Eyes on Iris

2. Cruel Thief

“Tell me, Iris, why do you still get the newspaper? It’s not like something big would happen in a town like Walford. We don’t even need the paper to learn about what’s happening to the people around here.”

Bella has a point. Walford was indeed a small town and everybody knew everyone. It wouldn’t be hard to learn about what someone was doing; to whom they got married; and who was dating whom.

When Iris got divorced, it was the hottest topic for almost three months. It took her a lot of courage to go out as if she was not being crucified for being a divorcee. People would ask if she was okay while others gossiped. However, there were some who were also sincere in wishing her well.

On the other hand, the unwanted attention gave her business some exposure. Coming home after five long years, Iris had a difficult time mending the ties she had overlooked. After taking over the management of the farm her father had left, she was anxious in the case that the workers would opt to quit since she never had experience of running the place. Fortunately, they were loyal to her dad and had given her the chance to learn the ropes of supervising the ranch.

Iris shrugged. “I don’t know. It just makes me feel like I’m in a better time.”

Bella frowned. “You sound like my dad. He’d say papers were real records and can never be erased, unlike those on the internet. Oh well, I guess older people prefer prints since most of them really don’t enjoy browsing their gadgets.”

“Your dad has a point. As for me, I believe it’s good to keep track of what’s happening in town. If we listen to gossip, we might get ourselves in trouble. The newspaper, on the other hand, has proof and is grounded. It’s better to be practical.”

Her best friend clicked her tongue.

“But isn’t it a waste to keep producing prints? I mean, those are trees!”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me? There are a lot of recycling methods now when it comes to producing paper. Stop blabbering, Morgan’s listening.”

Iris took a sunny side up, bacon, and toast, filling Morgan’s plate after settling in her seat behind the round dining table.

“Mom, I can do it.”

Iris chuckled. “Oops, sorry. I’m just used to doing this for you, darling.”

“You don’t have to. I’m a big girl now. Instead, let me do it for you.” Morgan rose from her chair, took her mother’s plate, and placed slices of bacon, scrambled egg, and toast.

The gesture melted Iris’ heart. She felt like it was only yesterday when she carried her daughter in her womb. Now, Morgan was already serving her breakfast!

Indeed, time flies.

Whenever she looked back, Iris couldn’t believe that, despite the collapse of her marriage, she had received the biggest blessing of her life. It was Morgan, her flesh and blood.

Iris had sworn that even if the sky fell, she would hold it up for her daughter.

God, she loved her so much.

“Me too, please,” Bella asked brightly, which Morgan happily obliged.

“When I get older, I will cook your food too,” declared the little girl ecstatically, beaming.

“We’ll be looking forward to that, darling.”

In peace, the trio relished their food. For dessert, they enjoyed the batch of freshly baked chocolate cookies Bella had made that morning.

It was Morgan’s favorite.

Iris was reminded of a squirrel as she stared at her daughter munching on the treat because she found them adorable whenever they stuffed their mouths full.

“By the way, I read the obituaries. Mr Kingston passed away this morning,” Bella spoke, breaking the silence while spreading strawberry jam on a piece of toast after finishing her cookie.

Iris paused and blinked a few times as her hand halted in the middle of grabbing another piece of cookie. She tried to absorb the sudden information but failed. After all, the Old Mr Kingston in her memory was a strong and healthy person.

“Come again?” Iris prompted, unwilling to believe her ears.

She caught Bella swallowing hard when she stole a glance in her direction. If Iris did not know that her best friend’s family had no deep connection with the Kingstons, she would think that the nonchalance in the woman’s voice was outright rude, speaking about the death of a man close to her heart.

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

Giving up the cookie, she reached out for the paper, flipped through the pages, and checked the said announcement. The information was indeed printed. The address for the funeral reception was written, too.

Iris gulped, feeling cold as if a bucket of iced water was thrown over her head. Her heart wrenched in pain while she skimmed through the brief biography of the deceased. It was so sudden that she did not know how to react.

A moment later, she took a series of deep breaths to recompose herself, filled her glass with water, and chugged it down. By the time she calmed, tears were already brimming in her eyes as the mixed emotions surged inside her.

Death was normal.

It was the eminent end of every living being.

It was a known fact.

Yet, it would always be different if it involved a person close to one’s heart.

“Hunter… I hope he’s okay,” she whispered under her breath.

Iris’ heart was in turmoil. Hunter was the childhood friend she had not seen for almost a decade. As the one and only kin of the Old Mr Kingston, he always received a significant amount of attention from Walford locals. She could still remember when she first came back to the countryside and heard a lot of gossip about him leaving and severing ties with his father.

Though the scandal took the town by storm, Iris knew better than to believe the hearsays. Whether it was the truth or not, she was genuinely concerned about how Hunter would cope with the loss of a loved one.

She had been there…

She knew that losing a parent, especially the last remaining family member, was a big emotional blow. For an aloof man like Hunter, who rarely expressed his feelings, it would be twice as hard.

Thinking about this made her heart ache. The father and son were separated by a conflict. Now, the wall between life and death can only be crossed by leaving the world itself.

“We’ll attend the funeral,” she announced, wiping away the beads of tears from the corner of her eyes.

“All right. The entire town would certainly be there to pay their respects. Mr Kingston’s hard work provided countless jobs for the locals,” Bella agreed readily.

Dodging her best friend’s inquisitive look, Iris focused her gaze back on her empty plate. She was not ready to divulge the story about it – not when Morgan was listening.

“He was a great man,” Iris murmured somberly.

Quietly, Iris watched Morgan slurp her milk, oblivious to the gloomy atmosphere. The little girl was staring at them with a complicated look in her eyes as a crease appeared on her small forehead.

“But Mommy, what is a funeral?” Morgan probed innocently.

For a four-year-old child, it was certainly a foreign word.

“Shh… Not now, Morgan,” Bella hushed.

When Morgan settled back in her seat and continued eating her food, Iris breathed in relief. She did not know how to explain something so dark and tragic to the young girl.

In fact, she too, despite her personal experience of losing both her parents, found it difficult to come up with the right way to console her muddled mind.

Mr Kingston was her godfather, her father’s best friend, and business partner. He was a kind-hearted man who earned the respect and love of all of Walford’s community. Regardless of his wealth, he had kept his feet on the ground and helped countless families in town.

Iris let out a remorse-filled sigh.

It seemed like it was only yesterday when she would go and play at Kingston’s ranch, having horse-riding races with Hunter. She remembered how Old Mr Kingston would always tell her he wished he had a daughter like her. He had always been sweet and loving, spoiling her like she was his own.

Good times. Good old times.

Death was indeed a cruel thief. At a snap of a finger, the people you know, and care about could be gone – forever, like they never existed at all.

I should at least bid him farewell for the last time. I owe this to him.