The sound of organ music filtered out of the open door, and I glanced around nervously. I caught a few pairs of eyes but quickly turned my attention to the grass underfoot. Sad smiles, curious stares, hushed whispers. I didn’t like it at all. I didn’t fit in. I was a stranger, and it felt a great deal like them versus me.
“Skye, this is Father O’Donegal,” Robert said, dropping my arm. “He runs things here at St. Brigid’s.”
Turning my attention to the priest, I smiled politely. He was an older man with white hair, wrinkled skin, and watery eyes. His collar was done up tight, the little white bit at the front signaling his priestliness.
“It’s lovely to meet you, child,” he said taking my hand in both of his. “I’m sorry it has to be on such a sad occasion, but welcome to Derrydun. My door is always open.”
“Uh, thanks,” I muttered.
“Come. We’ve saved you a seat at the front right by your mother.”
I almost choked on my own spit as Father O’Donegal led me into the church, down the middle aisle, and directed me to sit front and center.
The fancy reddish brown coffin had been placed directly in front of the altar, and thankfully, it was closed tight. I suppose this was as close as Aileen and I were going to get on a physical scale.
“Goody,” I muttered, sliding my ass onto the hard wooden pew.
“It’s on this day, we’ve come together to farewell our beloved Aileen McKinney,” Father O’Donegal began, his voice droning at the one note. I bet this was his church voice. “She never came to church or followed the Catholic faith, but she was still a pillar of our community and requested we all gather here today to celebrate her time on this earth and wish her a fond farewell on the path to the next life.”
I slumped back against the pew and let my thoughts wander as he opened his Bible and began to read. The side door was open, letting in some fresh air and a ray of sunshine. I studied the light playing across the stone floor and noticed how it made the gold on the altar shine. I was never a church person. I’d never prayed, or gone to a service, or stepped inside one out of curiosity, so I didn’t know what any of it meant.
Glancing at the coffin, I suppressed a shudder. Aileen had died a month ago, and she was in there. What did she look like now? Not right now—that would be gross. What did she look like before she’d died? I only had pictures of her when she was young. Narrowing my eyes at the coffin, I shivered. The whole scene weirded me out.
I felt an unseen force burning into my back, and I covertly peered over my shoulder. A pair of dark eyes were staring right at me. Boone, aka the hot Irishman. When he noticed I’d caught him, he quickly turned his attention back to Father O’Donegal’s sleep-inducing sermon.
Settling back into the pew, I held onto the sigh that was trying to work its way out of my lungs. He’d caught me checking out his ass, and now he was staring at me in the presence of my estranged mother’s coffin. That wasn’t awkward at all.
Movement outside drew my attention, and I narrowed my eyes as a tabby cat wandered inside. Nobody moved except me. I glanced at Robert, but he was listening to Father O’Donegal’s sermon looking completely enraptured. The cat padded around the front of the coffin, disappeared for a moment, and then jumped up onto the altar.
I began to squirm, wondering why no one was shooing it away. The cat prowled across what I presumed was the sacred table of the Lord, sat at the far end, and began licking its front paw. I stared at it in subdued shock while Father O’Donegal continued reading from his bible like nothing was out of the ordinary. He didn’t even skip a beat, and none of the villagers in the church batted an eye.
When it was done with both front paws, it cocked a leg and started licking its balls. It’s big, tomcat balls.
I gasped, the sound echoing through the silent church. Everyone turned and stared at me, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. A cat was licking its balls center stage, and they were looking at me? Seriously?
Father O’Donegal snapped his Bible closed, and the cat leaped from the altar. Calling the pallbearers forward, the organ started playing again.
“There’s no eulogy or anything?” I whispered to Robert.
“Your mam wasn’t big on those kinds of things,” he replied. “I think her words were ‘Let the Father have his moment, and just drop me in the hole.’”
Scowling, I watched the six men she’d chosen come forward and pick up her coffin. The mysterious Boone was in front, and I couldn’t help my dirty look from becoming filthy. Who was he to Aileen? Why was he so special when I was nothing?
I hung back as the procession moved outside and lingered on the fringes as her coffin was lowered into the ground, shaking my head and smiling politely when people offered to stand aside so I could be nearer. The whole day had felt like I was going through the motions, almost as if I were completing something on a checklist of things to do. Witness mother’s funeral so I could claim my inheritance. Check. It wasn’t right, but there wasn’t anyone else.
When everyone started to disperse, chatting between one another, I backed away. I didn’t get far before Robert, my constant shadow, spied me lingering awkwardly on my own.
“Skye,” he said, forging a path through the crowd. “It was a nice service, don’t you think?”
“There was a tabby cat sitting on the altar the whole time,” I said with a scowl.
“Oh, that’s Father O’Donegal’s cat,” he said, waving his hand. “Pay him
