Page 4 of The Bride
When Jakeand I walked into the house, all conversation stopped. Everyone turned to me and I could see it, in each one of their faces… pity. No that wasn’t fair. Sympathy. Which I interpreted as pity.
These were all the wives of the neighbors who hadn’t driven out to the cemetery so they could set up the… what the hell was this, anyway? The after-funeral party? The Sad Reception? Whatever it was, it was weird.
I took off my coat, tried to rub some warmth into my legs, and walked into the living room where I imagined people would come and talk to me.
Or did I have to go and talk to them? Was this like a wedding where I was the bride and had to reach out to the guests? Or was this more like what I had to do at the church earlier, where I stood by my dead dad as everyone shook my hand and saidsorry for your loss?
Some awkwardly hugged me, too. I mean people who would have never hugged me. Like my P.E. teacher, Mr. Kelly, was suddenly hugging me.
Now it seemed all these people would all do the same thing, except this time there would be the prize of food at the end.
Only no one who was already there came to see me. They were busy putting out dishes and plates and serving utensils. Jake seemed to be overseeing things, which was typical. Finally it was Mrs. Petty, of the famed Bundt cake, who found me first.
“How about I get you some hot tea?”
“Kay.”
She smiled then. This really big smile, and I could tell it was because she was so happy that she could actually do something. TEA! Tea was going to make me feel better. Tea was going to warm me up. Tea was the thing that I needed and Mrs. Petty was going to make that happen.
She brought the tea with a softer smile, and I took a sip.
Tea did not make me feel better, but I didn’t tell her that.
The doorbell started to ring, which was totally weird because I couldn’t remember the last time I heard it. Most people who knew me or my dad knocked real hard and then opened it. It wasn’t like the door was ever locked.
The Long Valley Ranch was in the middle of nowhere. We never expected people to come by and rob us.
Oh shit. I was going to have to live alone in the house. That was freaking scary. I guessed I would have to start locking doors. Keep Dad’s shotgun next to the bed.
What if I had to shoot someone?
“Ellie?”
I looked up. It was Mrs. Nash.
“Hi, Mrs. Nash.”
She opened her mouth and then shut it. I could see she’d been crying. This was super awkward too, because Mrs. Nash, who had been my freshman English teacher, had also been banging my dad.
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
“I’m so…”
“Sorry. Yep. I guess… Well, you know. I’m sorry too. For you.”
She looked at me and I could see she realized that I knew about her and my dad. For a moment she looked alarmed. Like I would start telling everyone my dad had been banging a married woman.
“It’s okay,” I told her.
“Did your father…”
“No. He never said anything. It was an accident that I knew. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
My dad had this hunting cabin on the property. A one-room cabin with limited amenities. I can’t even remember what had caused me to head out there. I’d been riding Petunia—yes, my horse’s name was Petunia—and I’d figured I would check to make sure the cabin was stocked in case Dad wanted to go hunting as the season was coming up. I saw his truck parked out front and then I watched as Mrs. Nash drove up and got out of her car.
The reason she was called Mrs. Nash was because of Mr. Nash.
