.
(Red)
On the day of her father's funeral, she wore red. The color of anger, the color of blood. The color that she saw when she was trying to sleep, when she was eating, or showering, or sitting down doing nothing. Her father's blood, all over the floor, all over her hands.
The dress had once belonged to her mother; it was knee-length and conservative, with long sleeves and black buttons that ran from the neckline to the waist. Not what her mother would have wanted her to wear, but she was not aiming to honor the memory of her mother that day. That was the day she had decided to do things on her own and in her own way.
Three days had passed since her father's death, three days of cold silence from her sister, three days of nervous looks and false smiles from her aunt; three days of being treated like a child. The two women were together often speaking in hushed, sometimes urgent tones when they were in a hallway or when they thought they were alone. Christina always looked worried, Nina ever stoic, and both became silent when Anna made her presence known.
Anna grew tired of it. If no one was willing to share information with her, she was not about to share information with anyone. At one point, she had entertained the thought of telling Christina that Margaret was her father's killer. But as her aunt seemed to only put her trust in Nina, Anna made peace with the fact that she was on her own.
Anna opened the top drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her Glock 19. She pulled up her skirt and secured the gun in the holster wrapped around her leg. It was purely for protection, just in case something went wrong. She stood up, walked to the full-length mirror, and studied her image, the feel of the heavy metal against her inner thigh was strange but somehow comforting. It was a reminder that she was the only person she could rely on. She put on a pair of red pumps and slowly spun in front of the mirror. The gun was completely concealed.
Anna's plan was not what Nina or Richard would have called a plan; even she knew better than to call it a plan. All she knew was that she had to see Margaret and speak to her face to face. But no one knew where Margaret was, had not seen her in years. Although Anna hated to get Jenny involved, she had tasked her with finding information on Margaret. But it may have been easier to find a ghost. Everyone at school and at church had lost contact with Margaret after she moved to Germany with her mother. That had been shortly after the death of her brother, Robbie. Margaret's father, Thomas Callahan, lived in Dublin, he owned an accounting business. Anna's grand plan consisted of paying him a visit, perhaps asking for a job or an internship in his company. Maybe then she could find a way to see Margaret.
Anna tucked her long, brown hair behind her ears, took her purse from a hook on the wall, and left her bedroom.
She crossed the hallway and made her way down the stairs, then paused when she was almost at the bottom. Her back grew rigid at the sound of footsteps. She turned, her hand tight on the railing as she braced herself, expecting to see Margaret. She inhaled sharply, reminding herself that it couldn't be her. Her muscles relaxed when she saw Christina at the top of the stairs, she let go of the railing and walked down the last step.
"Are you and your sister ready?" Christina looked down at her hands as she pulled on her black, silk gloves.
Anna stood up straight, her hands clasping her purse. "I'm ready."
"I know it's still early but-" Christina stopped on the last stair, her mouth tight as she saw her niece.
"I kept some of my mother's clothes," Anna began before Christina could object. "This was hers and I just-"
"Anna, today is not the day to rebel." She stepped down and walked toward her. "We have to face this tragedy with dignity and-"
"I know, Auntie," Anna spoke softly, "I know what people will say, and I don't care."
"You can't be testing me already."
"I don't care what they think because they weren't there, they didn't see my father gasp his last breath, they didn't see his blood all over the floor, didn't feel it on their hands. I don't care what they think."
Christina took her hand. "Darling... How is wearing this going to-"
"I want whoever did this to us to know that we will not sit back, blend into the background, and be forgotten."
"Sometimes, it's best to let them think that."
"Why? Do you have a plan, do you even know who it was?"
"No." Christina looked pointedly at her, then her eyes softened. "I know it's frustrating, but please believe me when I say that Nina...that we are trying to protect you. Just please tell me that you're not going to go off on your own." Even though Christina couldn't see it, the metal against her thigh made her heartbeat accelerate. "Please tell me that you will be patient and I promise-"
Both women turned their heads at the sound of someone walking down the stairs. Viktor, Christina's boyfriend, had come from Vienna to give Christina his support and had been met with nothing but whispers and secrecy for his efforts. Anna didn't know how he could stand it.
Viktor looked at Anna, his face taking on a bemused expression. Christina gave a short nervous laugh then began to speak quickly in German as she gestured toward Anna.
"Your mother's dress?" Viktor smiled kindly as he took Christina's hand. He was in his mid-forties, tall, handsome, and dark-haired. "Everyone grieves in their own way. You look beautiful, Anna."
"Thank you."
The man had kind eyes and a genuine smile. He was utterly out of place in the Williams household.
Nina emerged from the hallway, dressed in drab black like everyone else. She looked at Anna with a piercing gaze, her jaw tight.
"I know it's early," Christina said quickly, undoubtedly trying to prevent a fight between Anna and Nina in front of Viktor. "But we should go. I need to make sure everything is perfect...and safe. Let's go, girls." She took Viktor's arm, and they made their way toward the exit.
"You look like a whore," Nina spat the first words she'd said to her since the day Richard had died.
Anna's fingers twitched, and her muscles tensed as she stopped herself from striking her sister. "This was our mother's dress."
Nina's jaw clenched, and her eyes bore into Anna's. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty for telling you what you need to hear?"
"I'm just trying to get you to talk to me."
Nina tore her gaze from Anna and stalked toward the door. Anna followed her out, then into the vehicle.
