Author's Note: This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and sorry for again taking what I had initially planned to be short story, and making a damn production out of it. Blast my natural loquaciousness! (Not even sure if that's a word, but Microsoft Word didn't underline it in red, so I'm keeping it!)
-ck
Chapter Eleven
The funeral the next day was held at eleven, with the meal scheduled afterward in the adjoining fellowship hall. As the ground was still partially frozen in the small cemetery where Rick was to be buried, there would be no interment; the funeral home, prepared for this contingency in the northern portion of a cold climate state, had a refrigerated morgue on site. Marion, Constance, and Rick's brother Matthew, who also lived nearby, had already planned to gather in early May for Rick's eventual burial. Any other family who was available had also been invited, although most had already declined.
McCormick hadn't been surprised. He himself didn't like the idea of an extended mourning period, and murmured his opinion to the judge as they sat in the church. "I know it's cold up here, but the ground's not frozen solid, is it? You're telling me they couldn't use a backhoe to dig a hole in the cemetery?"
"Probably," Milt whispered back, "but they might have had to use some special warming device ahead of time, and that would have been more expensive. Anyway, it was Marion's choice." He nodded at the woman sitting in the pew in front of them. Marion was speaking quietly to Warren, her hand resting on her daughter's arm. Warren nodded back silently, and then her body shook with an obvious sob. Marion's arm moved to encircle Warren's shoulders, and she pulled her daughter into a brief hug. When Warren moved away, she was wiping at her eyes and nose.
Milt reached to grab his handkerchief, but had barely pulled it from his jacket pocket before McCormick was touching Warren gently on the shoulder. "Here," he said, offering the young woman an elegant patterned handkerchief that complemented his dark suit jacket. Warren took Mark's handkerchief with a watery smile, then turned around again toward the front of the church.
McCormick also studied the front of the church, not turning to look at the judge, even though he knew the man was staring at him. Mark did cast a sidelong glance at his friend. "I hope you noticed there was not a shred of lace on that hanky," he said softly, smirking.
As they were at a funeral, Milt bit his tongue to keep from laughing.
ooOoo
McCormick settled by Aunt Zora with his second plate of food, trying to ignore the woman's slightly jealous expression. After all, he had noticed both sisters commenting on how tasty the pasta salad was, so he didn't think he would get openly admonished for enjoying the catered lunch.
"I think I'm getting them all straight now," Mark said between bites. "Connie and Russ are easy, because I met them already." He pointed with his fork at a table several feet away, where Constance and Russ were seated, with Marion in between them. Marion and Constance seemed to be talking conspiratorially. The position of the two women's heads, tipped toward each other, reminded McCormick of Zora and May.
After another bite, Mark nodded at a slightly closer table. "That's Earl and Matthew, and that woman in the grey and white, is that the other sister, or Matthew's wife?"
May sat down, holding a small plate with a lemon square and a brownie on it. "Oh, where did you find those?" Mark asked. "I didn't get to the desserts yet." He twisted around on his chair.
May placed the plate in front of him. "They're yours, dear." Mark began to protest, but she remained firm. "I'm too full, anyway. I just took them because the deserts were getting low. That seems to be the only thing the children are eating." She shook her head disapprovingly. "And the woman in the grey and white is Matthew's wife Winnie. Rick's other sister is up at the buffet line." McCormick turned around again to look. "The one at the coffee station," May elaborated. "That's Francis."
McCormick turned back to his food. He took a drink of coffee, then started to tick the siblings off on his fingers. "Okay. Russ. Earl. Rick. Matthew. Francis. Gregory. Connie. And James is the one who died in the car accident." He considered his tally. "That's eight. Did I get them all right?"
"Very good, Mark," Zora complemented him. "And in such a short time!" May agreed.
Mark laughed. "Just don't ask me to name all their kids and grandkids." He bit into the lemon square and moaned in delight, then looked guiltily at the Aunts. "Sorry, but they're really good."
