The Mourners

I feel this offering could be much longer, but we are not ready for a novel yet, are we? I may not have eaten enough chocolate today though, so let me know if I missed a typo or something seems to be in German. Also, I now have 10 followers, counting 2 who must be using RSS feeds, where are the other 15? Doesn't someone want cookies?

Pauline shifted nervously in her seat. It had been so long since she attended a funeral for one of her own people. When Johnson called, she could no longer deny her own faith.  She had to return to the soil. She needed to come back to a life she thought she had cast aside. This time, the dearly departed held too much power, especially in death, to risk offending her. So here she sat, forcing herself to maintain a certain stillness to avoid drawing attention.

No matter how still she remained, she always caught someone’s eye. Having been gone so long, she became the stranger in the room. They acknowledged her with furtive glances and heads bent together in secret consultation. No one approached, but she knew many wished they possessed such courage. As she lowered her head, pulling hopelessly at the hem of her skirt, which she now realized was too short, a pair of shoes appeared next to her own. Polished brown leather with no scuffs and a slight heel stood out in stark contrast to her battered black pumps with shredded points.

“Well, Pauline, I see you braved our anger and rejection for the queen’s funeral.” The soft roll of his voice conjured up a warm summer wind brushing her cheeks as seaweed and salt blended in her nostrils.

“Johnson?” She slowly lifted her head to look into familiar dark eyes.

“It hasn’t been so long then? You remember me.” He offered a warm smile as slender hands with long fingers reached out for hers. He continued after pulling her to her feet and placing a hasty kiss on each cheek. “You always were the most beautiful of us, cousin. If I sit with you, I’ll finally be the center of attention.”

“Not the kind of attention you want, I’m sure.” He continued to hold one of her hands gently as she reclaimed her seat.

He took the seat beside her, stretching out his long legs with a contented sigh. “When you get to be my age in this family, all attention is wanted.”

Pauline shook her head before bowing it once more over clasped hands. Even in the few seconds she had been looking up, she noted how many eyes were focused on her. Despite the occasional giggle, Johnson seemed content to sit in companionable silence while the rest of the mourners watched. Pauline allowed the soft voices spewing gossip to roll over her, feeling her loose, dark curls brushing her cheeks as she shook her head in disagreement or consternation at these stories. She could only dream of living a life as exciting as the ones her relatives clearly envied even though they poked fun at her decision to leave the bosom of the family.

“There she is,” Johnson leaned toward Pauline, brushing her leg with his hand. “The new reigning queen of the family.”

Pauline looked up, scanning the faces of the newcomers. She recognized Millie instantly. Tight, dark curls hung down to the middle of her back, pulled them back with two heavy hair combs studded with pearls. Pauline recognized the combs as well. Her dark eyes narrowed.

“She hasn’t earned those yet. No one knows for sure that she’ll be named the matriarch.” She whispered through a tight-lipped smile.

“Who else could it be?” Johnson’s eyes wandered to the other female faces in the crowd.

Pauline’s eyes also wandered from face to face. “Mable? Claudine? Erica? Anyone but Millie.”

Johnson laughed softly. “Well, she does have the name.”

“Her name means nothing unless she is named in the letter.”

“That’s true. Who do you really think…”

“Shh.” The older woman behind them cut off his words.

Every face in the room turned toward the podium. An old man stumbled toward it with the help of an ornate cane. He began to speak timidly. His voice caught fire as words flowed from his lips. He droned on for some time before he invited another to speak about the life of his late wife. One eulogy flowed into the next. No one summoned Pauline or Johnson to speak. When they were the last two choices, one of the aunts paused in her remarks to glare down at Johnson.

“I invite Johnson to speak now on the life of his great aunt Millicent. I hope he won’t abuse the privilege.” At these words, a wave of nods traveled through the crowd with a few meaningful looks in Pauline’s direction.

Johnson shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile for Pauline. “Nothing I can do, cousin. I’ll have to be the last speaker.”

Though her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat, Pauline offered him a light smile and waved him toward the podium. When attention turned away from her, she allowed silent tears to fall, dabbing them away with the sleeve of her dress.

