Requiem

“Then don’t tel him until it feels right.”

“What if it never feels right?”

“I don’t know,” I said, turning off the water. A towel flew up and over the shower door, landing on my head. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Claire said, shutting the door behind her.

By the time I was dressed and ready, Claire, Jared and Bex were downstairs in the kitchen, discussing Ryan. Just by entering the room, it was obvious it was not a constructive conversation.

“You’re such a hypocrite!” Claire growled.

Jared slammed the side of his fist on the table. “Are you in love with him?”

“No!”

“Then it’s a different scenario!” Jared glanced in my direction, and then took a breath, attempting a calmer tone. “You said it yourself. It doesn’t feel right to tel him.”

I sat down, scanning the siblings with my eyes before speaking. Outwardly, Claire was angry. But her eyes were begging for understanding.

Tel ing Ryan anything was a huge step for her, and just as Jared struggled with it two years before, Claire was now fighting with her conflicting feelings. She needed her brothers to support her I took a seat across from Jared, and next to Claire. The choice was meaningful, and I hoped that they would notice. “Maybe Claire is looking for your blessing, Jared,” I said.

“Or just some understanding,” she grumbled.

Bex stood up, and walked across the kitchen, picking up a plate, and then setting in front of me. It was an omelet, loaded with ham, green onion, mushrooms, and cheese.

“Thanks,” I smiled.

Bex nodded, and then touched his sister’s shoulder. “Claire, I love you. But if you’d take a step back and think about this. Ryan is a cop. He’s investigating murders you committed. What do you think he’s going to do when you tel him you murdered his partner? You think he’s going to forgive you because he saw your eyes in the desert?”

“The partner that orchestrated his kidnapping and ultimate demise,” Claire said. “Listen,” she sighed, “I know how it looks on paper. I may not be in love with Ryan, but he says he’s in love with me. If he listens to what I have to say, and I approach it careful y, I think he could be an asset.”

“We can’t take that chance,” Jared said, finality in his voice.

Claire stood, her palms flat on the table. “You took the same chance when you told Nina, and she wasn’t even an asset! Her life has spun out of control since the second you revealed yourself to her, Jared. At least let me make my own decision, like you did!”

Jared’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You were on me for months about Nina, Claire! How quickly you forget the hours I spent listening to your lectures on doing the right thing. Keep the secret. Keep the secret! That’s been your mantra for years!”

Tears fil ed Claire’s eyes as her face turned red. “Coming from you!” she screamed. “You know what it’s like to have no one, and you know what it’s like to final y be free of the burden of what we are; to have someone else besides your mother, or your brothers to confide in! I have no one, Jared! You’ve lived it, and you stil deny me the liberation you insisted on?”

Jared shifted in his seat, but I could see in his eyes he would not yield. Claire saw it, too.

“Go to hel !” she shrieked before storming out of the house. She slammed the door with such force that the surrounding painting and pictures on the wal fel from their nails, and crashed to the floor.

“You’re making a mistake,” I said, meeting Jared’s obstinate stare. “Claire, wait!” I yel ed, hoping she would hear it before she sped away. I ran outside, stopping at the Lotus.

Claire wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I cry when I’m mad.”

“I do, too,” I said, offering an apologetic smile.

“He asked me to go to Anderson’s funeral.” Claire focused her eyes straight forward, too emotional to make eye contact.

“Are you going?”

“I couldn’t think of a good enough reason when he asked, but I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Claire’s ice blue eyes darted up in surprise. “You wil ?”

“Yeah,” I said. “When?”

“In an hour,” she said, attempting to mask her hopeful expression.

I looked at my watch. “Okay. Give me a minute to get dressed.”

Jared frowned as I slipped on a demure black dress. I sat down on the bed to pul up my black stockings, and he sat beside me.

“This is inappropriate on so many levels,” he said.

“Kind of like you sitting next to the reason your father lost his life on the night he died?” I said, slipping on my heels. Jared helped me with my coat, and then I poked a pearl earring into each of my ears. I turned, cupping his jaw with my hands. “Your point is justifiable, but it is her choice, Jared, just like it was yours. Trust Claire to make her own decision. She’s never let you down before.”

“She’s never wanted to tel before.”

“Then that’s your answer,” I said, kissing his soft, warm lips. His mouth lingered on mine, and then I pul ed away, knowing Claire was anxiously waiting.

I returned to the Lotus alone, slipping into the passenger seat. Claire pul ed on her large, dark sunglasses, and then shoved the gear into first, soaring down the drive, and fish-tailing when she hit the street.

Saints Peter and Paul cathedral was surrounded by dozens of police cruisers, and even more civilian vehicles. The line at the entrance was already backed up to the next block by sniffling mourners.

“We should have come earlier,” I said.

“We shouldn’t be here at al ,” Claire said quietly. “Shit.”

A knock on her window prompted Claire to rol it down, revealing Ryan in his dress blues. “You made it,” he said with a reserved grin. He opened the door for Claire, and then jogged around the front of her car, opening the door for me. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”

I simply nodded, walking behind Ryan as he escorted Claire to the front steps, bypassing the endless line of weeping friends and family. As we passed them, some recognized Ryan and shook his hand. Seeing him seemed to upset some of the women, and even some of the men fought back tears as Ryan traded quiet words during a short hug. Once they acknowledged Ryan, their expressions changed to curiosity, evaluating the smal young lady in the black, leather dress with pointed-toe stilettos.

Each person we passed offered a pained expression for Ryan, and then regarded Claire with bewilderment. Claire’s dress was long-sleeved, with a respectable crew-neck line. Her skirt was short, but an inch longer than mid-thigh. Maybe it was her beauty that struck them, or the black stilettos that shot up from the ground, turning into a slithering snake with a shiny, turquoise eye on the stainless steel heel of her shoe.

The ensemble was something only Claire would dare wear to a funeral, but the look fit her. Ryan didn’t seem to mind. Before we reached the doorway, Ryan took Claire’s hand in his, and led her down the aisle. She glanced back at me, unsure of how to react.

We walked to the front of the sanctuary, seated behind the family, but on the first row of police officers that served with Kit Anderson. Ryan sat between Claire and me, making the situation even more uncomfortable. The pianist worked the keys, and a solemn song echoed throughout the church. Two rows ahead, in the center of the pew, two smal children sat on each side of a woman. A man sitting in front of Claire reached forward to touch her shoulder. She patted his hand, and then squeezed her young son closer.