4. Family Crises
Evelyn slid into the front pew and took three deep, calming breaths before noticing that in the meantime, someone had sat beside her. She looked over to find Father Imhotep had joined her, and she threw her arms around him.
"Father Imhotep!" she cried. "Oh, it has been too long!"
"I agree, Evelyn," he said, chuckling at her enthusiasm. "How is it you never found the time to come home to visit your friends in four long years?"
"I might ask the same of you, Father. Often I would read your letters when I was homesick for New Verona. They were much appreciated."
Imhotep sat back, scrutinizing the smiling young woman. Four years had certainly changed her, she was no longer the withdrawn, ungainly teenager she had once been. From her correspondence Imhotep had certainly been aware of the change, but seeing her now after so much time was still a shock. The grown-up Evelyn had the bearing of a queen. "You look just like your mother," he said, before he could stop himself.
Evelyn sat back in the pew, staring at her hands. "I understand you performed the eulogy. Lock said it was beautiful."
"I only tried to do your mother justice." Imhotep blinked back a tear and cleared his throat before continuing. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"You don't have to be okay yet, Evelyn. It's perfectly normal to feel..."
She took another deep breath. "Like your life's been ripped in two?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Do you think she felt anything?"
It was a question he would do anything to avoid thinking about, let alone answering, but Evelyn needed closure, and if this conversation would help her... "The coroner..." he began, then had to clear his throat again. "The coroner said she died of smoke inhalation. It was quick."
Evelyn wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't think of a more horrible way to die. Trapped, like that."
"We can comfort ourselves with the fact that she's in a better place."
"How do you know that?"
"Sometimes..." Imhotep shrugged. "You just have to believe."
The tears came faster now, and Evelyn could not hold them back. "I'm scared for her. I'm scared of where she is. You can't tell me you know for sure she's okay. You don't know if she's at peace, or if she's in pain. And there's nothing we can do for her. There's no way to know, or to...bring her back."
She tipped her head back to contemplate the ceiling. After literally decades of restoration, the temple was probably the most beautiful building in the capital. The ceiling glittered with gold-plated frescoes that hovered above the parishioners as if they guarded the secrets of heaven. Osiris was the main deity pictured, but around him his fellow gods floated in seas of red, black and gold, accompanied by the occasional divinely inspired king. Evelyn had not seen the ceiling since it had been completed, and its splendor nearly took her breath away.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Imhotep said. "Whenever I feel low, I come in here and sit, and I look up...and suddenly anything seems possible."
Anything seems possible. "Father Imhotep, I have a question."
"Fire away."
"How do you know if you're in love?"
Imhotep groaned. "Popular topic today."
"What?"
"Nothing. Why do you ask?"
Despite the lump in her throat, Evelyn smiled. Indeed, what right did a princess have to think of love? Was it not her duty to marry the rich son of a duke and produce heirs and stand timidly by his side for the rest of her life? No matter that she had a mind of her own, a college education, and a simple thirst just to be loved by someone who did not know of her title. "Why else would one ask that question, Father?"
"Have you met someone?"
Evelyn bit her lip, wondering how she should answer. "Yes. No. Sort of. Not really. Sort of."
Imhotep's face held a mixture of disgust and horror. "It's not...it's not Beni Parris, is it?"
"No! I have not even seen the man."
"Avoid it at all costs. He's insufferable."
Evelyn couldn't help but laugh at her friend's teasing, and somehow the simple act eased her soul a bit. It had been too long since she'd truly laughed.
Rick eyed his reflection in the mirror critically. Ardeth had come up with some pretty outrageous get-ups before, but this was ridiculous. It was a fairly normal suit, but it was sewn entirely from white fabric, barring the silver accents around the lapel and pockets. Rick knew the party was a masque, but come on...
"You don't really expect me to wear this, do you?" he asked his friend, who stood in the doorway.
"It's a costume party!" said Ardeth. "We've got to blend in. I've got a mask for you, too."
"And what, may I ask, are you going to be wearing?"
Ardeth produced a hanger from behind his back, upon which hung another suit. It was significantly brighter than Rick's costume, and a touch more flamboyantly designed. "Orange. And I got all the boys powder blue."
"I see. Maybe I'm lucky I got the white."
A new voice intruded on the conversation, cold and biting. "I think you look just smashing."
Rick did not have to turn around to recognize the voice. He should know his own father, shouldn't he? Or at least, that's what he had always believed. A father and son should be close, they should be friends, they should depend on each other...or so Rick had read. His own relationship with Jonathan Montague was something less than what was supposed to be perfect.
"I'll just, uh, leave you two to..." Ardeth trailed off, and Rick knew his friend had left. He heard the click of the door as his father closed it behind him, and they were alone.
"Where the hell have you been?" Jonathan asked, and Rick finally turned to meet his eyes. Though both would have liked to look away, both had pride, and neither wanted to lose a staring contest. "Your mother and I have been worried sick."
"She's not my mother, stop pretending she is. I doubt she'd know if I was dead."
"And what if you were?" Jonathan began to pace, though he kept eye contact with his son. "Your luck's going to run out one of these days and we're going to find you dead in a gutter somewhere."
"What do you care?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, Rick knew it was a mistake, but he decided to press forward anyway. "You have no idea who I am."
"You're my son, and I know what's best for you."
"Maybe if you'd taken the time to be my father, you'd know I don't need you to make those decisions for me."
The words stung Jonathan, though he'd had many years of practice in the political arena and could easily hide his hurt. Whatever truth there was to his son's statement, however, his pride told him that an equal amount of blame lay in Rick's lap. "And what of you? You have a responsibility to your family, you know. You can't just go out drinking every night and slack off every day and expect us to pick up the tab every time you get thrown in jail."
Gods, the man was infuriating! How was it possible that they were related? "Seems to be working so far," Rick snapped. "Besides, I pay my own way. I have a job. Or haven't you noticed?"
"Yes, actually, I did know that. And your supervisor told me yesterday that unless you clean up your act, he's going to have to fire you."
"He's lying."
Jonathan's slap came and went in an instant, though the sound of it rung in their ears for hours afterward. Rick's skin stung with the impact, and finally was forced to forfeit the staring contest.
"Do not deceive me," Jonathan said, taking a step forward so that he was almost in his son's face. "You will do whatever it takes to shape up, or you are out on the street, do you hear me? I've gotten you a different job, working with Senator Shepard. It'll keep you busy, and when it doesn't, you are not to be out drinking, partying, or otherwise carousing. Tell your little gang that any more of those Capulet boys get hurt, I'm holding you personally responsible. You can keep the apartment, but I expect it to be clean, well-cared for, and empty of bad influences. Do you understand?"
"I'm twenty-five years old. I can take care of myself."
"You are also the heir to the most influential dynasty in the country. You have more power now, when you are nothing and nobody, than the king himself has. If you do not get your act together, marry, have children, you will single-handedly bring down the most powerful empire this state has seen since the time of the gods." Jonathan took a step back. "You have a choice. Wreck your country, or be responsible for once in your life. What's it going to be?"
Rick knew enough not to answer, or else something would come out of his mouth that he knew both of them would regret.
As Jonathan turned and stalked from the room, he couldn't have known that he would never speak to his son again. Otherwise, he might have taken a little more care with their last conversation.
~*~*~*~
The Buffster enjoys reviews of any stripe. Please leave one. :)
