The Gallant South- Part One

Chapter XI- October 20-24, 1912

        Up until October 20, 1912, Cora had never had to plan a funeral. She had never even attended one. Growing up, she had always heard stories about how awful they were, how sad and miserable, but meaningful. She always heard people describe them as awful. Now she knew why.
        She had headed down to Martha and Ed's farm after lunch that day to meet up with the others and plan Nellie's funeral. Martha had cried and then shut herself in her bedroom. After that, Cora had written the guest list, and Renee had helped. It was terrible, and had rained all day as well.

        On the morning of the actual funeral, which was scheduled to begin at one, Cora woke up at six-thirty in the morning, and couldn't go back to sleep. Instead, she got dressed in a chemise and walked into the powder room to do her hair and makeup.
        No one else was awake yet, so Cora had both the bathroom and powder room to herself. On a second thought, she walked into the bathroom and turned one of the knobs above the bathtub. Hot water burst through the spout and began filling up the tub. Cora threw her chemise onto the shiny tile and waited for the tub to fill. When the water got too hot, she turned the cold knob a bit and opened the window, letting in the brisk and cold morning air, a contrast to the steaming hot tub.
        When the tub was nearly full, Cora stepped in and sat down. She inhaled and exhaled a few times before soaking her long and tangled hair. She let the water soak up all the bad feelings she had, and wished she could just stay in there forever.
        After a moment of careful thought, Cora held her breath and sunk her head underwater. After a moment, she came back up and inhaled. Suddenly, the events of Friday night seemed to fade.         There were more important things now. It was a thing of the past. She wasn't going to linger on the thought. Instead, she let it fuel her rage.
        When she was fourteen, Cora had read Macbeth for the first time. It hadn't resonated with her much back then, but now she recalled a line spoken by Malcom after Macduff discovers that his family has been murdered. "Be this the whetstone of your sword; let grief convert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it."
        And that was exactly what Cora was going to do. About both Friday night, and Nellie's murder. She wasn't going to sit around moping about them, or trying to pretend they didn't happen. She was going to let those events fuel her anger, her rage, her yearning to take down Colby and all the power he held.
        Cora stood up with newfound purpose before draining the tub and reaching for one of the fine Turkish bath towels that sat neatly folded on a large shelf. She dried herself off and redressed in her chemise before retreating back into the powder room to do her makeup.
        After Cora had broken the pitcher, Masterson stored the basin away somewhere and drove into town to purchase a new set, which was now sitting on the counter, the porcelain basin with the pitcher sitting inside of it, full of rose water, the same recipe Cora always used, as it had never failed her.
        She washed her face without thinking of the incident on Friday night, then pulled her hair into a messy bun-shaped updo that would be covered by her hat. She adorned her makeup, powdering her face and applying dark eyeshadow and natural lipstick. She looked at herself in the mirror. Still, it looked odd to see her hair and makeup done, and still only wearing a chemise, so she hurried to put on the rest of her undergarments, and then chose a silk morning gown and matching hat. She looked into the mirror in her closet with a regal and condescending face. This was the Cora that society knew. This was Cora Yvette Heiler-Dairson. If she exchanged the expensive dress for a simpler one, and let her hair tumble down, she would be the Cora that everyone at the Society knew. Cora Heiler, great niece of a hero. But under that, if she took off her makeup and fancy clothing and brave composure, she was just Cora. Plain old Cora. Just a twenty-one year old girl who has no idea what she's doing, and has thrown herself into the abyss that is the current situation. Under all of my facades and speeches and defiance, I am just a scared, weak, unknowing girl. I have no idea what I'm doing, she thought, and the reality of the situation hit her. She really didn't know anything. She had to rely on Bettirose and Kit and the others to guide her through everything that happened. She knew nothing of what was really going on, or how to stop it.
        All she knew was that it was going to be one hell of a morning.