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I took her chin in my hand and meshed my lips to hers, tasting the tang of coffee and breakfast on her tongue and attempting to swipe it all away. Her arms clung to my shoulders until I thrust her away. I saw that her pupils were dilated.
Good.
I smiled. “My driver’s waiting downstairs to take you wherever you need to go.”
Her eyelids fluttered and she nodded, headed for the door without another word.
—
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CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
NORA
“Drop me off here,” I told Alexei’s driver, and he looked at me through the rearview mirror in surprise. We were still three blocks away from my neighborhood, but I didn’t want him coming any closer. He maneuvered the large SUV to the curb, and I got out. I smiled tentatively, thanking him, and then waited until he’d driven away before I began walking the rest of the way.
I had to hurry, because even though I had some time, I was cutting it close.
Celia’s ceremony was supposed to start at ten a.m., and it was 9:15 already. The only upside for my being so late was that my grandma couldn’t interrogate me as to where I’d been. She was too busy hurrying me along.
She’d gone as far as laying out a dress for me to wear.
“No time for a shower now. Get dressed,” she ordered.
“Yes, Lita,” I replied meekly, hurrying to my room, and feeling very glad I’d taken the time to shower at Alexei’s. I changed my clothes in record time, pulled my hair back into a knot, applied the lightest foundation and some nude lipstick.
“That’ll do.”
I stepped out of my room and my grandma examined me critically. “Where are your pearl earrings? You should wear them.”
I nodded, going back to retrieve them before joining her at the door.
“I’ve already called a cab. It’s three minutes away,” she said.
I nodded and stood quietly, bag in hand. I didn’t really agree with this ceremony. It felt like giving up to me. But if it was what Lita needed, then I would support her.
We arrived at the cemetery with two minutes to spare. Jodie was standing by the headstone, looking solemn in a charcoal grey skirt suit. She reached out and hugged me tightly, then my grandmother. There were no other mourners except for the three of us and the priest.
The priest bent his head. “Let us pray,” he announced and launched into a slightly long-winded prayer about forgiving sins and accepting souls into heaven. I wasn’t really listening. My Lita tried her best, but I just could not take comfort in religion the way that she did.
All I could think was that, while we stood here mourning a headstone and an empty grave, Celia might be out there somewhere praying for someone to rescue her.
