Page 18 of One Last Regret

“The name.Vie Apres a la Mort.Afterlife. That was the name of the song he played to win the f and the name of the song he was playing when he died.”

She looks back at the house. "And it's the song Gabriel played when Claude died." She looks at me and says, "Now you knowwhy Grandma got angry with us and why Dad was so scared. They both know about the curse, and even if they say they don't believe it, I know they do."

She shivered. “I hope they burn that music. I hope no one ever plays it again.”

Tears well in her eyes. I’m about to comfort her when she stands abruptly and runs toward the house. I call her name, but she ignores me.

I sit on the bench for a while, trying to make sense of what I've heard. I don't believe that the song actually cursed anyone.

But Josephinewasangry. And both she and Etienne were frightened. I must understand why. Perhaps then I’ll learn the true nature of this “curse.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

In my lifetime, I have been to three funerals. The first was for my grandmother when I was seven years old. I don’t remember much about that one other than that I was very sad. I remember my grandmother as a rosy-cheeked, smiling woman who always had a lollipop for me when we would visit, but I remember nothing else. That grief, I’m sure, was powerful in the moment, but it hasn’t lingered with me.

The second was for my father, and that was a different kind of grief. It was marked not by sadness so much as envy. He had been miserable for the past twelve years of his life, and while his death wasn’t at all timely, it meant he had escaped my mother, the source of his misery. Annie had disappeared by then, and that meant I was left alone to handle my mother. So, I envied him for his freedom even as I mourned his passing.

The third was for my mother. Grief was nowhere near my mind. I felt only anger. Anger that she had gone relatively peacefully. Anger that she had lingered as long as she had. Mostly, I felt anger that I had cared for her for years and eased her suffering when I believed then and still now that she was the source of all my suffering.

This fourth funeral is the first I've attended, where the deceased is surrounded only by people who mourn him truly. There are about one hundred fifty people in attendance, and there's not a dry eye in the place. Tears even well in my own eyes as I observe the dejection the children feel. Gabriel is no longer stoic but weeps bitterly as he clings to his father's sleeve. Amelia is nearly inconsolable, and she and Josephine hold each other like lifelines in a storm.

The auditorium is filled with musicians, producers and technicians, along with some other employees from MidnightMelody: doormen, servers and the like. It seems Claude was very well-liked. I overhear several of the employees remark glumly that they’ll never have a boss as cool as Mr. Durand.

Perhaps the greatest surprise to me is Audrey. I suppose I took her display of grief with a grain of salt, considering my first impression of her relationship with Claude, but looking at her now, there is no doubt in my mind that her grief is real. I consider myself to be very skilled at understanding human emotion, and I see no sign that she is exaggerating her feelings. She alternates between bouts of weeping and periods of vacant staring, exactly as I would expect from someone burying someone they love. And the slump of her shoulders, the bags under her eyes, the distracted manner of speaking when she does talk… There's no doubt about it. She is grieving.

That doesn't mean that she's innocent. Many murderers truly grieve their victims. Many killers feel remorse. Even serial killers recount instances when they regret their choices and feel true empathy for those whose lives they've affected.

I don’t suspect Audrey of murder, though.. I want to know more about this cursed piece and what connection it may have to Claude’s death. Of course I don’t believe a song killed him, but my instincts tell me the composition is at least tangentially related to the truth. It’s easy to believe the widow to be responsible for the older man’s death, but I can’t jump straight to that conclusion. Not when there’s another mystery lurking over his passing.

When the service ends, Audrey waits next to the casket to accept the condolences of all present. She looks so tired. The caretaker in me wants to whisk her away somewhere she can rest and mourn in private without having to put on a face for so many others.

The attendees one by one offer words of encouragement to Audrey before leaving for the reception. I’ve never understoodthe purpose of a reception after a funeral. Why do we force grieving people to host others as though they’re celebrating something and not enduring the worst pain of their lives?

I hold onto my indignation until the person in front of us approaches Audrey. He’s a gray-haired man of around fifty with a tall and regal bearing, handsome in an academic sort of way. He smiles and takes Audrey’s hand in both of his. “If you need anything, Audrey, anything at all, please call me. Claude was always an earnest supporter of my music history channel. The very least I can do is ensure his wife is well taken care of.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Louis.”

I commit Louis's name and face to memory. If Louis knows music history and was personally acquainted with Claude Durand, then maybe he knows about this so-called cursed composition. Maybe he can tell me the history of this piece, and I can learn the truth behind the curse.

We reach Audrey, and the room seems to cool by ten degrees. Audrey’s smile vanishes, and Josephine’s shoulders stiffen like boards. Josephine lifts a hand as though to embrace Audrey but stops herself and only says, “I’m sorry for your loss, Audrey. If you need anything, please call me.”

Audrey nods and offers a curt “Thank you.”

I expect a warmer interaction with Etienne. Even if her crush on him was ultimately harmless, his sorrow for her appears unfeigned, and I would think she would want even the brief comfort of an embrace.

Instead, she seems even colder, and when a somewhat confused Etienne says, “We’ll miss him very much,” her lip curls.

“I’m sure you will,” she says.

Once more, her tenderness is reserved only for the children. They, of course, burst into tears when they see her. I see the ice in her expression crack, then melt. She pulls them both to her and embraces them fiercely. They repeat over and over, “I’msorry, I’m sorry,” and she repeats over and over, “I know. It’s all right.”

I wonder if Audrey understands the true meaning of their apology or if her words are only intended as generic comfort for the children.

Finally, we leave. The reception is held at the Midnight Melody. I am excited for my first chance to see the club, but it turns out the reception is limited to the lobby, and the rest of the club is locked and off-limits. At least Audrey doesn’t have to host it.

I’m not surprised when Audrey takes advantage of that fact and makes only a token appearance before leaving. I’m also not surprised when Etienne approaches me and tells me quietly that the family will be leaving for a private dinner. I’m welcome to stay as long as I’d like, and Henri will pick me up when I’m ready to return home.

Of course, I understand that. I have only been governess for three days, and I've arrived just in time for a terrible tragedy to strike the family. I don't at all expect to be treated like family myself.

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