Opposites Attract
Opposites 9: Home is Where the Heart Is
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.
A/N:
Big thanks to ARedheadThing and ETheHunter. They are the North to my South and the pierced jalepeƱo in my butternut squash soup. I heart them. A lot.
Thanks again for reading. See you at the bottom...
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The following day dawned to delicious shrimp and cheese grits with Octavia's amazing coffee. They finished breakfast and made themselves scarce so that the housekeeper could finish getting ready for the open house after the funeral. Tray took some time to check in with Terry and Sam, making sure everything was running smoothly in Bon Temps, while Amelia went to finish getting ready.
When she finished, they sat in the living room watching the History Channel and talked about whether or not he should ride home with his relatives that afternoon. They decided he didn't need to leave her his Jeep since she had her father's BMW to drive, so he didn't need to leave with them. There was more of that conversation that needed to take place, like exactly when did he need to return home, and when would she be heading back, but neither were ready to have that talk with the funeral still heavy on their minds.
Alcide arrived around 10 a.m. to drive them over to Shoen Funeral Home on Canal. There would be no internment or graveside service; her father had chosen to be cremated, which wasn't a surprise to her. She'd watched news coverage of Hurricane Katrina with her father from a posh hotel suite in New York City when he told her his plans for his remains.
"See that?" he said, pointing his favorite Cross pen at the television. "That's repulsive. I already told Damon Cataliades I would be cremated." He shook his head. "Ya'll will never find my coffin floating through a cemetery if Mother Nature unleashes herself on the city again." She had nodded and murmured her understanding but as the images on the television changed to looters in the Quarter he launched into a tirade about that.
For the funeral she wore a simple black dress with pearls and some kind of heels that Tray noticed had red soles. He'd never seen the shoes before and they made her legs look amazing. He kind of hoped that she'd bring them back to Bon Temps with her, and the felt like an ass for thinking about that in the funeral home.
"Come here," she said with a small smile. "Your tie is crooked."
"God, I hate these things." It was knotted tightly, and he had been tugging, at it which probably left it cockeyed. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize." She shook her head as she loosened his tie just a little and straightened it. "You look good."
"No, you look good." He kissed her forehead.
"We both look good," she smiled.
"Nah, you make me look good."
It was both a sweet and odd interaction to have in the funeral home, but it made her laugh and took her mind off of what they were there for.
He wore a black suit that he told her he'd bought when his cousin Mel's daughter died of cancer the year before. She was a little sad that the first time she saw him in a suit was for her father's funeral, but she couldn't really think of many occasions when he would need to wear one. She smiled at him again, feeling overwhelmingly glad that he was there with her.
The lawyer met them at there, having taken care of most of the details himself anyway. The funeral director told them what to expect over the next several hours. Her father had requested the funeral service to take place directly following a short visitation, then the mourners were to return to his home for a meal. He described the service and frowned slightly when she said she wouldn't be giving the reading her father had wanted her to. Tray quietly asked that the Priest read it for her and the man nodded. Tray kept his arm around her as they spoke, and she didn't try to pretend that she wasn't leaning against him.
Octavia and Callisto were the first mourners to arrive, followed by any number of men from Carmichael Oil and its affiliates. Amelia had been overwhelmed by the number of people who turned out but saddened that most of them were employees or business associates. Sure, some of her father's friends from the country club came, those people whose children she'd gone to school with, but it was evident that her father's life had been predominately about business. Some of Amelia's old friends came themselves, Ginger, Portia, Sophie-Anne, Jake and the Crane triplets, Claude, Claudine and Claudette. They'd grown up together, at the best schools and in lessons at the club, tennis, golf, piano, all of the things good little rich kids are expected to do.
When it was already quite crowded, she saw a small group make their way into the back of the room. She smiled when she realized was Tray's family. His Uncle Cal and Cherise, Maria-Star and Crystal came in together, speaking in hushed voices as they signed the guest book and made their way toward Amelia to express their condolences. She hugged each one of them in turn, thanking them for coming, until she got to Cal, the last in the small line. He was the one she'd spent the least amount of time with, but the one whose presence meant the most to her. She felt his arms come around her and relaxed into them for a second. It was just long enough for her to let her guard down, and she found herself clutching his lapel, crying.
"Oh, girl," he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. "It's going to be alright. You've got family in all of us. We won't let nothing happen to you."
She nodded into his chest and felt Tray's hand on her back. Turning to him, she buried her face against him, taking deep breaths and willing the tears to stop.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You need a minute? We can step out of here."
She shook her head, knowing that leaving the room meant walking through the entire crowd of people, and she just couldn't do it. She took half a step back, staying in the circle of his arms, wiping her eyes. "Thank you. I'm not really sure what came over me."
He smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it."
