“How fair ye, lass?” she asked, lifting her eyes to Cleo’s.
“I do not know.”
Mrs. McGrath nodded in understanding. “It has been a difficult day.”
“Yes, it has, and I do not quite know what to do with all of the emotions that it has brought.”
Mrs. McGrath rose to her feet, grabbed the professor’s copy ofTheBook of Common Prayer,and took Cleo’s hand. “I have an idea. It is a bit late for it, but I think that we can manage it.” She led Cleo to the front door and motioned for her to don her outer attire as she did so herself. She took the lantern from the table where it always sat when the professor had needed to attend to matters after dark and the two of them left the house.
“Where are we going?” Cleo asked, confused.
“Tae yer faither’s graveside. Ye were unable tae lay him tae rest properly, and we cannae move him tae be with yer mother without people noticing and returning him tae his present grave, but ye can say a proper goodbye.”
Mrs. McGrath pulled Cleo through the streets bustling along in the lantern’s light in the same no-nonsense way that she did in the daylight as if she were only out to visit the shops. Cleo admired Mrs. McGrath’s bravery, as she herself would never have dreamt of going out after dark in such a manner without her father before his death. Now, instead of feeling more afraid as she thought she would have with her father’s murderer running about unidentified, she felt braver and more determined than she had ever been.
When they reached the graveyard, Cleo took the lead and showed Mrs. McGrath where her father had been laid to rest. Mrs. McGrath tsked in disapproval of her beloved charge being laid to rest among criminals. “It is nae decent,” she grumbled under her breath. “I will be giving that minister a piece o’ my mind, and my rolling pin up the side o’ his head for good measure.”
“I would very much like to see that,” Cleo mused as she knelt down and placed her hand on the freshly laid dirt of the grave.
Mrs. McGrath handed CleoThe Common Book of Prayeropen to the pages containing funerary prayers. “Read it aloud, lass. Let yerself place yer grief in the hands o’ the Lord and leave it there with Him. Let us both say a proper goodbye.”
Cleo held the lantern up over the pages to illuminate the words that had laid to rest so many others before them.
‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. St. John 11. 25, 26
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another. Job 19. 25 - 27
We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. 1 St. Timothy 6.7; Job 1.21’
At this last verse, Cleo snorted bitterly. “I cannot do this.”
Mrs. McGrath turned with a raised brow in inquiry. “It is the proper way.”
“I understand that this is the custom, but I find little relief in its words. I am sorry, Mrs. McGrath, but I cannot say,‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’I cannot say it and mean it. If anything, it makes me more bitter than when we started. I refuse to believe that my father being murdered and then that murder being dismissed as a suicide, to be the will of God. I cannot do it and I will not accept it.” It took all of Cleo’s restraint not to throw the book down into the dirt.
Mrs. McGrath, seeing this, gently took the book from Cleo’s hands. “I am sorry that it does nae bring ye the comfort that I had hoped, but what about the first part. What about the words that proclaim,‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’Do ye nae find that tae be a comfort at least. I ken that yer faither and maither both believed in such things. It was what helped yer faither tae bear the loss o’ yer maither, the idea that he would one day see her again.”
Cleo shook her head. “I do not know what I believe anymore. All is not as it should be. I feel as if my very world has been wrenched out from beneath me with as little effort as a tablecloth being pulled from a full dining table and the pain in my heart is akin to the crystal goblets that fall shattered upon the floor. It is a terrible living pain and I do not know how I am to bear it. It hurts to even breathe,” she sobbed and fell to her knees, digging her fingers into the loosened dirt, balling her hands into fists as if she could hold on to her father’s very soul with enough determination.
“Take thy plague away from me: I am even consumed by means of thy heavy hand,”Mrs. McGrath quoted from the book in her hands.
“Yes,” Cleo sobbed. “I am plagued, consumed by grief, and I cannot escape it.”
“I am sorry, lass. I did nae mean tae cause ye more pain. I had hoped tae help ye, tae honor your faither the way he would have wished tae be honored.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. McGrath, but I cannot do this. I thought I could, but I cannot. Please take me home.”
“Aye, lass. We will find another way tae say goodbye tae yer faither in time and in a way that will bring ye comfort.”
“The only thing that will possibly bring me comfort is to see my father’s killer hanging from the end of a rope.”
“Then that is what we will do. Fear nae, lass, we will find a way, nae matter what it takes.”
Chapter 8
The next day, Cleo awoke with a terrible headache and a deep sense of shame that she had so selfishly denied Mrs. McGrath her preferred rituals to honor the dead. Mrs. McGrath had known Cleo’s father long before Cleo had ever been born. The cook had helped to raise both Henry and Caroline and had loved them as her own children. It would not have cost Cleo anything to have allowed her such a paltry request, and yet she had not been able to do it. When Mrs. McGrath entered her room with breakfast, Cleo apologized.
“I am so very sorry for my behavior last evening,” she murmured, unable to meet the cook’s eyes.