Inside the limousine, it was soul-crushingly quiet, but after three days of silence, what else could she expect? Even if Viktor wasn't there, Nina and Christina would have said nothing, revealed nothing about their plans or whatever leads they had. She had no choice but to go to Callahan and find information herself.
At the church, Anna's red dress drew every eye. She was a scarlet dot in a monochrome sea of black, a flame among moths.
She followed Christina and joined her, Nina, and Viktor at the front pew.
As she sat down and smoothed down her skirt, she had to stifle a laugh. A gun in a church. A red dress. What would her father think if he saw her?
But the feeling of dark amusement was quickly replaced by an ache in her throat and a heaviness in her chest. Her father couldn't see her, he was inside the dark mahogany casket beneath the altar, covered in an excessive amount of white lily arrangements. He would have hated it. Anna imagined him at home pacing in front of the fireplace, shaking his head and grumbling about the two-faced mourners who had never known him in life. She imagined him pouring himself a glass of bourbon after his rant, then growing quiet and sitting in his favorite armchair as he sipped from his glass.
It will never happen again. He will never be there again.
The image of her father dying in the library formed in her mind's eye before she could stop it. She looked down at her hands when she felt the warm, red fluid coating them. She turned her palms upward and saw that they were clean. She clasped them in front of her stomach and focused on the scene before her. She tried to focus on what the Father O'Malley was saying, on the meaningless rituals, but it was no use. She saw her father's bodyguard dead on the floor, then Margaret's wide, green eyes. The priest spoke, and everyone answered in unison, their voices sounded like bees buzzing, and she had the urge to cover her ears to tune them out. She focused on the casket again.
Dead and gone, never coming back. Gone.
After mass, they followed the pallbearers carrying the casket out of the church and watched as it was placed inside the hearse. Then, she was back in the limo, on the way to the cemetery.
"I'm proud of you, girls," Christina gave them a sad smile. "You are the picture of dignity and grace; no tears."
No tears, what an accomplishment.
As before, they were enveloped in complete silence for the entirety of the drive.
What were they thinking? What were they planning? What did they know? Anna asked herself those questions again and again until her brain felt numb. Her head started to throb, and she had the urge to open the door and jump out of the vehicle, to run until her legs couldn't carry her anymore.
When the limo stopped, she stepped out without waiting for anyone, ready to walk away, but Christina took her hand before she could move.
"We walk together." The look in her eyes was pleading as if she were asking her not to make a scene.
Anna sighed and stood next to her as they waited for Nina and Viktor to exit the vehicle. It wasn't that Anna cared what anyone thought if they saw her walk away from her own father's funeral, but he was going to be buried next to her mother. If her mother were there instead of Christina, what would she think if she watched her walk away? She had disrespected her and her memory enough for one day. And it had been so long since she'd seen her.
They walked to the gravesite along with Father O'Malley and the so-called mourners. If they knew the type of person Richard really was, would they still be there?
"Anna." She turned and saw Jenny walking next to her. "Sorry I didn't wear black; you know all I have is denim and neon."
Anna allowed herself a small smile as she took Jenny's hand. "I'm glad you didn't."
For a moment, she wished that Jenny had stayed away. Seeing her made her want to pour her heart out, cry and scream. It made her want to behave like the orphaned seventeen-year-old that she was. Made her want to forgo all the dignity and grace that was so important to a Williams. But she held her composure.
Having Jenny by her side made everything bearable. She saw that her mother's grave was covered in fresh, white lilies. It made Anna's heart swell and hurt at the same time. Her aunt had more respect for her mother than she did. She couldn't even remember the last time that she had visited her mother's grave.
As Father O'Malley said the final prayer over her father's casket, Anna looked to her right wanting to touch Nina, to at least elicit a look from her. At their mother's funeral, Nina had been holding her hand and giving her reassuring looks and sad smiles. As Richard was being lowered into the ground, Anna was met with nothing, not even an icy glare. That would have been preferable to cold indifference.
In an instant, the casket was gone. Her father was gone. Her parents were both gone. She was an orphan. Her lungs felt empty, her chest tight. She felt Christina's gloved fingers wrap tightly around her hand, felt Jenny's head on her shoulder, and the pressure eased somewhat. She closed her eyes until she could breathe freely again and saw Father O'Malley approaching.
He looked at Christina as he spoke but not before giving Anna a sidelong glance. "You are strength and poise personified."
"Thank you, Father."
Father O'Malley put a hand on Christina's shoulder. "My door is always open for you and your family, don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."
Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw blonde hair sway in the breeze. She turned, looking for Nina, but she was nowhere to be seen among the crowd.
She whispered urgently to Jennifer. "Where is she?"
"Who?"
"Nina."
Jenny shrugged as she looked around.
An elderly couple had joined Christina and Father O'Malley, she seemed to be introducing Viktor to them. She saw others ambling toward her, ready to give their condolences.
Where is Nina? Did she know about Margaret? Did she have a lead, or was she following a plan? Anna's heart began to drum in her chest. It was time.
She turned to Jenny. "I have to go."
"Where?"
Christina and Viktor had their backs to her, talking to people, thanking them for attending.
"Anna," she felt Jenny's hand on her arm. "What do you need to do?"
"I don't know."
"I'll go with you."
"I'm sorry, it's a family matter. I have to find my sister."
"Anna..."
"I'll call you later."
She looked back to make sure that Christina was still distracted then made her way toward the street as quickly as she could. She had to be fast, there was no point in trying to be inconspicuous when she was walking away from a funeral while wearing a red dress.