She took a couple more deep breaths, then turned to continue greeting mourners. After what felt like an eternity, the Director whispered to her that it was time. Amelia and Tray were seated in the front row, and she looked around, feeling strange that they were in the row by themselves, but she knew that it wasn't appropriate to invite anyone to sit with them. It was sad really, an entire row on each side of the aisle with only two people to sit in them, and had she not met Tray it would have been just her. Her father's relatives from California hadn't even come; they were traveling in Europe and wouldn't have made it back in time if they'd tried.
A Priest from Christ Church Cathedral, who Amelia hadn't seen in years, presided over the service. She was glad that her father had someone to speak kind words about him, even if they were mostly because he'd donated large sums of money to the parish year after year. He told stories about her father's work on the church board and his donations to specific events or fundraisers. She halfway listened, automatically speaking the appropriate responses to the prayers with the group, functioning on a sort of autopilot as she stood to take communion. Then, she wasn't sure how much later, Tray squeezed her hand, and she heard the Priest's final words, "For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."
The Priest smiled and nodded at them and then walked down the aisle to and out of her sight. She exhaled, and it was loud in the quiet air around her. She liked the silence and didn't want to disturb it, so she sat still and didn't make a sound. Finally, Tray stood and thanked the mourners for coming and invited them to join her at the Carmichael home for a luncheon. She gazed at him, amazed at how he could adapt to any situation. She heard people moving behind her, talking quietly as they exited the room, but she remained sitting, just taking everything in. Tray squatted in front of her, his face filling her vision, and she blinked, the corner of her mouth lifting.
He reached forward and took her hand in his. "You ready? Alcide can ride with Uncle Cal if you just want me to drive us back."
She shook her head and pulled his hand towards her so he leaned forward, then he realized what she wanted and put his arms around her waist. She put her head on his shoulder for a few seconds, deeply breathing in his scent. It was slightly different than what she was used to because he'd used her soap instead of the usual Dial that he preferred at home. She sat back, wiping her face.
"Okay." She nodded. "Let's go back to the house."
He noticed that she didn't call it home and stood to take her hand, leading her out to the small lobby where his family waited. He expected the ride to be quiet, but she surprised him by talking most of the trip, explaining that the cook for the caterer they used was Octavia's cousin, and she was sure they'd enjoy the food. He thought it was a strange topic, but the mundane information seemed to be keeping her focused more on the present than the past.
The house was full when they arrived, and she was surprised how many people had come back for lunch, but understood when she saw that most of the gentlemen held glasses of amber liquor. They all knew her father drank nothing but the best, and she couldn't really blame them for raiding his liquor cabinet. A little, or maybe a lot, of alcohol was exactly what she needed.
Tray, however, disagreed with that idea, at least the a lot part. As she mingled with the mourners, he kept an eye on her and several times brought her glasses of water in between rounds of Jameson's, or whatever expensive whiskey father had decanted. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn't really blame her. He hadn't wanted to feel anything when his parents died either, but he also knew that she would be embarrassed later if she let herself get drunk at her father's memorial luncheon.
The house had begun to empty out, and he was surprised to see that the blonde bimbo, Ginger, was still sitting in the living room talking with Amelia and another one of their friends. Portia, he thought. He moved to stand near them and saw how tired Amelia looked, but she was nodding and laughing quietly about a story the other women were telling.
She met his eyes and gave him a small smile, then returned her attentions to her friends. When there was a lull in the conversation, Amelia asked quietly if his family was still around. He nodded, telling her they were in the kitchen with Octavia and Callisto.
Ginger looked up at him. "Is that who those people were? They looked a little out of place."
He tensed, but Amelia attacked.
"That was incredibly rude, Ginger. They're the only family I have left, and they were not out of place." She stood briskly and straightened her skirt. "It's been a long day. I think perhaps the luncheon is over."
Ginger sputtered like she had on her previous visit, and he kind of loved it when Amelia took her haughty tone with the woman, and the fact that she'd just referred to his family as her own was incredible on its own. He just didn't want her to burn bridges. He didn't want her to regret severing her ties in New Orleans later and blame him.
"Ladies, thank you for coming today. Amelia and I are exhausted." He waited for a few seconds, but neither of them made a move to stand so he angled his body, opening the way for them to leave. "I'll show you out."
Amelia sighed. He was a godsend. "Yes. Thanks for coming. I'm going to go make sure Octavia has everything under control, and then I think I'll take a nap."
Ginger finally stood and Portia followed suit. He wasn't sure that either of them understood why her comment had been offensive. His family hadn't looked out of place, but they were the only ones that didn't seem to know everyone else.
"Well, if ya'll are going to be in town, we should get together," Portia said quietly, and he appreciated it. She'd extended the invitation to both of them, which was more than he imagined Ginger would ever consider.
