His Wet Nurse

The funeral (44)

After burying her parents, Jema would often wonder why funerals were gloomy, why the air seemed to be heavy and tense. The sky looked the same as it did back when she watched her beloved parents being rolled beneath the soil while unfamiliar faces threw in sticks of flowers, hardly any tears on their faces. She didn't blame them though, they didn't know her parents much to have shed a tear but that very day, she'd watched her gran-gran whimper like a trapped dog. She'd cried for a week straight until her eyes were without tears.

Now she stood gazing at the brown casket as the Rector read some Bible passage. The formalities weren't of any importance to her or to the man lying inside the box, cold from rigor mortis. He wasn't much of a believer but if this would help him rest in peace then she would abide by it. Her clouded eyes searched for the stranger within the handful of people who came to witness Jacob's funeral, hoping she'd crawl out of her hiding place for just once and pay her last respect to the man who gave her everything she'd owned.

Jema wasn't interested in the money, not as much as a superficial person would. Yes, twenty million dollars was life-changing and huge but the source of that life-changer was what keeled her over in her mind. Why would anyone risk keeping such a traceable amount of money when they could just work and earn some?

She dabbed at her moist face and bit the tip of her index finger. After she visited the monastery, the Reverend's mother denied her request to bury Jacob's remains on the monastery grounds due to the shocking discovery of his illegal activities. But had promised to be present on the occasion while they hoped to lure sister Mary-Anthony out.

But as the minutes passed, with Jema constantly sharing known signals to the few nuns around and then returning her questioning gaze with a subtle shrug that stated negatively, Jema knew they had probably underestimated sister Mary-Anthony. Jacob meant nothing to her, he was merely her cash cow, a means to an end. There was never love or loyalty in her heart for him and today proved it blatantly to Jema.

Her gran-gran beside her linked her quivering fingers with Jema's free one as the Rector ordered the wheels to be lowered. Then it hit her!

That Jacob was gone, forever.
That he'd been unjustly killed and thrown to the sharks. That his enemies still roamed around freely and unscathed.

But her heart sank with the realization that as much as she hardly knew her husband, the part of her she'd fallen in love with, that sweet, tender side to him that brought light into her darkness was gone forever. Every laughter they ever shared, every time he offered his shoulders for her to cry on.

All the midnight whispers of promises to protect her were gone. She was alone, again. She'd yet incurred another loss.
She wished she'd taped every single moment with him, all those times he'd shied away from the camera. She had few pictures of them together, most of what she had was in her mind but the mind was fuzzy and forgetful.

"Mrs. Delray," someone spoke from behind her as she made to return to the car after throwing in a shovel of brown sand and a few of Jacob's possessions into the grave. She turned to stare at the unexpected visitor.

"Sir..." his name was what she searched for, it was somewhere in her mind, vague.

He did her the favor of ending her torture. "Officer Murray, your late husband's boss at—"

"At the USSS headquarters. I remember," Jema finished. "You came," she said, surprised.

He walked her towards her car. "Yes, I had to. You know after your visit the other day I've been thinking about how poorly my department handled your husband's death. The fact that he was one of our best men and after his death, he got shoved under the rug like nothing happened. It's a poor image for the US Security service to have."