Be What Love Is Page 3

  I pass the handkerchief back over. I’ve got to get out of here. “I’m sorry, I’m exhausted and terribly sad. If you don’t mind, I’ll pass on meeting the bishop.”

  He stands up so that we’re face-to-face and places a hand on my forearm. It’s warm and soft, the exact opposite of his accusation. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, totally. It was nice to meet you,” I mumble and give them a half-ass wave before I leave the room. Julie follows close behind.

  When we’re far enough away, she whispers, “What a jerk. Who does he think he is, judging you? He doesn’t even know you.”

  “Honestly, a part of me doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t know me, and I was gone for a really long time. God, I regret that so much. It's no wonder he thinks I’m here for the money. But don't worry about it, okay?”

  “You know that’s not how I roll. I was on the verge of socking him.”

  “Well, I guess he’s hurting,” I reply, unsure why I’m defending him at all.

  “He certainly smells like he’s trying to drown his sorrows.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” I sneer.

  Once we get to the bedrooms, I sigh. “Listen, I’m so tired. I really do want to take a shower and go to bed, you don’t mind, do you?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, I promise. Talk tomorrow?”

  Julie hums as she considers it. “Okay, but if you need me at all, wake me up, got it?”

  “Got it.” I hug her before going into the bathroom down the hall from my room and closing the door quickly behind me. I slide down to the bathroom floor and take a deep breath for what feels like the first time since I met Reid Lewis.

  Reid

  Bishop Thomas is an overstuffed man with puffy cheeks and a berry colored nose. If you ask me, he’s been indulging on the communion wine a little too long. Not that I have any room to talk. The tea is helping with the buzz, but I’m barely paying attention to the Bishop or Victoria as they make small adjustments to the funeral program. I make sure to nod and verbally agree when appropriate, but my mind is elsewhere.

  More specifically it’s a floor above us, wherever Cara is.

  Her delicate face keeps invading my head, and I get stuck on the way her cheekbones lifted when she smiled or how she chewed on her plump pink lips when she listened to someone speak. I can’t help but trace over the lines in my palm that last made contact with her skin, over and over again.

  It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, of course. Every few minutes I cringe over the way her eyebrow arched when I confronted her about her intentions. I’d like to blame the alcohol for making me sloppy and saying the things I said to her. But the truth is, my resentment has been building since I learned she was a beneficiary. My mind is still too foggy to process it all. She didn’t come across as opportunistic, especially when she was crying. Her vulnerability was palpable, as was her inexperience. Then again, she had a great deal of moxie when she attempted to put me in my place.

  I could spend an entire day imagining that smart mouth of hers…

  Victoria pokes my arm and asks, “Reid, are you with us?”

  “Yes,” I lie.

  Bishop Thomas and Victoria stare at me, waiting for me to say something.

  “Pardon me, I suppose I wasn’t following after all.”

  “Will you give the final eulogy?” Bishop Thomas asks.

  “Of course,” I reply and note for the first time that Cara isn’t included in the funeral program. I bite on my cheek. Should I speak up about that or move on? Erring on the side of Trevor and Anna’s plans, I’ll let it go and hope it doesn’t come back to bite me.

  Bishop Thomas wraps up the meeting and slowly rises from his chair. I thank him for his time and escort him out. Victoria takes a phone call and stays behind. Once the bishop leaves, I close the door and rest my forehead against it. How is any of this real? How are Trevor and Anna gone? And how am I going to handle Cara Montgomery?

  Cara

  Once my fingers have wrinkled up like the golden raisins I loved as a little girl, I shut off the water, wrap a towel loosely around me, and gather my things. I’m so ready for bed. When I open the door, I catch Reid standing in front of my bedroom, and it appears he’s going to knock. I retreat back into the bathroom and peek around the door. What does he want? Reid hesitates and then pulls his hand away. He runs it through his hair and shakes his head. Then he huffs and is going to knock but stops himself again.

