Reluctantly Royal
Page 55
I’m not sure what it was that passed between us, but it filled me with strength. If Max could come out and deal with the media, the spotlight, then I could get up and do what I did best.
“Lady Meredith is now going to sing a farewell to her beloved grandfather.”
I kissed Marty’s head and looked at Max. Without a word, he slid a casual arm around my son’s shoulders.
As I stood up and walked toward the dais, I let go of my nerves and slid into the quiet zone I retreated to before a show. This was the place where I found my voice, where I found myself.
The minister stepped forward and shook my hand before leaning forward and kissing my cheek.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that your grandfather loved you very much.” He squeezed my hands.
“Thank you.”
“The stage is yours, my lady. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your voice.” He smiled. “I’m sure your grandfather will be listening.”
“I hope so.” Letting go of his hands, I stepped up to the podium and looked out at the audience.
The church was filled with people, but I didn’t let that faze me. I’d sung for larger groups before. As the piano began to play, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
This was my farewell to a man who had taught me what family meant, to reach for my dreams, and never to take no for an answer.
This is for you, Granddad.
Opening my mouth, I let the words fall out. I reached deep and sang with my heart, the pain that I felt echoed by the melody of the song. I’d chosen a more contemporary song, something that had become popular on the indie music circuit. I’d fallen in love with the words. It spoke of carrying that person’s love with you even if they were gone. Something about it touched my heart, and I wanted everyone in the room to feel it, too.
I didn’t look at anyone in particular as I sang. Instead I imagined Granddad standing in the aisle. I knew his eyes would be full of tears, because he always cried when I sang. It had started when I was little and in school, and even the last time I had been practicing while I visited for a Christmas holiday.
As the song neared its pinnacle I let my eyes run over the front pews. The local government was well represented, as were the local businesses. But then my eyes found my father as he watched with a stone face. I’d never understood why he hated my singing. He treated it with disgust, and at best, he ignored it. Marty watched me with a small smile, his perfect little face warming my heart.
As my eyes met Max’s, I almost stuttered. There was something in his expression that made me feel light. Pride and possession filled his face. I could practically feel his eyes like a gentle caress.
As the song drew to a close, I noticed that people were wiping at their cheeks and my pride swelled. Never had I sung better than I had for my grandfather. For the first time since finding out that Granddad had died, I felt as if I’d had my chance to say good-bye.
Stepping down from the podium, I went straight to Marty and hugged him, before taking my seat.
“You sounded great.” Marty hugged me tightly.
“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his head and looked up at Max.
When the choir began to sing, I looked back to the front and watched as the pallbearers took their spots around the coffin. Even my father strode up to the stage with steady steps. His face was a mask of confusion and pain. Seeing him struggle with reality without the aid of liquor was painful. It was obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here. And for a lot of reasons, I could agree with him.
Patrick looked pale, but determined. He stood just behind Max, whose face was composed into a vague sense of compassion. It was a practiced face, one that I’m sure he used for situations when he was uncomfortable, but needed to look the part. I felt bad that I had put him in that position, but I was even more grateful that he had agreed to do it. He had truly stepped up and helped my family.
He had helped me. Even when I begged him not to. Talk about being stubborn.
I watched as he walked with the others out of the church to the waiting cars outside. As a family, we were urged to stand and follow the casket. For the first time in my life I hated having everyone watch my every move. This was not the same as being on stage or performing. This was my real life—a painful moment in our family’s history.
Marty held my hand and I was grateful to have my new friends following behind us. It took some of the attention away from Marty and me. I stopped in the foyer of the building, next to the guest log, so that I could thank the people who had attended. It was a blur of faces and handshakes, well wishes and condolences. I looked over my shoulder to see Max throw me a guilty look, but he didn’t come to assist with the line. Instead I watched as he dipped into one of the cars. By the time it was over, I felt like I’d shaken every hand in Lilaria. And for some reason had a strong desire to wash my hands, or to dose them in hand sanitizer.
“My lady, your car is waiting.” Rachel touched my shoulder. “Her Highness, Princess Cathy, is already in the car with your son. I put some snacks inside for Marty and you. I figured you might be hungry, thirsty at least, after that long reception line.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I looked at the woman. “You’ve been a huge help.”
Outside, the sky was at odds with the sorrow in my heart. Bright, puffy clouds floated in a clear blue sky, and I had to squint my eyes after being in the dark church for so long. Even from as far away as the photographers were, I could hear the whir and snaps of their cameras. Some of them called my name, but I kept my gaze down and continued on. Now was not the time for pictures or statements.
