Secrets and Lies
Chapter 23
The day had closed in around them, shutting their miserable, melancholy and almost unbearably tense little group off from the rest of the world. The wind howled around the cemetery – baring its teeth to all who dared get in its way. The sky was gun metal in colour, suspended above them heavy and expectant. It was a dark and bitter day. It fitted the occasion perfectly. Late November in Chicago, and it felt for all the world like the weather was reflecting the emotions of those gathered around the isolated graveside.
The select few, with bowed heads, dressed all in black and blending into the dull background, fighting against the cold that cut through their layers and seared their bones. The priest spoke quickly – keen to get the formality over with and retreat inside, where at least it was warm. The mourners may have felt similarly, but they wanted the service over for completely different reasons.
Around the graveside, what few mourners there were for such a bitter isolated woman were each lost in their own thoughts. Each had a very different ache in their heart – not necessarily grief, but perhaps guilt, and maybe even anger.
It had been a tense 48 hours in the ER since Abby died. Sam stared fixedly into the middle distance, contemplating the blur in which the last two days had passed. Her gaze locked onto the trees she could see on the horizon, battered by the winds, and she barely heard the words. She was only here to make sure this actually happened. That this funeral was real, and that tomorrow she would wake up and Abby would be gone from her life forever.
She had barely had time to process Abby's death until this cold, lonely moment in the cemetery, and she was more determined than ever not to cry. Abby didn't deserve her tears, but yet they burned behind her eyes and she couldn't deny that. It was only as she had looked around her fellow mourners that she had realised that her heart was heavy, pounding deep in her chest with a brutally physical ache.
Deep down, she knew it was grief, but if she consciously gave it that name that gave Abby far too much influence over her emotions. That gave the dead woman back the power she'd had for five long years. Now that Sam was in possession of the truth, she was not going to let that happen. Abby had been a friend and a workmate – but the Abby that had been her friend had been a lie, a front, a façade. All the time she was on a self-destructive hiding to nothing, and determined to drag everyone else down with her. Sam allowed herself a long breath, any sound whipped away by the wind.
Her husband tightened his grip on her shoulder instinctively. She glanced up at him fleetingly. His pain was etched into the lines on his face. He had known Abby longer than anyone else gathered here, known her before the miscarriage and the devastating series of events that had followed. And, Sam thought, he'd never laid any blame. He hadn't held any hate. She couldn't understand that, couldn't fathom how he could let someone he had loved at one point in time go through all that and not be mad at someone. But Luka had expended a whole lifetimes worth of anger already, and he had known it wouldn't help. Such was the maturity that came with unbearable tragedy.
On her other side, one slightly trembling gloved hand tightly in her own, was Neela. Sam could see the way Susan's eyes were locked onto Neela, burning into her with a barely restrained hatred but she just held on tighter. Someone had to save Neela from herself, stop her falling apart, and that someone had been Sam. Neela was bowed, broken and guilt ridden. Sam firmly held onto her belief that Neela was a good person in a bad situation.
And Ray. She flicked him a cursory glance. He was a lonely figure, standing slightly separate, hands haphazardly in his pockets. She supposed it was his pain that was the rawest of all. He hadn't just had to deal with Abby dying and all the undoubtedly horrible memories that dragged up, but with the revelation of a 5-year-old child he knew nothing about. She frowned momentarily, thinking of her last words to him, considering them now unnecessarily harsh. He'd grown up in the last few years – losing a baby will do that to anyone – and she realised that what she felt when she looked at him was no longer hate.
Whatever happened 5 years ago, whatever terms the two had parted on – there was child involved now. Sam felt Luka begin to move, and automatically her legs began to follow. Mina would always have to come above either of them now, and Sam knew she had to play her part. She had to apologise, whatever blow that might cause her pride. Neela had done a great job by herself, but she knew what it was to be single mother, and it only got harder. She'd need him around, even if she didn't know it.
Susan had moved quickly, and was now blocking the threesomes' path from the graveside, an immoveable presence. Sam sighed, tensed her shoulders. Luka's hand dropped away. Susan's denial about the whole situation was infuriating. Her righteousness had grated on Sam's nerves over the last two days. She had been callous, cruel and judgemental and there had been so many moments that Sam had wanted to smack her. Susan didn't know what had really gone on – she was still working with half a story, and Sam knew only too well how much hurt that could cause.
The blue eyes looked fit to bore a hole right through the former intern, and Sam didn't know how much Neela could take today. She braced herself to intervene. Susan might just be about to step on her last nerve, and she was in no mood to let that lie today. The secrets and lies – it was about time they stopped for good.
"What are you doing here?" Susan challenged angrily. "Haven't you done enough?"
Neela bit back tears. Everyone around heard the angry words, cutting through the raging wind and weather.
"Susan - " His voice this time. Susan wheeled and cut across him.
"Don't get me started on you. Just don't." Susan continued bitterly, alternating her gaze between Neela and Ray. "After all you did to Abby. Are the two of you satisfied? She died because of what you did."
Susan broke off, choked back a sob, but it was clear her rant was unfinished. The small gathering remained, still and silent.
"She needed you! Both of you. And where were you? Screwing around behind her back." The words tore through the air, painfully audible even over the wind. "What did she ever do to deserve that?"
The blonde finished defiantly, folding her arms across her chest.
"That's it. Susan, I've had enough." Sam interjected viciously. "Enough of the St Abby card."
She threw up her hands, gave an exasperated sigh. Luka backed down from initial attempts to stop her interfering, and stood mute on the sidelines.
"Are you really naïve enough to believe Abby was blameless?" Sam continued.
"Abby did - "
"Nothing wrong? Spare me, Susan." Sam turned instead to him; standing hunched as if he wished the ground would just open up and swallow him.
"Are you going to tell her or am I?" She challenged. He said nothing, struck dumb apparently.
"Fine! I'll do it. There's a key piece of information you're missing about your best friend, Dr Lewis."
There was long silence, in which Sam's sarcasm hung between the funeral party, heavy and fetid in the air.
"Did you know she wasn't planning on keeping that baby any road?" Susan's mouth gaped as if she wanted to say something, but Sam's reflexes were the quicker.
"Really. She was going to have an abortion – and she was going to do it behind his back," She exchanged a glance with him – seeing their argument clearly in her minds eye.
"I fully accept that what they did was wrong. But please, don't walk away from this thinking Abby is blameless, because she isn't." Susan's jaw was practically on the floor. Neela was crying, silent tears. Luka and Ray just looked on – the former in shock, the latter in a stunned disbelief.
"And Susan, she died because she was an alcoholic – and that was no one's fault but her own." Sam finished with a bitter flourish, turned on her heel and walked away before Susan could fully process the information.
"Come on, Susan. Let's go." Chuck put an arm around his wife's shoulders, guided her from the scene gently, leaving the three remaining mourners in a shocked silence.