“Hey, good morning,” Eric greets me as he stands before us.
I exchange a few words with him, before Matthew finally asks, “Who is that man you were talking to?”
“Oh, it’s their attorney,” he says simply.
“Their attorney?” we repeat at the same time.
Eric gives a quick chuckle seeing our synchronized astonishment. “Yes, and not surprisingly, they all have a diplomatic immunity and five bodyguards at the entrance.”
“What?” Matt remains just as shocked, but them having security doesn’t impress me. “You mean they came here with security of their own?”
“Yep,” Eric answers. “I can’t do anything with a diplomatic immunity. And those agents look like they are military-trained or something.” He pauses, giving a quick glance around. “Needless to say, they were expecting me.”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” I say just as fast in case he thinks I helped them out.
His lips twist into a smile. “I’m glad you didn’t.” Then he takes one step closer to me and leaning toward my ear, he adds, “After the memorial service, I have an audio recorder for you to put on.”
My heart squeezes tight at his words. Damn it! He was really serious about taping conversations. What a pity Alex isn’t here. I can’t even warn him. Not that I can, but the last thing I want is for him to be caught off guard about my taping conversations between us.
I try to find some sort of excuse in order to ditch the audio recorder, but I can’t find any. After all, I had agreed to it and even read a statement out loud.
I see my dad walking over to us alongside Father Thomas, so I try to brush those thoughts away and focus on them.
“Petra,” he begins, a hand resting on Father Thomas’s shoulder. “I know last time you saw him you were a few months old, but this is Father Thomas, the man who married me and who baptized you.”
Father Thomas is of short stature, but of empathetic face, with transparent glasses on, bald on top of his head, and by the wrinkles around his eyes, I’d say he’s in his seventies. His hand comes toward me, and I shake it wholeheartedly.
“I’m so sorry to meet you again in such circumstances,” he says with such a friendly voice that it warms my heart. “Your mom was such a wonderful woman. But I can assure you she’s in a better place now.”
Father Thomas knows what to say to bring comfort to those mourning. Alas, I don’t think he knows Mom and I didn’t really have the best relationship.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I tell him. “I know Mom would have wanted you to do her memorial service.” Despite my smile, I can’t mirror the warmth in his voice.
Then I glance across the terrace and see that everyone is already here—some are already seated on their chairs, while others are standing and waiting for us like Emma and my in-laws.
As I come to think of it, I should go and greet them. After all, it’s the least I should do given the fact they have come from so far away. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say with a small smile, before leaving the group and walking toward Margaret. I put on my most polite smile and do my best to conceal the hate I have for those criminals. Yet, it’s hard to swallow the fact that Julia abducted my mom and had no issues toasting with me on New Year’s Eve like nothing happened.
As I approach their group, I can’t help but wonder what I am supposed to say to those who planned my Mom’s abduction and then her death.
Standing in front of them, I notice they all stop talking and Margaret turns to greet me with a smile like she knows nothing. “Petra.” She is the first to speak. Her voice is sweet like honey and she brings me into her arms, giving me a hug that feels everything but sincere. “How are you coping with all of this?”
Oh, what an interesting question. No sorry for your loss, or my condolences? I’m glad she didn’t say any of those things—coming from her it’d have been ridiculous.
“I’m okay, Emma and Carice have been helping me a lot.” It’s the first thing I can think of.
“Good,” she says simply. “And your husband? How is he doing?”
Interesting how for once she referred to him as my husband rather than her son.
“We haven’t spoken since he was arrested,” I tell Margaret. Her brows rise in astonishment at my sincerity. “And you? Have you spoken to him already?”
“I did, yes,” she answers. Then a small pause ensues, before she leans slightly closer to me and says, “Petra, I can assure you he’s innocent.”
“If he is, then you certainly are not,” I grit between teeth as I try to remain calm despite facing the woman who most likely killed Mom.
Margaret doesn’t avert her gaze from mine. Instead she keeps staring right through me and says, “Every choice we make has consequences.” She then pauses, gauging my reaction, but I remain just as stoic. After everything she has done, nothing surprises me or outrages me anymore. “Every. Single. One.”
“That’s right,” I answer calmly, my eyes never leaving hers. “Just make sure yours don’t come back to haunt you.”
All of a sudden though, Emma steps in, draping an arm around mine, ready to drag me away. “Petra, shall we start?”
“Sure,” I reply, before my attention returns to Margaret, who seems to have lost her tongue. “Have a seat, Father Thomas will start soon.” And I politely turn my back on her, walking with Emma to the first row of chairs.
As we take a seat beside each other, I’m glad that for once she isn’t spending her time with Yara. I notice her arm is still draped around mine and a smile settles on my lips, my heart filled with gratitude for having her here during such a horrible time in my life. While most couples are out celebrating Valentine's Day, here I am burying my mother without my husband even bothering to attend. No matter how bad my relationship with her was, I’d have rather spent the day with Alex with Mom still alive, than here watching Father Thomas as he starts his speech.
After twenty minutes in, Father Thomas turns his gaze to me and asks, “Petra? Do you want to say a few words?”
Oh, crap.
Time really flies when your mind is half here, half somewhere else. I didn’t even notice that it’s now my turn to do a eulogy. I take a deep breath, trying to tame my growing nerves, stand up, and smooth my dress as I walk in the direction of the podium. Standing behind the lectern, I adjust the microphone to my height, and take from the inner pocket of my blazer the sheet of paper where I wrote my speech, putting it in front of me.
“Good morning,” I greet, looking around the room, especially at my dad, Emma, and Matt. Familiar and friendly faces make it easier to speak and helps me calm down. “Thank you everyone for joining me as we say goodbye to my mother, Tess Hagen.” Everyone smiles at me, and I briefly check my notes, before proceeding. “I am very grateful that this room is filled with so many people that knew and cared for her.”
Well, except my in-laws, but I digress.
“Seeing the tremendous love and support here for her is humbling and inspiring.” I pause and take a breath. “Truthfully, Mom and I didn’t have the best relationship. In fact, we had many disagreements, yet, despite all our ups and downs, she was the most determined person I have ever known. She fought tooth and nail to protect the most vulnerable ones in society, which is why she dedicated her life to her nonprofit.”