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I stared down into the prisms of light created on the surface of the bubbles. I'd asked myself the same question a hundred times. "I don't know."
Shay pushed to standing in the bath and I allowed myself the brief luxury of watching the bubbles slip down her wet skin. Then I walked over and grabbed the towel off the hook.
She gazed at me with expressive brown eyes as I reached behind her with the towel. I pulled it shut around her, taking care not to touch her skin. But it no longer had anything to do with losing a million dollars. This was new. I was afraid to touch her. My feelings for her grew stronger each day and I was sure a touch, one simple touch was going to take me over the edge. None of this was what I'd expected when I came up with this crazy plan. Shay wasn't what I'd expected.
The warmth from the hot bath radiated off of her skin as I pinched the towel closed around her. She seemed stunned by my actions. Frankly, I was too. It had started out as a polite gesture with a towel, but it left me short of breath and realizing just how badly I wanted to take care of her. When I'd first told her the details of the two week plan, she'd asked what the consequences would be if I fell in love with her. Knowing that I was a cold-hearted jerk without the ability to fall in love or form an emotional attachment, I'd brushed it off.
Shay tucked the towel tightly around her. "I'll get dressed." She stopped halfway to the door. "Uh, I think I have a dress that will work for the occasion. The stuff in the closet might be sort of inappropriate for a funeral."
"Anything is fine, Shay."
"Nash"—she paused again—"I got the house in Alta Dena. I can move in next week."
I nodded. "That's good." I tried to show an ounce of enthusiasm, but it just wasn't working. "I know you were hoping to get that place."
"Yes. It'll be perfect for me." She walked out.
27
Jack clapped me on the shoulder. "Thought I was going to be late," he said as he leaned past me and waved hello to Shay. "Wow, you said it would be small, but my sister had more people at her hamster's funeral. Is this really what he wanted?"
I looked at him. "This is bigger than he wanted. You and Shay are technically my guests, not his."
The cemetery had gone through the trouble of setting up a row of chairs along the grave, but they were empty. James Sheffield and a few business acquaintances, who I hardly knew, were standing around on the sloped green lawn talking amongst themselves. This was not going to be one of those funerals with hugs and handkerchiefs and charming anecdotes about the deceased. Just like the way he lived, Dad was leaving the world outside of the emotional bubble, a bubble he thought kept people from reaching their potential.
Dad's austere oak coffin sat on hoists, waiting to be lowered to his resting place. He'd asked for no flowers, but it seemed the funeral home had draped the coffin anyway. A man with a small book of verses and a badge that showed he worked for the cemetery greeted us as we reached Dad's eternal resting spot, a large, deep hole in the ground.
"Mr. Archer?" The man put out his hand. "I'm Stewart Brinks, your dad left specific instructions." He pulled out a piece of folded paper and cleared his throat. "I want no ceremony, and I don't need any kind words because they'll be—" He cleared his throat again and lowered his voice. "Bullshit. And I won't hear them anyhow. My son can let them know when he's ready for the grave workers to drop me in. These are my final instructions. David Nash Archer."
"Well, that's right to the point," Jack said.
"I'm going to head back to the funeral home," Brinks said. "I brought a book of prayer just in case you wanted to say a few words or maybe you'd like me to read some?"
"No, thank you. I'd like to stick to his instructions."
I walked up to the side of the grave. It was still impossible to think that my dad was inside. I'd spent nearly as much time fearing him as admiring him. He was the most complex person in the world, yet he was as predictable as the sun. The few other visitors who had gathered, probably more to see that he was really gone than to pay respects, watched and waited for me to speak.
I took a deep breath, thinking how little there was to say to these people. To me they were mostly strangers. They were all acquaintances through business. I was the only person in the world who truly knew my dad, but even I didn't know everything.
Jack stood nearby for support. Shay stood right next to me, close enough that if my little finger moved out it would graze her hand. "Good afternoon, everyone," I said to bring everyone's attention to the casket. "Thank you for coming to pay your respects. As you know, my dad was not big on ceremony or tradition. He wanted this simple graveside moment for the few people he considered important enough to see him off. If anyone would like to say something, please feel free to speak." There was some mumbling among the visitors, but it seemed there wasn't much to say about a man who never opened up or cultivated a friendship with the people around him.
