Page 226 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

A pause.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dom said.

‘Are you?’ she snapped. ‘What do you even care? You went after his company and you succeeded. You won, right? So don’t pretend you give a fig.’

‘I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. That’s what I meant.’

Mari put her head down, a concession to a nod. That was fair. This was the man who’d so recently lost his mother.

‘The funeral’s tomorrow,’ she said, licking her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. ‘I need to be there.’

‘You’ll be there,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’ she asked. ‘A deal going on somewhere else in the world that you need to take care of? A company somewhere that you need to take over?’

‘Marianne,’ he said, trying to get through to her, trying to break down this invisible barrier that she’d erected between them, ‘if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my years of experience it’s that I have to be in the place where I’m most needed at the time. Right at this moment, that place is here with you.’

She was quiet on the plane back to Melbourne, lost in her grief for the loss of a dear friend, her answers and comments to the cabin crew monosyllabic. He ached for her. He wanted to ease her burden. He wanted to put right whatever he’d done wrong. He wanted to comfort her, like she had comforted him in those dark hours after his mother had died. But she didn’t want his comfort.

She didn’t want him.

And that was the hardest thing of all.

The funeral chapel oozed empathy and compassion. The decor was muted, a lectern to one side, and there, on the dais, sat the flower-topped coffin, arrangements of flowers standing either side.

Dom held back, not sure that he’d be welcomed by the family when Mari hugged Eric’s wife and then his daughters, before taking a seat. Dom sat beside her, even though it was an all too painful reminder of the so recent funeral of his mother. But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t here for himself today. He was here for Marianne.

She was broken, he could tell. Eric had meant the world to her. He’d been both her mentor and a father figure to replace the parent she’d lost when just a young child. Knowing that he’d added to her pain by whatever stupid thing he’d told her at the cemetery, he hated himself.

If only he knew what he’d done wrong.

The funeral service moved on. Prayers and readings and a eulogy delivered by his daughter that brought everyone to tears. And finally, the heart-wrenching kicker—the photographic display set to Leonard Cohen’s beautiful ‘Hallelujah’ that spanned Eric’s life, from when he had been just a baby and then a toddler and a schoolchild and onwards through his life, his marriage to Helen, his children, until he was CEO of Cooper Industries, and there were photographs from business and Christmas lunches, awards he’d won, and snapshots in which Marianne appeared, leaning down and smiling, her arm around Eric’s shoulders, or when Eric was dressed up as Santa, his arm around Mari’s shoulders.

Mari quietly sobbed beside him as each new picture flashed up on the screen. He reached a hand over to hers where they were clutched in her lap, but she pulled them away.

The interment was just as moving. Just as much an ordeal. While Eric’s widow and daughters softly sobbed as the coffin was lowered into the grave, Marianne was contained and stoic, her emotions clearly held in check as she stood swaying ever so slightly at the graveside. But he could feel the pain vibrating through her, he could see the pain etched on her beautiful features, and her pain was his pain.

Afterwards there was a small reception for everyone to mingle and take refreshments. Helen Cooper was doing the rounds, shaking hands with and thanking everyone for coming, when she approached Mari and Dom.

‘It was a beautiful service,’ said Mari. ‘Eric deserved every bit of it.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ she said, taking Mari’s hands in hers and pressing her cheek with a kiss, before turning to Dom beside her. ‘Mr Estefan, I believe,’ she said, and she shook his hand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you earlier. Thank you for coming.’

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure—’

‘Oh, no,’ she said, waving his concerns away. ‘Thank you for buying Cooper Industries when you did. I know it was his passion but I only wish Eric had sold it years earlier. These last few weeks have been such a gift. I will cherish the precious time Eric and I had together for ever.’

‘He was so looking forward to spending time with you,’ said Mari. ‘I didn’t expect we’d lose Eric so soon.’

Helen gave a wan smile. ‘Nobody did. But he didn’t suffer at the end so that’s something to be grateful for.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I just selfishly wish there’d been more time to enjoy having him to myself, but perhaps it’s for the best.’ She patted the back of Mari’s hand. ‘And now I must move on. Thank you both for coming.’

For the best.

There was something about those words, something that snagged in Dom’s mind.

‘Take me home,’ Marianne said, sounding tired.

She closed her eyes in the car and rested her head back on the head rest, so quiet that Dom thought she’d fallen asleep.

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