Midnight Mass (Camren)

CHAPTER 11

By the time I left the lectern, Camila was gone. Behind me, I could hear Father McCoy beginning the final prayers and farewells that would wrap up the service, and it would be disrespectful and rude to simply walk out of the sanctuary at this point, but I didn't care. I had to find her, and I also knew that Millie would have wanted me to do the same thing.

The narthex was empty except for a couple of children chasing each other around the fonts of holy water. Their shouts and squeaks were incongruous with the heavy atmosphere just inside the sanctuary, but also perfect. Millie loved children; she would have wanted them happy and playing at her funeral, and so despite the fact that I was hunting for my wife with my heart jackhammering at a million miles per hour, I smiled at them. Smiled and wished that I could count on a future where I would have loud children running around a church, happy and playing, and ours.

I pushed the outside doors open, the bitter wind bringing with it tiny pellets of ice and sleet. Even though it was only four in the afternoon, the sun was setting, and already the Christmas lights along Weston's main strip of antique shops and wineries were lit up. The glow gave the scene a homey, cozy feeling despite the desolate sky and the brownish river bluffs in the distance.

"Lauren," came a quiet, shivering voice.

Camila stood at the edge of the steps outside the door. Rosy spots had blossomed high on her cheeks and her breath came in large white clouds. She wore a black-netted veil, which hung down to her chin, pinned with small ruby-encrusted combs into the graceful sweep of her hair. With her tailored coat and heels, she looked like a femme fatale from some 1930s noir drama, and I wanted to lift that veil and kiss that deadly red mouth. I was too tired for anger or defensiveness any longer.

A kiss would be enough.

But I kept my physical urges under control. "I'm so glad you came. It would have meant a lot to Millie."

She nodded, her eyes on the twinkling lights down the street. "And it meant a lot to me to be here. I cared about her too, you know."

A few days ago, a whole host of angry responses would have been hot and waiting on my tongue, but not today. Instead I tore my eyes away from her face and pinned them on the salt-strewn steps. We need to talk about our future, I wanted to say. Or maybe the less threatening we need to talk about us. Or maybe simply can I buy you a cup of coffee?

She beat me to it. "I flew in this morning. I'd like to get a hotel room together, if that's okay with you?"

A fragile needle of hope pierced through my grief-haze. "Yes," I said softly. "Yes, that's okay with me."

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We stayed for the funeral reception in the church basement, sharing stories of Millie and her life, and even Camila spoke up a few times, although it was usually to add a small detail to what someone else was saying. After we ate our fill of potato-chip casseroles and pasta salads, we climbed into Sean's Audi. He gave me a look after Camila climbed in, a what the fuck is going on look, but I ignored him. Mostly because I didn't trust that he wouldn't be an asshole to Camila in the car, but also because I didn't know what was going on myself.

We swung by Sean's place to get my bag, and then he dropped us off at an expensive hotel downtown. When I made a noise of protest, he interrupted. "I'm taking care of it," he said firmly.

"Sean, man, I can't let you do that."

He shrugged. "I would like to see you stop me, given that I'm driving."