Milt came to sit in their group, holding a fresh cup of coffee and a desert plate. McCormick assessed his choices and coveted the older man's lemon square, even though he hadn't yet finished his own. Hardcastle saw the what the eager eyes were pointed at, and with a sigh, added his lemon square to McCormick's plate.
Mark had finished both lemon desserts and was starting on the brownie when he heard May and Zora whispering to each other. Trying to focus on the words, he picked out "Warren" and "Evelyn." Raising his head to gaze at what had caught the Aunts' attention, he saw Warren standing off the side of the buffet line, speaking to Perfect Evelyn. Even from a distance McCormick could see Warren's uneasy posture, and Evelyn's haughty expression. "Oh, jeez, she's at it again," Hardcastle muttered.
"At what again?" McCormick washed down the bite of brownie with another drink of coffee, not taking his eyes off the two young women.
The judge grumbled softly. "Remember I told you Warren's cousins get on her case about her not being married or having kids? Evelyn's kinda the ringleader. Probably a good thing her and Warren don't see each other much."
Mark drained his coffee, then pushed away from the table. "I'll be right back," he said.
Hardcastle reached out, snagging Mark by his elbow. "What are you doing, McCormick?" he asked apprehensively. Mark shook off his hand. "I've got this. Don't worry."
As Milt watched the young man walk away, he snorted derisively. "Don't worry, he says. Like I have a choice."
ooOoo
Mark strode up purposefully behind Warren, and without preamble, looped an arm around her waist. He next pecked her cheek. "Hey, babe, I was looking for you." Keeping his arm tightly around Warren's suddenly tense body, he smiled at Evelyn. "I don't think I've met you yet. You're Warren's cousin . . . Eunice?"
"It's Evelyn," the woman corrected Mark through gritted teeth. At the same moment, Warren fought back a laugh.
"Oh, Evelyn. Sorry about that." Mark's smile didn't diminish. He held out the hand that wasn't around Warren's waist. "I'm Mark McCormick. Warren's boyfriend."
Evelyn cautiously took Mark's hand, and he pumped hers firmly. "Boyfriend?" she echoed, the doubt clear in her voice.
"Yup. Over three months now. You want to tell Evie how we met?" He beamed at Warren, who looked back blankly, her eyes somewhat wide. McCormick shrugged, still smiling happily. "Okay, I'll tell it." He turned back to Evelyn. "It was a New Year's Eve party. Warren was there with this jerk – who was it, hon? – Max, that's it. He had gotten wasted, and he was – well, he was being an ass. Anyway, there was no way he could drive, and I didn't think Warren should have to wait around for a cab. I mean, it was New Year's Eve, in L.A.! She would've been stuck waiting until the next year!" He laughed heartily at his bad joke.
"So I offered to drive her home, and we hit it off right away. Spent the whole night talking, well into the morning. She broke it off with Max, and here we are." He pulled Warren against him, leaning down, and this time the kiss was anything but chaste. He eased his hand down Warren's back and squeezed her rear, making sure the gesture was well within Evelyn's view.
Warren broke the kiss by pushing Mark away gently – much more gently than he had expected. Her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling, and McCormick felt the sudden thrill of a successful con. He left his arm loosely around her waist and gazed in her eyes, then completed their fake origin story. "You could say Warren and I were each other's New Year's Resolutions," he said huskily.
Warren held his gaze, and the two looked at each other for several moments until Evelyn cleared her throat. McCormick snapped his attention back to Warren's cousin. She was now regarding the couple with a look that Mark could only describe as jealously. The thrill increased.
"Well, Warren," Evelyn said, smiling tightly, "you've been holding out on me."
"I have." Warren nodded. "I'm sorry, Evelyn. I didn't want to draw attention away from why we're here. But try telling this guy." She smacked Mark's arm lightly. "Although I have to admit he's been a welcome distraction." Warren grasped Mark's hand and squeezed it, her eyes dancing as she smiled up at him.
