SHATTERED VOWS: An Arrange Marriage

CHAPTER 17: MORINA

The rest of the evening, I waited like prey ready to be slaughtered any second. I jumped at the slightest sound, and my grandmother even scolded me.

“Mo, is this so scary to you? What’s got you so tense?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The mob being in our town, for one.” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her wrinkled brow.

“It’s not like you think. I fluff my own ego by acting as though we’re still at war. Like a soldier wounded in battle who remembers those days as some of the bravest ones he ever lived, I like to talk as if it still might happen, huh? Don’t get your panties in a bunch. They’re mostly businessmen now. Like I said, gentleman mobsters.” I took a deep breath.

“What do you mean, Grandma?”

“Ach. They have hearts now. They live by new rules. They make clean money instead of bleeding those who crossed them.” She waved toward the big city.

“They know how to move things without death now. I think it's better this way but maybe more cruel. I’ve heard of how Bastian works. He’ll cut off dealings with those he doesn’t want to work with and let the wolves underground rip apart those he doesn’t protect. He wants everything legal but still holds all the cards in his hand.”

“That sounds just as scary.” I shivered as a breeze passed through.

“Maybe. But there’s ethics now. Code he lives by more than his dad ever did. It’d serve you well to marry into that.”

Sighing, I dug my nails into my hands so as not to jump down her throat right away. Grandma meant well. In her mind, marriage could smooth over many things. She thought Bastian would be protecting me with his name, but she didn’t understand.

“They love me here, Grandma. You know that right? Jonah is out on the water every day with me, Iago is at the food truck bright and early, and I’ve worked at the humane society for years. Dr. Nathan—”

“Don’t be naive, Mo. Men love a pretty woman to look at. They won’t risk their lives for you. And who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone?”

I stumbled at her question in shock. I tried to school my expression, but she caught it.

“Oh, I know. You think you take care of yourself, but I pay the bills. I run the numbers of the real businesses we have. I’m your protection.” Her words were like a punch to my gut.

“I’m perfectly capable of doing all of that, Grandma.”

“We will see,” she murmured and went to her room.

She died that very night, and her last words loomed, now ominous with their weight.

There wasn’t a sound made. No glass fell to the ground, no cry for help, not even a great sigh from her bedroom. She went the way everyone hopes they will—quiet and warm in her bed. My grandmother had taken life by the horns and maybe she’d wanted to ride out of it softly. Either way, I liked to think she chose it.

She’d always been able to steer things her way. Why not death? I’d taken one breath, two breaths, and then maybe fifty more as I stood over her the next morning. In the end, we’d planned her funeral, wake, everything. It was all planned perfectly.

Except what I would do the day it happened. I was alone, the only sound in her room was my breath, not hers. The gulls outside, the waves, their rhythm was with my breathing. Not hers. Just mine. Life was too quiet without her rattling breaths.

The room was so empty with only my own. The sun shone in through the window as if mocking me, and I turned the bracelets on my wrist for far too long before deciding to call the nonemergency line. They came right away, much like if I’d called 911.

Yet, no sirens. No sound. Maybe that was the benefit of a small town. The sheriff pulled me in for a hug. He’d heard from the nonemergency call and decided to come with. He told me to swing by the tiki bar later, that he’d tell Bradley to have a drink waiting for me.

I didn’t go. I sat in that empty house and listened to the new silence. I was silent when I cried that night too. And the night after. And the night after that. Complete quiet except for the rhythm of my breathing and the rhythm of the waves. We worked together to get me through those hard days. Losing my grandmother was like losing my life.

She’d been both of my parents for so long. When they’d passed, she’d stepped in. She’d always stepped in, even when they’d still been there. Losing her was bigger, more detrimental, and much more heart wrenching. I’d planned for it all, but I couldn’t plan for the pain and for the loss of myself.

So many gifts arrived those next few days. Flowers and more flowers and pies and food, as if I wanted to eat and have a nice-smelling house. I set it all next to the urn I had to hold on to until the funeral.

I ignored calls and the doorbell ringing until that day. It was the day I had to pull on my big-girl dress and face the music. The world still turned, and grandma was gone even if I didn’t want her to be. The funeral home was small and dark.

It was not a place my grandmother would have ever enjoyed. I didn't enjoy it either, not with the fabric of the wooden chairs yellowed and worn from so many people coming to say goodbye to their loved ones, so many people who’d sat in those same spots. So much pain. So much death.

Over the past few days, a beating had started in my soul. Angry. Sad. If you could imagine a drum of death and darkness, that was exactly how it sounded. Sometimes the thump was so roaring, it sounded like thunder, so loud in my ears I couldn't hear anything else. Maybe it was my heart. It went up and down, up and down like the ocean, like my breath.

“Morina.” Bradley’s hand on my shoulder made me jump.

He yanked it away and winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no.” I shook my head to try to right myself.

“It’s fine. I’m on edge today.”

“As you should be. It’s a hard burden to carry yourself,” he blurted out and then immediately followed up with,

“I mean, not by yourself. We’re all here.”

“Of course you are.” I patted his back and kissed him on the cheek.

