Page 42 of One Last Regret

Etienne sighs. “Right. You’re right. Sorry. I just…” He chuckles and lifts his hands, then lets them drop.

Amelia turns to me, pleading. “Can you destroy it, Mary? Please?”

I blink, and my back stiffens with a fear I don’t entirely understand. “I…”

I am saved from having to give an answer when Josephine’s phone rings. She frowns and mutters, “Why would Audrey want to call me?”

She answers, and I watch her face go from irritation to shock to wooden blankness within a few seconds. She says nothing for a while, and then when she does speak, it's only one-word acknowledgments. "I see. Yes. Of course. Thank you."

Then she says, “Of course. We’ll help with the arrangements in any way we can.”

Etienne sits bolt upright. The children flinch, and even Gabriel appears concerned. Josephine is as straight and stiff andfragile as crystal. Eventually, she says, “Thank you. Please call me if you need anything,” and hangs up.

She drops her head into her hands, grabs a fistful of hair and squeezes until the knuckles turn white. The rest of us watch her warily. Amelia is the one to finally break the silence. “What’s wrong, Grandma?”

Josephine sits up and begins to chew on the nails of her right hand, her left still gripping her hair. The effect is frightening. She looks like a madwoman.

“Grandma?” Amelia begins again, her lips trembling.

“God,” Josephine breathes, dropping both hands to the table.

I stand and put my hands on the children’s shoulders. “Gabriel, Amelia, come with me. We’ve put school aside long enough. It’s time we returned to our lessons.”

I’m not really concerned that they’ll fall behind academically, but getting them back into a normal routine might be the best weapon I have against the growing mania affecting this family.

Once more, my best-laid plans are not to be.

“Forget about school, Mary,” Josephine says. “We have another funeral to plan.”

I shake my head, cautioning her not to speak of this in front of the children. She doesn’t get the hint.

“Audrey Durand was found dead in her apartment this morning.”

“What?” Amelia cries.

“How?” Gabriel asks. “What happened?”

It’s a testament to my own fragile mental state that my first reaction to Gabriel’s concern is relief that he shows any. Reason asserts itself, though, and anticipating the worst, I reply before Josephine can, “Now is not the time for that conversation. Children, we must let your father and grandmother talk. I’m sure they’ll answer whatever questions you have when they’re ready, but this is not a time for children. Come upstairs.”

“It’s the music!” Amelia says. “It’s that damned composition!”

“Watch your language!”

“Fuckmy language! That thing is going to kill all of us unlesswekillit!”

“No music killed Audrey,” Josephine snaps. “She killed herself. She cut her wrists in the bathtub.”

“Josephine, that is enough!” I cry.

The thunder in my voice shocks everyone at the table. Josephine and Etienne stare at me in shock. The children are also shocked, but I’m sure it’s the news of Audrey’s manner of death that shocks them more than my rebuke of their grandmother.

“Children, go upstairs,” I command. “Now.”

Amelia stands up so abruptly that her chair clatters to the floor. Tears streaming from her face, she brushes past Henri. Henri follows two steps to make sure she doesn’t run into the parlor, but she heads straight for the steps. He turns around and meets my eyes, and I see naked despair in his. I know less about him than anyone in this household, but I can only imagine how hard it is for him to watch a family he’s known for decades fall apart in front of him.

Gabriel carefully puts Amelia’s chair back where it belongs before leaving. The numb expression he’s worn for the past several days is replaced with a look of concern and worry that is far too mature to belong on the face of a twelve-year-old. When he leaves the dining room, Henri squeezes his shoulder, and Gabriel brushes his hand over his.

Henri looks at his employers, both of whom sit wearing pouts that would look far more appropriate on the faces of the two young people who just left the room. A sigh of disgust escapes his list, and then he says, “I’ll clean the parlor, ma’am.”

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