"I think Tray will head home soon while I sort out a few things here, but I'll call you." Amelia gave her a soft smile. "Thanks again." She turned and headed into the kitchen and let Tray walk them to the door.
When he joined her in the kitchen, she held a tumbler of something he was sure his Uncle Cal had poured her and had a mug of coffee in front of her as well. He poured a mug of coffee for himself before he took a seat next to Cherise. Exhaling, he rested his chin in his hand and looked around the table. The group looked back at him with tired eyes and small smiles.
Amelia took a sip of her drink. "Thanks, ya'll." She sighed. "We have plenty of food if ya'll want to stay for dinner."
"We need to head home, sweetie. But we wouldn't have been anywhere else today," Cherise said quietly.
"Yeah. Buck is watching the kids. We need to head home before someone burns the house down," Crystal joked.
"Oh, no!" Amelia laughed, imagining the high school boy watching Crystal and Maria-Star's children. One set alone was hard to handle, but all of their children together would be a nightmare. "Is he alone?"
"Well, Bo was supposed to help, but that doesn't mean much," Maria-Star smiled.
Alcide leaned over towards Octavia. "Is there any jambalaya from last night?"
"Of course, son. I could probably be talked into making you some fresh biscuits, too, if you play your cards right."
Amelia smiled at them. Octavia had probably been planning to make the biscuits anyway, but she was enjoying Alcide's attention. "Thank you, Octavia."
She waved her hand like it was no big deal and stood up from the table. "Now, these ladies here need some leftovers to take back. Won't be enough people here to eat it all before it goes bad."
They tried to tell her no, but she wouldn't hear it, and fifteen minutes later Tray's relatives were climbing into their cars with their arms full of plastic food containers. Tray and Amelia stood on the steps with Alcide, watching them go.
"Alcide, you know she'll pack some up for you. You don't have to stay," Amelia told him.
"You tired of me already?" he laughed. "I'm a single guy, and I live alone. Ya'll are good company. I think I'll stay a bit if you don't mind. It's been nice to see my family, although I'm sorry for the reason they all came down here."
"Well, alright then. Come on in. Sportscenter?"
"You know me already. Unless there's some People's Court on. Folks on that show are crazy."
"Oh my god," she laughed. "Are you sure you two aren't twins?"
"Hey, I watch Top Gear too," Tray said.
"Oh, yeah. That's a good show," Alcide agreed, and she laughed even harder.
"Ya'll fight over the remote. I'm taking a nap."
"You okay, baby?" Tray said quietly, immediately concerned.
"I'm fine. Just tired. We'll talk later about the rest of the week. When you need to head home and all that."
He nodded. "Okay. Sleep well."
He knew since the will wasn't being read for another two days that he'd need to go back to Bon Temps, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He and Alcide had already talked, and his cousin agreed to check in on her and drive her to the lawyer's office if she wanted him to.
A few hours later, they enjoyed their smorgasbord dinner of leftovers and Alcide was heading home with his own arms full of even more food. Octavia had fallen for his rakish charm and practically invited him to move in when Amelia returned to Bon Temps. Callisto was spending one more night with her mother, and they retired to Octavia's rooms when Alcide left, leaving Tray and Amelia alone in the main part of the house.
They sat together on the couch for a while, each comfortably tucked into a corner, with their legs intertwined in the middle. It was quiet, and the television was on, creating a low murmur of voices in the background that they weren't listening to. She sighed, loudly, then moved to lean against him in his corner of the couch. His arms automatically came around her, and he kissed her temple, knowing they had things to discuss.
"So," he said quietly. "They're reading the will the day after tomorrow?"
"Yeah," she said simply, but the word seemed to weigh her down.
"And then?"
She shook her head even though they weren't looking at each other. "I don't know. It all depends on what is in there. I think we can assume he hasn't left much to chance or left things that I'll need to take care of, but I don't know."
It was quiet again, and she played idly with the buttons on the front of his shirt. He didn't want to rush the conversation, letting her fidget and sigh until she spoke again. "When do you have to go home?"
"Depends on how long you need me here."
She sat up, twisting around to face him. "Do you have things you need to do?"
He shrugged. "I always do. But you're more important."
"Tray," she sighed, and she felt her eyes filling with tears. He overwhelmed her sometimes. He really was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
"Do you want me to stay? I can call Terry and see if one of his friends is around to help out."
She shook her head. "I want you to stay, but I can handle it on my own. It's just the will." She shook her head just a little. "I mean, unless there's a crazy surprise, I pretty much know how the money falls. He'll take care of Octavia and Mr. Chow, who does his landscaping, and maybe give some to the church, but the rest is mine. It's just the business stuff I don't know about."
"It's okay if you want me to stay," he said quietly. "I lost my parents too, Amelia. I remember how it felt. I don't want you going through that alone."
"I know, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. I want you to stay, but I don't need you to. And I think, really, if you go home it will make me finish things up down here faster so I can get back to you."