When everyone rose to accompany the body to the cemetery, she held back. Johnson had already joined the other pallbearers to attend the body in a reverent march from the front of the chapel to the hearse. No one spoke to Pauline or invited her to walk with them. The last to leave the chapel, she pulled the door closed with a final thump and no look back before crossing the dirt lot to her car.

~~

Despite being the last out of the chapel, Pauline arrived before the slow procession of cars kicked up clouds of dust on the narrow dirt road that circled the cemetery. She staked out a seat next to the newly turned earth. The aunts frowned at her and left an empty seat next to her. As Johnson helped lower the casket, he offered her a hint of a wink as he took the seat at her side.

The bereaved husband rose to speak again, offering his wife up to the soil from which she came. At the conclusion of his words, he produced a yellow envelope from his breast pocket. “I offer these parting words from my wife, Millicent, to the generation that followed her own.”

The aunts stood as one, taking slow measured steps to the approach the casket. The eldest reached fir the envelope examining the seal closely before showing it to the sisters and cousins who crowded around her.

She nodded her head slightly, waiting for a similar sign from the other before turning to address the assembled relatives. “Millicent’s seal remains unbroken.”

“Let her wishes be heard.” The gathered mourners echoed back.

The seal loosened with a slight flick of long, red nail. As a dozen eyes scanned the tight, cursive handwriting on the yellowed parchment, the women gasped. Some mouths hung open longer than others. All eyes turned to Pauline. Most of them narrowed; all looked speculative.

“Read it out.” Millie called out impatiently.

“Dearest family.” The eldest aunt paused to clear her throat before continuing. “I know you will all question my decision in your hearts and minds before you accept the wisdom in it. Our family needs new life and vitality breathed into it. We need a matriarch, a queen, who finds no shame in pursuing what she feels is best. Should she arrive for my funeral, to show her love and respect for our family, I feel that Pauline will grow into that woman.

“As I have faith that she will hear these words read, I name no other successor. To name someone else when I am so certain would only invite a division that our family could never survive. Please welcome Pauline back into the family and respect her and her decision as you have always respected me and mine.

“Love,

“Millicent Harding-Queen”

Silence followed as all eyes rolled back to Pauline. She stood slowly and approached her cousin. Millie leaned away, but her brother pushed her back toward Pauline. As Mille tried to turn her head away, Pauline gently pulled the hair combs loose, kissing her cousin gently on each cheek before pushing her own curls back from her face and placing the combs into place.

“Millicent’s wish is my wish. I ask your forgiveness, so I can be welcomed back into the family.” Her voice lowered as she spoke, but everyone nodded in acquiescence.

“To lead, I must follow.”  She spoke these words with more conviction.

As the funeral director gently lowered the casket into the ground, soft sobbing moved through the mourners. When the casket finally reached the bottom of the grave, two men in coveralls stepped forward to break down the lowering device. As the stepped back with the pieces, mourners stepped forward one by one. Each grabbed a handful of soil from the mound beside the grave and gently sprinkled it over the casket. When she finally stepped forward, Pauline allowed a few tears to mix with the handful of earth in her hand before sprinkling it over the coffin.

As she stepped back, the groundskeepers stepped forward again with long-handled shovels. The other mourners stepped back and began to disperse. The two men began shoveling mounds of dirt over the coffin without comment. The taller of the two men paused. He leaned a shovel against his legs and pulled up his shirt. His eyes scanned the receding crowd as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the tail of his shirt. Noticing that Pauline and Johnson still stood with bowed heads beside the grave, he resumed his work. Soon the mound of dirt covered the casket instead of the slightly wilted grass beside it. The two men patted the mound down and hurried away.

Johnson knelt next to grave, placing a hand in the loose soil. As he stood up, Pauline knelt beside him, whispering a few last words to her great aunt. Then she followed the lead of her cousin, placing one hand palm flat on the loose dirt. Johnson turned to go and she joined him, glancing over her shoulder. Her handprint waved back at her as she walked away and the weight of her family settled around her slender shoulders.