"So. . . three months." Evelyn looked between Mark and Warren. "That's a big deal for you, Warren." Her tone verged on condescending. Mark's eyes narrowed slightly, and he decided as long as he'd gone this far, he might as well go a little further. "Eve, can you keep a secret?" he asked in a whisper. "We've talked about making our relationship official. I have to get enough scratch together to buy her a decent ring first, so we haven't really told anyone, but hey, you're family." He held his finger in front of his lips. "Keep it to yourself though, okay Evie?"
"Evelyn," the woman again corrected him, her voice icy.
"Sorry," Mark said, not sorry at all. "That's a great name, too. Warren and I have been talking a little about names, you know, for when that happens." He reached with his hand that was encircling Warren, and patted at her flat stomach. "We agreed that Warren gets to pick the girl names, and I pick the boys'. I'm really hoping for a boy first – I've got the perfect name." He leaned closer, as if in confidence, and raised his eyebrows.
Evelyn backed away, but McCormick's engaged face was too much for her curiosity to bear. "Well?" she asked impatiently.
"Yes, Mark," Warren said, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Tell her."
McCormick grinned. "Quentin."
Warren began to cough violently. Mark thumped her on the back. "Hey, you okay, babe?" She nodded, still coughing and unable to talk. Her eyes were watering, and she had her hands pressed in front of her mouth. Mark looked apologetically at Evelyn. "I better make sure she's all right. Talk to you later Eve, okay?" He took Warren by the arm and drew her away from Evelyn, back to a small alcove near the restrooms. "Are you all right?" he asked her sincerely. "Do you need me to get you some water?"
Warren took her hands away from her mouth and burst out laughing. She gasped, coughed some more, and then was finally able to talk. "Oh, God. Oh, God, Mark. Quentin. That –" she coughed again "– that was brilliant!"
McCormick's grin was pretty brilliant as well. "Yeah? I wasn't sure what you'd think about that little routine. I just figured you deserved some payback."
"I wasn't sure at first either," Warren admitted, "until I saw her face. Mark, that was perfect. I loved it. But you must realize, you're stuck now." She looked candidly at McCormick. "Any and all of my family functions, you are now required to attend. And the next time I see Evelyn, I want there to be a ring on this hand." She wiggled the fingers of her left hand at Mark. Then, still laughing, she walked back into the main area of the hall. Mark watched her depart, his grin now replaced with a disgruntled scowl.
"How in the hell did that happen?" he muttered.
Hardcastle and McCormick's flight home left within an hour of the Aunts' flight back to Arkansas, requiring only one trip to the airport. So the next morning found the four of them saying their collective goodbyes to Marion and Warren. The younger Wyngate woman had indeed decided to stay a little longer in Minnesota. She gave the judge a hug, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'll be back in California in a few weeks or so, after we bury Dad," she said. "I already called Val and she said she can stop by to take in my mail and keep an eye on everything."
Milt waved it off. "Don't worry about it. McCormick and I can make sure your place is taken care of. You come back when you're ready." He again embraced his niece.
When the judge stepped back, the young woman turned to Mark. He eyed her uneasily, then abruptly stuck his hand out. "See you later, Warren."
Warren looked at the extended hand and shook her head with a wry grin. Grabbing Mark's hand, she pulled him down toward her and threw her arms around his neck. "I think I might really miss you, Mark," she said, and then laughed at the surprise in the deep blue eyes. "I wasn't kidding yesterday when I said you were a welcome distraction." She kissed him on the cheek. "Stay out of trouble, okay? And feel free to borrow any of my books." This last bit was said in a whisper, accompanied by a wink.
If McCormick was surprised by Warren's words, Marion's farewell stymied him even more. She briefly drew Mark aside from the group, and pressed a small folded envelope in his hand. "Don't let Milt know you have this," she directed quietly. "At least, not until you're well on your way home. By that time he won't be able to do anything about it. Or he won't bother to try."