"Whatever you need," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.
They snuggled on the couch, kissing and holding each other for a few minutes until she sighed and laid her head on his chest again.
"There's something I need your help with before you go," she said quietly.
"Anything," he whispered back.
She sat up and looked at him seriously. "I need you to come into his office with me."
His eyes got a little bit wide. "Oh. Shit. Yeah. Are you sure you even want to go in there? Why don't you tell me what you need, and I'll go find it."
She smiled, but the sadness never left her eyes. "Thank you. But I think I'm going to have to go through a lot of things in there, even after you're gone. I kind of just want to take a look around while you're with me."
"Okay. Whenever you want to go in there."
"Now?" she asked, hesitantly, biting her lip.
"Of course."
She stood and reached for his hand, and they slowly walked to her father's office. She stopped in the doorway, taking a deep breath. Her father had been found on the floor in that room, unresponsive. He had officially died at the hospital, but it couldn't have been easy for her to cross that threshold.
"What can I do?"
"You can just sit on the couch," she said with a shrug. "I just couldn't come in here alone the first time."
He moved to the black leather couch and took a seat. The house was full of leather furniture, some of it a soft buttery suede, and other pieces, like this one, slick and cold and firmly stuffed. She moved to the far side of his desk and took a seat. He thought she looked small behind it, and she shook her head trying to adjust the height of the seat.
Pulling the chair up to the desk, she looked at the items that covered its surface. His favorite pens, a mechanical pencil and a three-hole punch. She ran her fingers down the edge of a leather portfolio and smiled. Her father had been old school. It would have been so much easier if he'd kept everything on his laptop, but she knew there was very little on there that would be of importance, or if it had come via the web he'd printed it out anyway, punched holes in it and filed it in one of his many binders. She opened the middle drawer and looked at the contents. Mints, paper clips, lip balm, extra pens and a highlighter. Nothing unusual. She glanced at Tray who was watching her, his arms on his knees and his hands steepled in front of him.
"I'll just be another minute. Thanks for doing this."
"I'm not doing anything, baby," he chuckled and stood to look at some pictures on a book shelf. They were school pictures and photos of her that she must sent her father from the trips abroad he'd sent her on. Amelia on the beach with an Italian flag. In front of Notre Dame and also Big Ben. He smiled at the picture of her in England, it was a trick shot, made to look like she was holding the clock tower in the palm of her hand. She came over to stand beside him and knew immediately what he was smiling at.
"He actually taught me how to do that."
He turned to look at her. "He did?" He was impressed. Her dad hadn't been involved in much of her life at all, yet he'd taught her how to take picture that was an optical illusion. It was kind of fitting, after he thought about it for a moment.
"It's not what you think," she sighed. "It was a lesson he tried to teach me. That not even photographic evidence could always be believed. Part of his 'trust no one' series. I heard it early an often."
He shook his head. "I am so sorry. I'm sorry for how he raised you, and I'm sorry he's gone."
"I feel really mixed up. Like I should be devastated, but I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to miss." She sighed as she continued to look at the other things on the shelves. "What's that?"
She reached for a moleskin notebook that was tucked behind one of the frames, almost hidden. It wouldn't have been seen if you weren't looking from the right angle. She opened it and flipped through a few pages, furrowing her brow in confusion. "This is like a journal."
From near the middle of the notebook she pulled out an old photograph of two women dressed in caps and gowns for graduation. He noticed that one of the women looked exactly like her. He held his breath a little, realizing it was a picture of her mother.
"Pam Ravenscroft?" she muttered, surprising him, even he knew who she was. Pam Ravenscroft was a sci-fi novelist who wrote about vampires and werewolves, and, after a second glance at the picture, he thought she could be right. Amelia turned the photograph over and stared at the back.
"It's her. With my mother. Look." She showed him the back of the print. There was a handwritten note that said For Cope. Love you! Liza, while printed across the bottom were the words Pam R. and Liza B. NYU Graduation.
"Your mother was friends with Pam Ravenscroft?"
"Apparently. But look, it says 'Love you!' Maybe Octavia was right; maybe they did love each other."
"There's only one way to find out."
"What's that?" She cocked her head. "How?"
"Find Pam. Talk to her."
She looked at the picture, wondering why, if her father had always had it, she'd never seen it before. Her eyes filled with tears. It was overwhelming, seeing her mother's picture, realizing that, finally, someone might tell her what the hell had happened between her parents.
"Do you think it's that easy?"
"It could be," he whispered, gathering her into his arms and holding her.
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A/N:
Um. So...a picture of her mother...with Pam? What could that mean? You'll just have to keep reading. And as always, this chapter has made me fall a little bit more in love with both Tray and Alcide. Hope it did the same for you too. :)
I love hearing what you think. Thanks again.
