Outside, it had begun to rain again. Hannah zipped up her raincoat and watched as Julien flipped up his hood. “What did you think of the funeral?” she asked when the silence between them threatened to drown her.
Julien let his eyes flick over to her. “It wasn’t so different from other funerals.”
“I guess so. There’s always a script,” Hannah said. “Sometimes I wish funerals were allowed to mix things up a little bit. To reflect who the person really was. Like how they do it in New Orleans.”
Julien gave her a curious look.
“They have parades for their dead, sometimes,” Hannah explained. “It’s more of a celebration of life than anything serious and sad.” She stuttered, overthinking things. “I’m not saying it’s not sad. It is. But…”
“But life is a gift,” Julien offered.
Hannah smiled, surprised that he’d finished her thought. They were on the sidewalk, headed for the restaurant where the wake was being held. An enormous flock of people wearing all black was up ahead, walking toward the restaurant, probably hungry and eager for wine.
“Like I said,” Hannah began, “I didn’t know Thomas very well. Is there someone I can talk to at the funeral? Someone who could tell me more about him? I didn’t think the pastor did a great job of illustrating, you know, his personality. Who he really was.”
Julien furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. I guess you could talk to some of your family members?”
Hannah’s heartbeat quickened. Was he saying that because he could see through her lies? “How would you describe him?”
Julien thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Angry, sometimes. Passionate is maybe the word you’re supposed to use.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I saw him the night before he died,” Julien said thoughtfully. “He gave a speech at the city council meeting. He was angry. Angrier than I’d ever seen him.”
Hannah stopped short. Rain pelted the hood of her jacket. “What was he angry about?”
Julien waved his hand. “It’s difficult to explain. I think he hated that he didn’t have as much power as he thought he deserved.”
“But he was high up on the city council, right?”
Julien nodded. “Elections only take you so far in Nantucket. There’s an order to things here. I guess it’s different from what you’re used to down in Florida.”
Thinking of her husband, who’d taken whatever power he’d wanted along with whatever money he’d craved, regardless of his elected status, Hannah stifled an ironic laugh.
“I think things might be the same everywhere,” she said.
Julien stopped again. This time, he looked her dead in the eye and said, “As far as I know, things are not safe here. They’re not right here. But as long as you keep to yourself, as long as you respect what’s always been, you won’t have any trouble.” He tried to smile, as though he recognized how dark he’d gotten, then added, “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you. You won’t be here long enough for anything else to happen.”
Hannah’s voice was small. “So something did happen to Thomas?”
Julien raised his shoulders to his ears. “I don’t know anything. I really don’t.”
9
Uninterested in going home and staying in her room all night, eating snacks and waiting for the day to end, she walked the streets of Nantucket’s downtown, her hands in her pockets, her raincoat slick. She couldn’t believe how many mourners, dressed in black for the funeral, prowled the streets in the half-hour after the funeral ended. She could see they were headed to a restaurant at the far end of the block, where, she’d heard from eavesdropping on kids at school, the wake would be held.
Since Thomas Bard’s mysterious death, rumors had circled like wildfire at Nantucket High. Stacy Bard, his granddaughter, hadn’t been back to school since it happened, but plenty of kids had whispered about Thomas, how his body had been found in the water, how his death was a “warning to those who mess around.” Minnie didn’t understand what that meant. She’d tried to get up the nerve to ask Viggo about it during art class, but since that first day, they’d hardly spoken to one another. Minnie knew better than to bother him. His painting of the crow was one of the most spectacular things she’d ever seen, and shetold herself that just seeing him work, just seeing him create something, was enough for her.
She was too brokenhearted after her breakup with Gavin to think about anyone else, anyway. Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe that Gavin had dumped her like that, immediately after she’d lost her father, just as her world had crumbled. Was that love?
Minnie decided to stroll by the restaurant where the wake was being held, just to snoop a little bit. But as she drew closer, she realized she knew someone hanging around outside. It was Viggo, hunched under his raincoat, a skateboard clutched in his right hand. He was talking to someone that Minnie couldn’t make out at first.
This struck Minnie as odd. During the week she’d been at Nantucket High, she hadn’t seen Viggo talking to anyone. She’d sort of assumed that he didn’t have any friends, or that he deemed everyone beneath him. She walked a little bit closer, praying that he wouldn’t notice her. But just then, the person he spoke to turned around, her face marred with shock, her eyes rimmed red. It was Stacy Bard, Thomas Bard’s granddaughter. Minnie’s heart thumped.
Stacy said something else to Viggo, something Minnie couldn’t comprehend, then hurried through a throng of people to enter the restaurant. Viggo hung outside, looking wilted. Minnie felt a sudden rush of bravery. Her feet carried her across the street, where she ambled on the outskirts of the wake-goers. Viggo noticed her quick movements and turned his head to look at her. If Minnie wasn’t mistaken, a blush crawled up his cheeks.
She felt as though she’d caught him doing something wrong.
