreverent thoughts during a prayer to God. She glanced over the top of her sunglasses, and her eyes narrowed. She watched Nick’s lips move as he made a quick sign of the cross. He was Catholic of course, like the other Basque families in the area. Still, it seemed sacrilegious to see such an overtly sexual, long-haired, earring-wearing biker cross himself as if he were a priest. Then as if he had all day, he lifted his gaze up the front of Delaney’s suit to her face. For an instant, something flickered in his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, and his attention was drawn to a blond woman in a pink slip dress by his side. She raised on her toes and whispered something into his ear.

Mourners crowded around Delaney and her mother, stopping to give their condolences before moving toward their cars. She lost sight of Nick and turned to people passing in front of her. She recognized most of Henry’s friends, who paused to speak to her, but saw very few faces under the age of fifty. She smiled and nodded and shook hands, hating every minute of their close scrutiny. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be by herself so she could think about Henry and the good times. She wanted to remember Henry before they’d disappointed each other so terribly. But she knew she wouldn’t get the opportunity until much later. She was emotionally exhausted, and by the time she and her mother made their way to the limousine that would take them back home, she wanted nothing more than to hibernate.

The rumble of Nick’s Harley drew her attention and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He revved the engine twice then flipped a U and gunned the big bike. Delaney’s brows lowered as she watch him shoot past, her eyes focused on the blond pressed against his back like a human suction cup. He’d picked up a woman at Henry’s funeral, picked her up as if he were out trolling bars. Delaney didn’t recognize her, but she wasn’t really surprised to see a woman leaving the funeral with Nick. Nothing was sacred to him. Nothing off limits.

She climbed into the limousine and sank into plush velvet seats. Henry was dead, but nothing had changed.

“That was a real nice service, don’t you think?”

Gwen asked, interrupting Delaney’s thoughts as the car pulled away from the gravesite and headed toward Highway 55.

Delaney kept her gaze on the blue flashes of Lake Mary barely visible through dense pine forest. “Yes,” she answered, then turned her attention to her mother. “It was real nice.”

“Henry loved you. He just didn’t know how to compromise.”

They’d had this same discussion many times, and Delaney didn’t feel like talking about it. The conversation always began and ended the same, yet nothing ever got resolved. “How many people do you think will show up?” she asked, referring to the after-funeral buffet.

“Most everyone, I imagine.” Gwen reached across the distance that separated them and pushed the sides of Delaney’s hair behind her ears.

Delaney half expected her mother to wet her fingers and make spit curls on her forehead as she’d done when Delaney had been a child. She’d hated it then, and she hated it now. The constant fixing, as if she wasn’t good enough the way she was. The constant fussing, as if she could be made into something she wasn’t.

No. Nothing had changed.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Laney.”

Delaney felt suffocated and pressed the electric window switch. She breathed in the fresh mountain air and let it out slowly. Two days, she told herself. She could go home in two days.

Last week, she’d received notification that she was named in Henry’s will. After the way they’d parted, she couldn’t imagine why he’d included her. She wondered if he’d included Nick, too, or if he would ignore his son, even after his death.

Briefly she wondered if Henry had left her money or property. More than likely it was some kind of a gag gift, like an old rusted fishing boat or a stuffed mackinaw. Whatever it was didn’t matter, she was leaving directly after the will was read. Now all she had to do was gather the courage to tell her mother. Maybe she’d call her from a pay phone somewhere around Salt Lake City. Until then, she planned to look up some of her old girlfriends, hit a few local bars, and wait it out until she could head home to the big city where she could breathe. She knew if she stayed more than a few days, she’d lose her mind-or worse, herself.

“Well, look who’s back.”