“Lady Meredith is now going to sing a farewell to her beloved grandfather.”
I kissed Marty’s head and looked at Max. Without a word, he slid a casual arm around my son’s shoulders.
As I stood up and walked toward the dais, I let go of my nerves and slid into the quiet zone I retreated to before a show. This was the place where I found my voice, where I found myself.
The minister stepped forward and shook my hand before leaning forward and kissing my cheek.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that your grandfather loved you very much.” He squeezed my hands.
“Thank you.”
“The stage is yours, my lady. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your voice.” He smiled. “I’m sure your grandfather will be listening.”
“I hope so.” Letting go of his hands, I stepped up to the podium and looked out at the audience.
The church was filled with people, but I didn’t let that faze me. I’d sung for larger groups before. As the piano began to play, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
This was my farewell to a man who had taught me what family meant, to reach for my dreams, and never to take no for an answer.
This is for you, Granddad.
Opening my mouth, I let the words fall out. I reached deep and sang with my heart, the pain that I felt echoed by the melody of the song. I’d chosen a more contemporary song, something that had become popular on the indie music circuit. I’d fallen in love with the words. It spoke of carrying that person’s love with you even if they were gone. Something about it touched my heart, and I wanted everyone in the room to feel it, too.
I didn’t look at anyone in particular as I sang. Instead I imagined Granddad standing in the aisle. I knew his eyes would be full of tears, because he always cried when I sang. It had started when I was little and in school, and even the last time I had been practicing while I visited for a Christmas holiday.
As the song neared its pinnacle I let my eyes run over the front pews. The local government was well represented, as were the local businesses. But then my eyes found my father as he watched with a stone face. I’d never understood why he hated my singing. He treated it with disgust, and at best, he ignored it. Marty watched me with a small smile, his perfect little face warming my heart.
As my eyes met Max’s, I almost stuttered. There was something in his expression that made me feel light. Pride and possession filled his face. I could practically feel his eyes like a gentle caress.
As the song drew to a close, I noticed that people were wiping at their cheeks and my pride swelled. Never had I sung better than I had for my grandfather. For the first time since finding out that Granddad had died, I felt as if I’d had my chance to say good-bye.
Stepping down from the podium, I went straight to Marty and hugged him, before taking my seat.
“You sounded great.” Marty hugged me tightly.
“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his head and looked up at Max.
When the choir began to sing, I looked back to the front and watched as the pallbearers took their spots around the coffin. Even my father strode up to the stage with steady steps. His face was a mask of confusion and pain. Seeing him struggle with reality without the aid of liquor was painful. It was obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here. And for a lot of reasons, I could agree with him.
Patrick looked pale, but determined. He stood just behind Max, whose face was composed into a vague sense of compassion. It was a practiced face, one that I’m sure he used for situations when he was uncomfortable, but needed to look the part. I felt bad that I had put him in that position, but I was even more grateful that he had agreed to do it. He had truly stepped up and helped my family.
He had helped me. Even when I begged him not to. Talk about being stubborn.
I watched as he walked with the others out of the church to the waiting cars outside. As a family, we were urged to stand and follow the casket. For the first time in my life I hated having everyone watch my every move. This was not the same as being on stage or performing. This was my real life—a painful moment in our family’s history.
Marty held my hand and I was grateful to have my new friends following behind us. It took some of the attention away from Marty and me. I stopped in the foyer of the building, next to the guest log, so that I could thank the people who had attended. It was a blur of faces and handshakes, well wishes and condolences. I looked over my shoulder to see Max throw me a guilty look, but he didn’t come to assist with the line. Instead I watched as he dipped into one of the cars. By the time it was over, I felt like I’d shaken every hand in Lilaria. And for some reason had a strong desire to wash my hands, or to dose them in hand sanitizer.
“My lady, your car is waiting.” Rachel touched my shoulder. “Her Highness, Princess Cathy, is already in the car with your son. I put some snacks inside for Marty and you. I figured you might be hungry, thirsty at least, after that long reception line.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I looked at the woman. “You’ve been a huge help.”
Outside, the sky was at odds with the sorrow in my heart. Bright, puffy clouds floated in a clear blue sky, and I had to squint my eyes after being in the dark church for so long. Even from as far away as the photographers were, I could hear the whir and snaps of their cameras. Some of them called my name, but I kept my gaze down and continued on. Now was not the time for pictures or statements.
