Hazel curled her arm aroundone of her father's and led him toward the grave. They all gravitated towardit—the fresh mound of soil that weighed their mother down like an anchor in thesea. Lucy, the first to move, laid flowers on the ground and whispered hergoodbyes. Theodore put a pack of Gloria's brand of cigarettes down, patting itgently into the soft earth and wishing her well in the next life.
Uncle Vernon shook off hisdaughter to take the flask from his jacket and pour out a mouthful. "Goodjob," he said stiffly. Mother had not been the only one with emotionalproblems in the family.
Hazel dropped a few smoothcrystals onto the grave and whispered a prayer.
Luis coughed, choking backtears. Theodore rolled his eyes but turned politely away so that his cousinwouldn't see. Luis crouched down, reaching out to touch the grave. "Wemiss you so much, Mother," he sniffled, voice raw and so full of emotionthat the rest of them took a step back, as though reminded how little theythemselves had felt and were burned by it. "You were the strength and thelight of this family. You were our compass at sea, always steering us right. Idon't know how we'll keep from being lost without you." He stifled a sob.
Theodore caught Benedict'sgaze and gestured with a finger gun to his head, blowing out his brains insilent, gruesome pantomime.
"We've always been soclose, but I know these last days by your side meant so much to you, and I wasso grateful to have them—to drop everything and come home to take care ofyou."
From the way Lucy and Hazelexchanged glances, they seemed to consider this a direct jab.
Benedict suspected it was moreof a boast than an intended insult. Luis had a cloying need to be thought wellof—though his efforts often inspired resentment rather than adoration.
"You were the best motherany of us could have asked for, and you loved us in your own way, always makingus stronger so that we could hold up the family name proudly and shepherd thelost spirits—"
"Jesus!"Theodore finally burst.
Lucy giggled, and Benedicttried his damnedest not to smile.
"You're going to make aghost out of her if you keep pissing her off like that!"
Luis was still on his handsand knees in the grave dirt, teeth gnashing and body twisting to glare over hisshoulder at his cousin. "What are you talking about?"
"You—"
"Enough," Elysiumshushed them both and nodded for Luis to finish.
After another five minutes ofglorifying their mother, he took out a small pair of scissors and cut a lock ofhis own hair. He placed it tenderly into the soil and then broke down intodramatic sobs.
Elysium walked over, grabbed Luisby the shoulders, and gently pulled the other man to his feet. He turned him,walking him back a few steps from the grave. They all waited quietly whileElysium patted Luis on the back a few times, head lowered to speak gently butfirmly. "Another minute and we'll go inside. Stand," he said.
Elysium straightened his vestwhen he stepped away. Luis managed to do as he was told, standing on his own.
Benedict caught his eldestbrother's gaze. The man nudged his head toward the grave, and Benedict took it asinstruction to get on with things.
He dug the coins from hispocket, took one step forward, and tossed them out onto the soil. They sankinto the soft ground. He had been thinking about what to say since he got onthe plane last night but still didn't have anything. He wouldn't have knownwhat to say if she had been alive—let alone dead. "Goodbye, Mother."
Luis hiccupped behind him.
Elysium patted his shoulder,assuring him it was enough even when it was so little. It was one of the giftsof being the youngest—no one expected much of him.
They all waited, breathless,when Elysium stood at the foot of her grave. He had never been given such agift as low expectations. He was their mother's protégé since birth—the heir toher imagined throne. For a moment, Benedict was actually impressed. He knew,without a doubt, that he would have crumbled under that sort of pressure, evenif he had been a gifted spiritualist like the rest of them. He would havebuckled, fought back, rebelled, or just gone mad. But not Elysium."Sleep well," he said, taking a piece of chalk from his pocket andholding it up as though she were perched on the headstone watching. "Thankyou." He tossed it down onto the pile of offerings.
For long minutes, they stoodin the silence. He wondered if the others were searching for signs of her bystretching out their otherworldly senses.
Before he could think, heglanced toward the spot where he had last seen Emmeline.
She was still there, at theedge of the graveyard just beside the start of the woods. But she wasn'twatching the funeral. She was on her knees, the tiny flower heads on longstalks swaying back and forth beside her shoulders. Her green eyes were focusedon the ground, arms stretched out as though she were running her hands alongit. He couldn't see clearly from here.
"She would have hatedthis," Lucy whispered, suddenly beside him.
Benedict looked away from hisghost and met his sister's gaze. Hazel and Uncle Vernon were making a slow walkback toward the house, Luis electing to stay behind and sit with Mother alittle longer. Theodore stifled his annoyance with a fresh cigarette pressedbetween his lips.
"Do you remember whenGrandmother died?" Lucy continued.
"No," Benedictanswered. Grandmother was but a picture on the wall to him.
"He was still ababy," Elysium reminded.
Lucy huffeda laugh as though he had been lucky not to remember it. "It was terrible.Mother kept rolling her eyes and scoffing until Uncle Vernon finally told herto knock it off. She tossed out the apple she'd been eating in offering."
Benedict jolted at that,blinking at Lucy before bursting into a laugh. "No!"
Elysium cringed but nodded asthey started for the house.
"Are we sure Theo isn'tone of her kids? Maybe she just didn't want to deal with another one and pawnedhim off on Uncle Vernon?" Benedict speculated, casting a glance backtoward the spot where Emmeline had been. She was gone.
"Oh,