  Before he does anything else, Mrs. McHenry comes around the corner, carrying a stack of folded towels. “Good evening, Mr. Lewis. All go well with Bishop Thomas?”

  Startled, he pulls away and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yes,” he replies.

  She nods and sniffles. Her grieving is a reminder of their dedication to this house and my family over the years. It breaks my heart just that much more.

  Reid must pick up on it too. “Let me give you a hand,” he says gently and takes the towels from her. It’s the kindest I’ve seen him in our limited association and makes me curious if the man I met downstairs is not quite the asshole I pegged him for.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lewis.” She pulls a tissue from the pocket of her dress and uses it gingerly. “They go in the linen closet by the loo.”

  I quickly and quietly close the door before they can see me. Then I press my ear to the door to keep listening.

  “It’s so nice to have a full house again, the past couple of days have been…,” Mrs. McHenry says.

  “I know,” Reid replies softly.

  “And to have Cara back is wonderful. I only wish that Mr. Montgomery was here to see it. He adored that girl. Absolutely adored her.”

  “Really?” Reid sounds skeptical, and I roll my eyes.

  “It was too painful for him. And probably for Cara too.” I think Mrs. McHenry says. Her voice is drifting away from the door. “She wailed the day they left. It was the most heartbreaking moment of our lives here. Well, until recently.”

  Reid doesn’t reply, at least from what I can tell. I wish I could somehow see his face. I’m interested to know if her story changed his mind about me. Like I said to Julie, I get where his accusations about me being opportunistic come from, but it’s just not true. And while it probably doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, since I’ll surely never see him again after this ordeal, I’d hate to know that there’s a person out in the world that believes I’m anything but what I am.

  They’ve both gone silent, so I figure they’ve wandered away from the bathroom. I wait a little longer, just to be sure, before cracking the door open and peeking out. The hallway is empty, and Reid’s door is closed.

  Now’s my chance.

  With a towel wrapped around me and my dirty clothes in tow, I tiptoe toward my room. But tiptoeing doesn’t prevent the floorboards from creaking, not even a little bit, and as soon as I step in front of Reid’s door, he opens it in a flash.

  “Mrs. McHenry, could you—” he starts, but abruptly stops when we see each other. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, so we're both showing more skin than two practical strangers should. My ability to act normal hits rock bottom as I drop all my dirty clothes in a rush to tighten my towel.

  “I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time and bend over, nearly knocking our heads together, to pick up my stuff. The muscles in his arms and abdomen are flexing as he grabs my leggings and, heaven help me, my bra. He won’t make eye contact with me, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it. I snatch both items out of his grasp, and then all that lays between us is my pair of red panties that probably match the color of my face. I’m frozen in mortification. He doesn’t move either, which means he values his life.

  “Cara,” he grunts. It’s a request to do something, anything about the panties. Like they’re a ticking time bomb that must be diffused before we’re blown to smithereens.

  An unexpected rush of courage pushes through my veins, so I look up at him. He’s now sta
ring at me with the same penetrative gaze he had downstairs, but there's something else there too, a hint of vulnerability that I didn’t pick up on earlier. I don’t know what to make of it, or him for that matter, so I quickly grab for my panties, fold them into my dress, and take off toward my room. Without another word between us, I slip inside and slam the door harder than intended. With my back against the door, I clench my clothes to my chest, replaying what just happened between us, my skin growing warmer by the second. How on earth am I going to face him again?

  Reid

  Maybe writing out my eulogy is a bad idea. My laptop is cradled between my legs with a blank document staring back at me. I’m at a complete loss for words. I consider just improvising, but squash that idea right away. Trevor taught me better. Preparation is the key to success.

  The cursor pulses in front of me, waiting, but I’ve got nothing. My mind keeps going back to Cara in that towel. I run my hands through my hair and rest the heels on my eyes. I can’t get the image of her out of my head. And those fucking panties. I can’t believe I’ve already seen a pair of her panties.

