Love Was Not The Plan

Chapter 2

Karen flinched with each thud, as the shoveled sand struck the casket. Kelly’s hand tightened on her elbow, supporting her in the very way he could, as tears ran down his face. Aunt Ever’s wail sliced through the drumming rain "Oh Damian! Elizabeth!" she wailed, fluttering her white hair. Mae buried her face in George’s coat and sobbed with perfect, shuddering gasps.

Karen stared at the mud that stained the brass nameplate. Damian Robert Anderson. Rain blurred the letters. But she stared hard at it as the memories hit like a physical blow until she swayed slightly. Kelly’s arm slid around her waist instantly and held her upright.

"Steady," he murmured into her ear, with his warm breath. But she didn’t lean in. Nor did she pull away. She just stood statue-still inside the circle of his arm, watching as each shovel of sand covered the casket. Each thud reminded her of the harsh reality of her status. She was now an orphan.

Aunt Eve drew close to where she stood, taking Karen’s icy hand and sniffled.

"My brave girl. Such strength!" Her red-rimmed eyes, brimmed with tears. Karen gently extracted her hand and said nothing.

George moved among the mourners, shaking hands with as many as he could, appreciating their presence, and accepting the back-pats. Karen watched him pause beside old Mr. Henderson who’d flown in from Zurich. George’s voice dropped into a low rumble she couldn’t hear over the rain and Henderson nodded slowly and patted George’s arm.

Kelly’s thumb brushed her side through the soaked black wool of her coat. Bringing his lips closer to her ear, he whispered, "Want to leave?"

She shook her head, her wet hair slapping her cheek. “Please stay. Until it’s done." Her voice came out raw. Like someone who had wailed till she had no more voice to speak. George finally approached her, with a face masked with sorrow. He placed his hand on her shoulder and sighed. "Come, Karen. You’re drenched. Let’s get you home." Karen remained still for a while before shrugging off his hands.

"I’ll ride with Kelly" she replied instead, and without even looking at him, turned and walked away. Kelly just followed, walking quietly beside her, leaving George at the spot, who watched them walk away.

“Nasty fools!” He murmured, and walked back to join his family. Even his grief couldn't hide his disgust for those two and the nonsense they shared.

Karen sat by the window, just lost in the space. She had insisted that Kelly went home to take enough rest as she would preferably be alone. He had been by her side since the incident. He needed the time off. An untouched tea and sandwiches sat on the table beside her. Outside, the rain gradually subsided to a mild drizzle.

Karen sat still, and didn't move even when she heard the footsteps approaching on the Persian rug. Aunt Eve appeared with a fresh tray. She gasped at the sight of the untouched tea and sandwiches.

"Sweetheart, you must eat. Don't injure yourself “ She said, setting down the plate of delicate cucumber sandwiches she had brought along.

"The florist called about the arrangements for the memorial service next week. White roses? Or perhaps calla lilies? I think your mother adored calla lilies…"

Karen’s gaze was lost in the space. "Mom hated calla lilies. Said they looked like funeral flowers."*

Eve’s smile faltered at that point.

“Of course! Roses, then. Please, eat your food.” She said, and with that took her leave.

Memories flooded her mind unstopped, as she sat still. Every errand she had run, every coffee she made, every gardening she had done with Dad and every sandwich she made with mom, kept throbbing her mind, numbing her even more.

The proud smile that fell on her father's face when he watched her conquer each mile, ran through her mind. “You'll always figure it out”, were his words each time he celebrated her victory. Well, all along, he had been right. She had always figured it out. But this time, those words echoed as lies.

Three days later, the Anderson family sat quietly in the manor’s library. It felt airless and smelled of dust and old paper and leather. Karen sat rigidly in the high-backed chair her father always used, facing his desk. Kelly stood behind her chair like a sentinel, because she had insisted that he had to be there with her, or else she wouldn't make the meeting. George occupied the chair opposite looking solemn, while Aunt Eve perched nervously on the edge of the chaise longue and Mae twisted a handkerchief in her lap and avoided everyone’s eyes.

Mr. Thorne, was Damian’s lawyer. He was a thin man, his hair filled with grey strands. He walked into the library, and placed a slim, cream-colored document folder on the desk and cleared his throat. At his entrance, everyone sat up, except Karen, whose head only lifted to see who walked in, and afterwards resumed her stoic position.

" Good day everyone.” he greeted, breaking the silence laced with grief, that dominated the room.

“I would like to begin by sympathizing with this family for the passing of Mr. Damian Anderson, and his wife, Elizabeth. Please accept my condolences.” He said, watching their reaction. George released a heavy sigh but remained silent afterwards.

“So with that done , let's get into the business of the day. We are gathered today for the reading of the Last Will and Testament of Damian Robert Anderson and Elizabeth Claire Anderson." He said, and took his seat.

He opened the folder and adjusted his glasses and began reading in a dry, precise voice. "Bequeath to my beloved daughter, Karen Elizabeth Anderson…" and a list followed. The mansion and its entire expanse. Her mother’s jewelry collection, the trust fund matured at thirty, the vintage Jaguar E-Type and all that was listed in articles three, four and five.

"I give, devise, and bequeath my estate, 'Brasswood Manor,' including all its lands and properties, to my brother, George Anderson”.

George shifted in his chair, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, looked respectfully at the ceiling.

Mr. Thorne turned a page and his voice remained flat. "Regarding Anderson Agricultural Holdings, Incorporated, herein referred to as Cibus Inc., and all associated holdings, subsidiaries, and controlling interests and all my personal properties…"He paused and adjusted his glasses again. Karen leaned forward slightly and her heart thudded once, hard, against her ribs.

The silence in the room was palpable with high expectations and hopes. It was a defining moment for whoever takes over as CEO. Something didn't feel right but she couldn't place her fingers on it. She dismissed the feeling and decided to listen patiently as Mr Thorne read on.

The question on everyone's mind: who would inherit the lion's share of Damian Anderson’s empire and CEO of Cibus Inc. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the rustle of papers and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.