neck for a bit before touching on eyelids and nose and working his way down to the corner of her mouth and into her mouth.
“Colin?”
“Jesus! What? Sorry—you were saying something?”
“I was only echoing something you said earlier about being barred from Rayce’s funeral—that by being denied the ritual, you were being denied a crucial element of the mourning process.”
“No shit. Selfish bunch of twits, that rag-tag family are, and I don’t give a flying fuck about their reasoning that a funeral ceremony open to his friends would’ve become a circus. Rayce’s bleedin’ life was a circus. Try denying that, won’t you!” He gives the steering wheel a hard thump.
“I’m not, sweetie. I’m just agreeing with you that closure will indeed be difficult to accomplish without some event or ceremony to mark his passing.”
“We’ll have to make do with a coroner’s inquest for that, won’t we, then?”
“It begins to look that way.” Laurel slumps into a resigned silence that encourages him to alter his outlook a bit.
“In the back of my mind,” he says, “ever since we got in the car this morning, I’ve had the idea that while we’re rather removed—encapsulated, you could say—and in motion, we could suspend these cares and woes and sneak a bit of the happiness we should’ve been wallowing in these past four days. Days that should’ve been amongst the happiest we’ll ever have—and there’s another reason why I’m dead certain Rayce didn’t do himself in. Suicide’s a selfish act. Rayce may’ve been a great many things over the years, but he was never selfish. He’d never willfully do anathing to lessen the happiness of someone he cared about—and he did care about my happiness. He rather reveled in it, actually. The day Rayce met you he rang my mum to say we all were gonna be blessed with way more than we ever could’ve hoped for. He was delighted. Thrilled, he was. Clear over the moon.”
“But that was before—”
“Yeh, it was, before I was ready to speak up. But Rayce had faith. He knew right off that you were destined to be more than my official biographer.”
“Oh lord, you have to bring that up.”
“Every chance I get. Did you know there was talk of having a T-shirt made? And Gemma offered to embroider a cushion with the legend. Done lovingly, you understand.”
“I understand, and I hope you understand that designation was never a sham. I’ll admit I was hiding behind it toward the end of my resistance, but I always intended to see the job through. And now that I think of it, that may be one of the things Amanda wants to discuss with us. How to finish the book now that I’m a hopelessly biased participant.”
“Hopelessly biased. I rather like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might.”
When traffic does come to a complete stop they’re in a seedy residential area. Colin stares out at the madly contrasting facades of tumbledown attached houses with derelict cars parked in front gardens and spilt-over dustbins dotting the remainder of the landscape. Not quite the setting he had in mind for covering her face with kisses.
“I love you, Laurel Grace Chandler, and I’m happier than I have any right to be at the moment,” he says without darting as much as a glance at her or he’ll choke up.
She could be in the same predicament because she doesn’t say anything till they’re under way again, nearly to the river crossing, where she responds in kind, then brings up a subject no one’s dared approach before now.
“How will I ever forgive myself for missing Rayce’s concert at the Garden? I—”
“Laurel . . . Do not go there.”
“I can’t help it. I cared about him too, you know. I may not have known him very long, but he meant a lot to me and now I’m cheated out of ever knowing him better, and I’ve cheated myself out of ever seeing him in concert because I was so goddammed stubborn and so cruel to you and—”
“Leave off! I
“Colin?”
“Jesus! What? Sorry—you were saying something?”
“I was only echoing something you said earlier about being barred from Rayce’s funeral—that by being denied the ritual, you were being denied a crucial element of the mourning process.”
“No shit. Selfish bunch of twits, that rag-tag family are, and I don’t give a flying fuck about their reasoning that a funeral ceremony open to his friends would’ve become a circus. Rayce’s bleedin’ life was a circus. Try denying that, won’t you!” He gives the steering wheel a hard thump.
“I’m not, sweetie. I’m just agreeing with you that closure will indeed be difficult to accomplish without some event or ceremony to mark his passing.”
“We’ll have to make do with a coroner’s inquest for that, won’t we, then?”
“It begins to look that way.” Laurel slumps into a resigned silence that encourages him to alter his outlook a bit.
“In the back of my mind,” he says, “ever since we got in the car this morning, I’ve had the idea that while we’re rather removed—encapsulated, you could say—and in motion, we could suspend these cares and woes and sneak a bit of the happiness we should’ve been wallowing in these past four days. Days that should’ve been amongst the happiest we’ll ever have—and there’s another reason why I’m dead certain Rayce didn’t do himself in. Suicide’s a selfish act. Rayce may’ve been a great many things over the years, but he was never selfish. He’d never willfully do anathing to lessen the happiness of someone he cared about—and he did care about my happiness. He rather reveled in it, actually. The day Rayce met you he rang my mum to say we all were gonna be blessed with way more than we ever could’ve hoped for. He was delighted. Thrilled, he was. Clear over the moon.”
“But that was before—”
“Yeh, it was, before I was ready to speak up. But Rayce had faith. He knew right off that you were destined to be more than my official biographer.”
“Oh lord, you have to bring that up.”
“Every chance I get. Did you know there was talk of having a T-shirt made? And Gemma offered to embroider a cushion with the legend. Done lovingly, you understand.”
“I understand, and I hope you understand that designation was never a sham. I’ll admit I was hiding behind it toward the end of my resistance, but I always intended to see the job through. And now that I think of it, that may be one of the things Amanda wants to discuss with us. How to finish the book now that I’m a hopelessly biased participant.”
“Hopelessly biased. I rather like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might.”
When traffic does come to a complete stop they’re in a seedy residential area. Colin stares out at the madly contrasting facades of tumbledown attached houses with derelict cars parked in front gardens and spilt-over dustbins dotting the remainder of the landscape. Not quite the setting he had in mind for covering her face with kisses.
“I love you, Laurel Grace Chandler, and I’m happier than I have any right to be at the moment,” he says without darting as much as a glance at her or he’ll choke up.
She could be in the same predicament because she doesn’t say anything till they’re under way again, nearly to the river crossing, where she responds in kind, then brings up a subject no one’s dared approach before now.
“How will I ever forgive myself for missing Rayce’s concert at the Garden? I—”
“Laurel . . . Do not go there.”
“I can’t help it. I cared about him too, you know. I may not have known him very long, but he meant a lot to me and now I’m cheated out of ever knowing him better, and I’ve cheated myself out of ever seeing him in concert because I was so goddammed stubborn and so cruel to you and—”
“Leave off! I
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