Page 27 of Clashing Moon

When we could no longer see the end of the black car, Arabella agreed to go inside.

I remembered the broken furnace the minute I walked into the frigid house. Arabella seemed to be in some kind of trance,shrugging out of her jacket and putting on a pot of coffee. Without any idea of what to do in a situation like this, I sat at the table feeling helpless. By the time the pot had brewed, Mama and Pop arrived.Thank God. Mama would know what to do.

“That’s my parents,” I said. “They insisted on coming out.”

“It’s nice of them to come.” She spoke woodenly, still seeming as if she were not really connected to her body.

I went out to greet them as they were climbing out of Pop’s truck.

“How is she?” Mama asked.

“Not good. But she’s glad you’re here.” I led them into the kitchen, where Arabella sat at the table with her head bent over a steaming cup of coffee. She looked smaller than she had yesterday.

Mama headed right to her, gently touching Arabella’s shoulder. She looked up, her face pale and eyes rimmed with a tired red.

“How are you holding up?” Mama asked softly, her voice thick with warmth and concern.

Arabella swallowed, managing a thin, shaky smile. “I think I’m still in shock.” She paused, looking down again. “He was out there all alone. I should never have let that happen.”

“We were in the basement,” I said. “The furnace wasn’t working.”

“And when we came up, he was gone,” Arabella said. “He died by himself. Probably scared and feeling betrayed. He always said I was selfish. I guess he died thinking so.”

Mama pulled out the chair beside her and took her hand. “Whatever he said or didn’t say, you must not think that way about yourself. You gave up so much to come home and take care of him.”

Pop moved to the table and took the chair across from Mama. “This isn’t your fault.”

Arabella looked up, her expression a mixture of relief and sorrow. “There were too many times over the last few months that I was so angry and hurt…I thought terrible things. Maybe I made this happen.”

“Nonsense,” Mama said. “Listen to me. I know a little about men who treat the women in their lives like dirt. I was married to one. My first husband was a mean, vindictive man who let his bitterness about his life dictate his every action, and my father wasn’t much better. I know he was your father, but that doesn’t mean you have to love him unconditionally. You love him with what you have and let go of the rest. I can tell you this—I had to work through a lot of feelings I had about my own father after he passed. It’s not easy to admit that the person who raised you hurt you more than loved you. However, the truth is the truth.”

“But it doesn’t mean you don’t wish things had been different,” Pop said.

Arabella’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Strangely enough, I kept hoping he’d tell me how proud he was of me. Or something kind. Just one thing. But it never came. I don’t have one nice story to share at his funeral. How tragic is that?”

“He was all locked up inside,” Mama said. “For whatever reason, he couldn’t let himself show emotion or love.”

“Some men simply cannot say what they feel,” Pop said. “Especially men of his generation.”

“Yes, my husband’s the exception,” Mama said, smiling over at Pop.

“I know it isn’t the same, but we’re awfully proud of you,” Pop said. “Both you and Rafferty. The two of you have given so much to our community already. You hold on to that. To what you know is true. You’re an outstanding person who we’re proud to know.”

Arabella dipped her head. “You’re too kind. Thank you.”

Mama stroked her hair. “What can we do?”

“I have to get him buried. I’ve no idea what he wanted other than to be buried in our family plot.”

“Something simple, then?” Mama asked. “You don’t have to have a traditional funeral. We can do a graveside service with just a few people there. Or no one but you and the preacher, if that’s what you want.”

“Burials are for the bereaved,” Pop said. “Which means you can have whatever you want.”

“We’ll help you make all the arrangements,” Mama said. “When my husband died, my friend Iris took care of everything. I was too shattered to do much of anything.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Arabella said. “I can’t stay here. Not tonight.”

“For one thing, the furnace is broken,” I said.

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