McCormick obediently shoved the envelope into his jeans pocket, then accepted an affectionate hug from the woman. When they parted he was aware of a lump in his throat. He didn't have any vague thoughts, like Warren's, that he "might" miss the judge's sister – he knew he was going to miss Marion Wyngate. He made a mental note to use that fact to convince Hardcastle to visit more often. Hopefully it wouldn't backfire, like when he had "rescued" Warren from Perfect Evelyn.
Mark was volunteered to cart the luggage to the rental car. After depositing the luggage in the trunk and waving a final goodbye to Warren and Marion, Mark seated himself behind the steering wheel. He watched from the car as the goodbyes continued: the Aunts hugging Marion and Warren, Hardcastle embracing his sister. McCormick felt a slight surge of envy. Not for the first time, he pondered what it would've been like to have a sibling.
On the heels of that rumination came another, unbidden but also inescapable: I might have a sibling. A half-sibling, anyway. With a guy like Sonny as a father, I could have more than one half-sibling out there. He wondered if he'd ever find out. He wondered if Sonny would even know.
Mark shook off the distracting thoughts, and returned to his earlier lament. Possibly having a long-lost sibling – somewhere – wasn't the same as growing up with a sister or brother. He would've even taken a brother like Gerry. For all of his numerous vocal complaints about his younger brother, it was still obvious that Milt had a definite bond with Gerald Hardcastle. The two might not be bosom brothers, but they had grown up together, living in close quarters, sharing adventures and making memories. That was bound to make two individuals close. Hell, it had worked with me and Hardcase.
Gerald Hardcastle had finally called last night, apologizing for not making it to the funeral. He hadn't made an excuse, only saying that his absence had been unavoidable, but that he would get to Minnesota to visit as soon as he was able. Gerald had spoken briefly with everyone in residence (Milt had made sure of this, as the long-distance call had been on his brother's dime), and then the three siblings had enjoyed a "conference call," with Marion and Milt on separate extensions. There had been joking and loud laughter, something McCormick had not expected, especially knowing how Hardcastle could get tense and upset when his younger brother's name was brought up in casual conversation. But after the hour-long phone call had ended, the judge had been chuckling and smiling, and his good mood had lasted for the rest of the night.
Hardcastle and McCormick parted ways with the Aunts at the airport, leaving them to their drinks in the airport bar. The two men arrived at the gate for their flight home with barely ten minutes to spare. The retired judge and the ex-con had been on the plane for close to an hour before Mark remembered the envelope Marion had given him. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled envelope, sliding his finger under the flap and tearing it open. Inside was a hand-written note. Mark read it quietly with a steadily growing smile.
Hardcastle had been leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, but he had felt McCormick's movement, and was now looking at the paper the young man was reading. "What's that?" he muttered, noticing his friend's grin.
"Oh, just a note." Mark held the small piece of paper off to the side, away from the judge. "Something that you might complain about. Although I'll bet it'll be just a lot of hot air. You know, to keep up appearances."
"What are you going on about?" Hardcastle reached for the paper, stretching his arm across Mark's body. "Where'd you get that, anyway?"
"Marion. And she said I wasn't supposed to show you." Mark shook his head in mock sadness. "She's gonna be disappointed in me."
"Yeah, well, you're not living with her." Milt again reached for the paper. "Give me that, or you're going to have to worry about more than 'disappointment' when we get home!"
McCormick relinquished the paper with a resigned sigh. Then he watched in amused expectation as the judge read the date and airline information that indicated Constance's upcoming visit to California.
Milt read and re-read his sister's neat handwriting. "What is this? Who did this? You?" he glared suspiciously at McCormick.
"Don't look at me, Kemosabe. I think your sister and Connie put this little surprise together."
Hardcastle just shook his head. "June. She's coming to California in June."
Mark leaned back in his own seat with a satisfied smile.
"I guess she's coming to visit for Flag Day."
END
