Page 133 of Fearless

“We’re not doing it for him or us,” Maggie had explained, “but for his kids.” When they were old enough to understand what had happened to their father, they would have solid evidence that he had been loved and looked after, rather than an empty story from their mothers’ unenthusiastic lips.

Ava was setting out cups of lemonade and little cocktail napkins on a second table – Maggie had learned the hard way, once, that you always needed a sugary drink on hand in case a bereft family member got faint – when Andre’s ex, Kayla, walked in, new husband, toddler, and baby bump in tow.

Bonita touched Ava’s elbow beside and her whispered, “Ay Dios mio, here we go.”

Ava watched her mother go to meet the young woman, fake smile touched with an appropriate amount of sympathy. “Kayla, it’s so good to see you.”

Kayla – pretty, but dull and open-mouthed most of the time – held her little girl’s hand with one hand, and pressed the other to the top of her rounded stomach. Her husband wore a new, but ill-fitting suit. The three of them looked miserable.

Kayla’s eyes moved around the room. “You didn’t need to do all this. Not like he deserved it.”

“Charming, no?” Bonita whispered.

Ava shook her head. “I’m surprised she even came.”

Ronnie appeared in the threshold of the viewing room, stepping awkwardly around Kayla and company, coming straight toward her. He’d pulled a sport coat on over his khakis and plaid oxford; very casual for him, only a little too casual for a funeral. He looked happy, which Ava found inappropriate. By the time he reached her, she was frowning, wishing he wasn’t even here.

God, how awful of her.

“Hey, I’ve got good news.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Everything’s all finalized. I’ve got the apartment.”

She didn’t smile back. “That’s great.”

“I’m going to start moving my stuff in right now.” He cast a wondering glance at Bonita, not sure how much he should say in front of her. “You wanna come? We can make a day of it. If I get the furniture set up, we can spend the night there tonight.” His wide eyes and lifted brows said,We can get away from your parents and finally get some action off each other.

Her frown deepened. “My mom needs my help today.”

He looked over his shoulder, at the mostly empty room, at Andre in his coffin with a little shudder. “No offense, but there’s nobody here. She needs your help with what?”

Bonita excused herself, and went to join Maggie. Ava caught the woman’s fast glance, though, that question as to how she meant to handle this situation. If there was a code amongst the guys, then there was one amongst the old ladies, too. There was an expectation of strength there.

Ava folded her arms. “A memberdied, Ronnie. It doesn’t matter if I spend all day counting the ceiling tiles; I need to be here to show support to the club with the other old ladies.”

His head jerked back, like she’d slapped at him. “Show support? Ava, you’re not anold lady.”

Then it was her turn to feel slapped, because he was right, wasn’t he? She wasn’t an old lady. She was a club daughter, and even if the club loved her like one, there was a big difference there.

He’d held her hand yesterday when she’d talked about Mason, when she’d shed tears at the memory. But she couldn’t detect any of that sympathy in him now. He used it like a weapon, the change in her: you don’t belong here.

“The club’s my family, though,” she said, voice a little unsteady. “And I’m helping in any way I can.”

He sighed. “I’ve tried to be really…ugh. You know what, forget it. I’ll talk to you later.” And he turned away from her and left the way he’d come.

Maggie appeared at her elbow. “What was that about?”

Ava shook her head. “I’m different, when I’m here at home. Different, and he doesn’t like it.”

Maggie made a thoughtful sound. “No, baby,” she said. “I think you’re differentawayfrom here.”

The procession to the cemetery was a spectacular thing to behold. Her dad was the spearhead directly behind the hearse, and the rest of the Dogs were staggered behind him in twin columns, all in black, all proudly flying colors. The cars followed, hazards flashing. And every resident who happened to be on the streets of Knoxville at the time turned to see what the immense animal growl coming down Main Street heralded. From the passenger seat of her truck, Ava watched the mingled awe and fear bloom on the faces they passed, a little nervous, a lot proud. She watched their sinister black reflection in the wavy plate glass of shop fronts, in order to keep her eyes off Mercy up ahead of them.

She’d known the moment he’d come into the viewing room, back at Flanders’. She’d felt his presence, this little tickling up the back of her neck, a faint heat stirring under her skin. When she’d turned, she’d found him watching her, his face pleasant and incomprehensible. She hadn’t seen him since Saturday, when the moment under the portico with him had stirred up all the old memories that always left her shaken and sick. He’d given her a single nod and looked away, and she’d had an aching lump in her throat, touched more by that gesture than she had been by Ronnie’s desertion.

It was a horrible thing, realizing she was still so in love with Mercy.

“You’re awful quiet over there,” Maggie said from behind the wheel.

“Just thinking.”

---