  Already? Like it’s a foregone conclusion that I would be seeing her panties at some point? Get yourself together, Lewis.

  Cara is the literal definition of temptation, like a Siren singing to me from her rocky shores. If only like Odysseus, I had a crew that could tie me to the mast of my ship, so I don’t sail toward my doom while settling this estate.

  Perhaps that’s a touch overdramatic, but if I don’t get a handle on this, she’s going to muck up my plans and put the firm’s expansion at risk. She’s going to put me at risk…

  Right, I’m not going to think about that. Cara is a beautiful woman. That’s all there is to it. What’s the big deal? I shouldn’t dwell. I encounter beautiful women every day. Hell, Victoria is the classic example of a beautiful woman, and I don’t lose all sense around her. Not that I would ever consider something like that with Victoria. Since our time at university together, it’s never crossed my mind to pursue her. Plus, I’ve heard she’s a man-eater, and I want no part of that.

  Cara in that towel, on the other hand. That’s something I could be a part of.

  The screensaver turns on, and I groan. Damn it, man. Focus. I swipe across the trackpad to turn it off and am confronted once again by the blank document in front of me.

  Despite what Mrs. McHenry said, I’m still not convinced that Cara isn’t playing us and is only here for her inheritance. Cara might be an exceptional actress. She’s been living in California, after all. Maybe she hangs out with Hollywood types, and they’ve taught her a thing or two. I honestly don’t know much about her or what she does for a living. Based on her clothes, and even her panties, she doesn’t appear to wear fine things. Her shoes had scuffs, and one of them was coming apart from the sole. I’m not sure what that tells me about her intentions, but I’m going to continue to be guarded.

  I glance from the pulsing cursor to the wall that Cara and I share. She isn’t part of the program. Mine or anyone else’s. Except for Trevor apparently. He brought her back here, and that little twist could easily throw me off my game. All I hope is that I’ll get through the funeral, get through the business of the will, and get back to London before I do anything stupid.

  My determination to stay on track clears my mind enough to start drafting my eulogy. I keep it brief and respectful. No big emotions, no dramatic flare. It’s what they would have wanted.

  Chapter Three

  Ashes to Ashes

  Cara

  Bishop Thomas leads the procession of my grandfather and Anna’s caskets into the cathedral, as the enormous organ plays a haunting hymn. Upon seeing their caskets, my throat constricts, a feeling I’m now very used to.

  I study the pallbearers, young and old. I don't recognize any of them, except for Reid. He's carrying the first casket, which I assume is his aunt. He's wearing a classic black suit, with a black tie on a white shirt. Meanwhile, I’m severely underdressed in a black chiffon dress I last wore to a fraternity date-party in undergrad. Money has been tight, so I thought it would work. Based on a lot of the looks I’ve received, I was wrong.

  According to the arrangements, Julie and I are seated up front, across the aisle from that twiggy blonde woman, Victoria, and where I assume Reid will be sitting.

  Reid is stoic, staring straightforward, unwavering and unemotional. My heart hurts for our loss. His gaze flits over to where I am, and we make eye contact. There's a glossy sheen over his eyes, and because of his sorrow, tears start to stream down my face. He blinks rapidly then quickly turns away. I do the same and stare up at the bishop as he prepares for the service.

  Once the pallbearers and the caskets are settled, the service opens with a welcoming prayer. I stare at my grandfather’s casket and am overwhelmed with grief and full of regret that I can’t shake.

  The service shifts from standard prayers and readings to eulogies. The man sitting behind me goes up to the front and starts speaking.

  “Trevor and Anna were great dear friends, taken much too soon from us.”

  I lean forward, hoping to learn more about the years I lost with my grandfather, hoping he was loved.

  “I knew Trevor through business and through our association he demonstrated a deep commitment to his company. He was an honest man with a keen sense of what was profitable and what was not.” He pauses, and a few low chuckles echo through the cathedral. I personally don’t get the joke. “Anna was such a delight at dinner parties. I always remarked that she had the finest china in all of Somerset. Rest in peace, dear friends.”