His kind eyes searched my face. Bradley would have provided me comfort any other day, his muscular frame always dwarfing mine and making me feel protected. Today, though, no one could protect me from the grief. He hesitated from saying anything more, and I squinted at his awkwardness.

“Don’t tiptoe, Bradley. It was never your strong suit.” He sighed, but his shoulders relaxed a little.

“It’s a hell of a day, Mo. Everyone’s going to walk on eggshells around you.” I turned and found the whole town piling into the funeral home.

“Don’t I know it,” I mumbled.

I gripped my bracelets, one a deep, earthy green color with spots of bold red. Bloodstone for courage and bravery. I wore another made of howlite for patience and compassion. I’d also slid a rose quartz crystal in my black dress’s pocket. I would grip it when I needed the confidence and calm that I surely wouldn’t feel today.

People filled the seats or bustled around the empty spaces, and most of them weren’t idly talking. They moved flowers around, waving in others, hugging the ones who cried, laughing with the ones who shared memories. The town was a family, and I smiled because Grandma had been a big part of it.

The director came to talk over logistics, but Grandma had said she wanted a speech from the priest, nothing from me, and wanted one thing played before they ended the ceremony. Nothing from me. A part of her probably always wanted me to do nothing. She’d never ever wanted to be a burden.

Today, more than any other day, I appreciated that. I sat next to Bradley, and he put his arm around me while the priest spoke of Grandma’s love for the town, the work she and my grandfather had done, and how every moment spent with her was a joy. Everything he said, people nodded along. I didn’t let a tear escape as he talked.

I’d cry alone in the silence tonight. Today, I’d let the town cry for her instead. The priest announced that there was one song she’d chosen and motioned for the funeral director to play it. Grandma hadn’t let me know this part but as the beat started up, I think I was the first to chuckle. We’d always played and laughed at Eminem, so when “Without Me” started, I laughed.

The words were absolutely ridiculous, and those who knew them started laughing too. We sang along, and the tears that streamed down my face were happy ones. When it ended, the funeral director hurried forward but I stopped him.

“I want to say one thing.” My breath shook as I took it in.

“I’m not good with words. We all know I’m mercurial by nature. I’m a product of my parents, right?”

Most of them laughed at my joke.

“Maybe my grandma was a little perturbed with my mom marrying a guy that bent with the wind. And when the accident took them, I think she was a little mad even. Still, she never bent to anything—the wind, the water, this town could have tried to push her, and she would have stood her ground. We were lucky to have that, I think.”

I took a shaky breath and tried to smile instead of cry. I caught Bradley’s eye and he nodded for me to continue.

“We knew we could count on her in anything. Bradley even counted on her to take down more moonshine in the tiki bar than anyone else. I’m pretty sure she made you thousands with the bets you won every time a businessman stopped into town.” Everyone laughed at that.

“I guess we all know with me, you can’t do that. I’m always doing my own thing.” More chuckles.

“Except for the food truck, our puppies at the humane society, and the ocean—you know I’ll always be there for you when it comes to that. So, she’s gone, but she’ll always be a part of the city, and here’s to hoping that her spirit flying through here will make us all a little more like Maribel.”

Bradley whooped and everyone clapped. I stepped down from the podium and went to lay a hand on the urn. Some heavy weight lifted from my chest, and I believed in spirits, in things of the atmosphere shifting, and if she was there, I think that weight lifting was her spirit sighing in relief.

. “I’ll be fine, Grandma,” I whispered.

That moment marked the exact second that I finally felt I would be. This town was going to be the place where I’d never feel alone. When I looked back into the crowd, the air around me changed. I don’t know if it was because I’d slept with him or if it was because of the aura he carried everywhere, but Bastian tampered with my atmosphere every time he showed up. What the hell was he doing here?

I finally needed the rose quartz in my pocket. I squeezed it. I glanced at the beads on my wrist and eyed my newest addition up against the bloodstone and howlite. Pure black tourmaline for protection, confidence, emotional stability, and strength.

But I also wore it for Grandma. She was strong, and I wanted that strength with me always. His eyes met mine as he looked up at me on that stage near the urn. I shot daggers his way. He nodded, turned, and left. Good.

This was for our town today. Not an outsider. I received more condolences, hugged more members of the community, and accepted more gifts. Bradley stayed through most everyone leaving and through the funeral director letting me know the next steps.

Then, we stepped out into the sunshine together. I thought fatigue would set in, that I would want to go home and curl up with a glass of wine, but outside stood Bastian in a navy suit. His Ray-Bans covered those dark eyes that always pierced my soul. He had one ankle crossed over the other and his hands in his pockets as he leaned against his Rolls-Royce.

The sun shined down on him like not a thing had gone wrong today. The birds still chirped, cars still drove by, the wind still blew, and in the distance, I could still hear the waves rolling in and out. In and out. Was I breathing the same way? Or was it faster, more furious than before? I knew my heart beat more rapidly too, because the thudding was deep, hard and mournful.

I fisted my hands and Bradley asked beside me, “You okay?” I nodded, not looking at him.

“Yes. I need to handle something. I’ll call you later.” His lips pursed but he kissed me on the forehead and told me to call if I needed him.

Then he left me as I walked toward Bastian.