  Ugh. So my grandfather was good at making money, and Anna had lovely dishes. Great.

  As he returns to his seat, another man takes his place and gives a similar tribute. According to the program, the eulogies have been planned, just like everything else.

  Next is a woman who speaks about playing bridge with Anna and their active participation in some charity. And then one of my grandfather’s college friends stands up. I’m hopeful for something more meaningful, or at least funny, but he’s the driest of the bunch.

  Last in the program is Reid. All of my hope is pinned on him to eulogize my grandfather.

  In one fluid movement, he rises from the pew and stands behind their caskets. He looks down at them for a brief moment and then clears his throat. My fingernails press into my palms. He’s lost all of his family. I’m sure there won’t be a dry eye in the place. He glances at me and then to the rest of the mourners.

  “Trevor and Anna were private, good-hearted people. They will both live on through their charitable work and in the hearts and memories of those that knew them and cared about them. Rest in peace.”

  And that’s it. Nothing more. That could have been said about anybody. I swallow hard and try to let it go.

  With the same grace, he walks back to his pew and sits next to Victoria. She has not shed a single tear through the service. She places a hand on his knee. He looks down at it for a second before putting his hand on top of hers.

  I bite my lip and refer to the program again, but all I see is red. The tributes are over, so the service goes on. I barely listen as the anger in me bubbles up. I wasn’t even given the option to speak.

  By the time Bishop Thomas delivers his sermon on the hope of life after death, I'm livid. I have to do something. I have to speak on behalf of my grandfather. As he finishes and moves away from the pulpit, adrenaline pushes me onto my feet, and I stand before the crowd of strangers.

  “Wait, just wait,” I shout.

  Everyone looks up at me, and the organ stops playing. I sense the bishop staring at me. He clears his throat to get my attention, but I ignore him and rest my hand on my grandfather’s casket. A part of me wants to throw my body over it, in some dramatic soap opera kind of way, but I hold it together. Sort of.

  They all wait for me to speak, including Reid. He’s staring at me with narrow eyes, flared nostrils and gritted teeth. Yikes. I take a deep brea
th and go for it.

  “My name is Cara Montgomery, and Trevor Montgomery was my grandfather. Before he’s put into the ground, I have to say…” I pause trying to find my words. “That I loved him, and more than that, he loved me. A lot.” This isn’t sounding nearly as good as it did in my head.

  “What I mean is that he was capable of pure unconditional love. Yes, he was a great businessman and philanthropist and all that, but he was capable of so much more, of loving with his whole heart, completely. When I lived here, he would always find a way to spend time with me. Whether that was putting me to bed, or playing make-believe.” I giggle through my tears at a memory.

  “You should have seen him play the Queen. He did the best impression of her when I wanted to pretend I was a princess.” The McHenrys laugh a little, Julie too, but no one else does, especially not Reid.

  “My mom had me when she was young, and I never knew my dad, so my grandfather was it for me.” The crowd starts whispering. Surely they aren’t used to someone like me airing their dirty laundry so publicly. I glance at Reid, who has turned tomato red. I’m sure steam will be billowing from his ears by the time I finish.

  “I couldn’t have asked for a better person in my life, a better father figure. And when we left, I missed him all the time. And,” I start to lose it a bit and turn back to his casket. “I’m so sorry, Granddad. I’m sorry that I stayed away for so long. Please forgive me.” The tears start falling harder. Thank God, Julie comes to my side to help me take a seat. My quiet sobbing fills the cathedral.

  As if nothing happened, Bishop Thomas proceeds and my interruption isn’t acknowledged. I’m relieved I got that off my chest, and I’m able to really breathe for the first time during the funeral. I glance over at Reid and catch him glaring at me. His face is flush and eyes are wild. I turn away from him and take a deep refreshing breath.