It seemed appropriate that it raine

It seemed appropriate that it rained the day Evelyn said good-bye to her mother. Tears from heaven clung to the tinted glass of the limo as they drove out of the city. Evelyn hadn’t asked where they were going. She hadn’t said much of anything since waking up that morning.
Funerals were something she’d only seen from afar, cars snaking through crowded city streets, people dressed in colors of mourning. She wasn’t sure why people celebrated death, or perhaps they were celebrating life. Pearl hadn’t lived a life of greatness and she hoped it would all be over soon.
Lucian seemed to think this was something she needed. Maybe he was right. Her world was small, filled with only a handful of people. Pearl had been there from the beginning, and losing her was like saying good-bye to a part of herself.
When they arrived at the estate, Evelyn was confused. Lucian didn’t offer explanations. He simply held her hand and gave her a comforting squeeze from time to time.
Dugan parked the car and greeted them with a somber nod. Other cars lined the long drive, and she hesitated when she realized they wouldn’t be alone. Lucian’s strength enveloped her as he guided her into the house.
Lucy, dressed in her maid’s uniform, but with a black armband, opened the door and softly whispered her condolences. Evelyn’s shoes clicked over the marble tile and the silence struck her as odd. She knew they weren’t alone.
Beneath her sleeveless black wrap dress, her skin prickled. She didn’t want to see Pearl again. Her mother’s lifeless eyes had haunted her for days, and Evelyn just wanted to forget. They approached a set of French pocket doors that led to another den, and Lucian turned to her.
“Are you ready?”
She hadn’t known what to expect so there was no way to prepare. She nodded and he slid the doors open; the soft whisper of aged wood and gears wasn’t loud enough to bring her back to earth.
She turned and sucked in a breath. In front of the large paned window was a polished coffin. The wood was dark and glossy. Brushed pewter rails ran along the trim. Her eyes devoured the detail of the casket so as not to see the body lying inside. There was no one else in the room.
He took her hand and helped her cross the threshold. With each step, her world closed in. The walls fell away and her vision shimmered. Where was Pearl?
They stopped walking and she realized it was because she was crying. Lucian gave her a few moments and then, drawn, like a butterfly to a bloom, she stepped closer to see the woman before her. No, it was not Pearl. It was her mother.
Gone were the lines of time and marks of tension in her face. Her skin appeared slightly flushed, vibrant in a way that Evelyn didn’t recognize. Her hair was done and her lips held a serene pose. Her fingers were clean, and wrapped in her palm was a beaded crucifix more valuable than anything her mother had ever held.
Evelyn’s lips parted as she took in this image of the woman who raised her. She was dressed in a divine pink suit. An ivory blanket covered her feet. She looked like a sleeping angel. She looked . . . peaceful.
Her fingers trembled as she slowly reached to touch her. A gasp echoed in her ears as the coldness beneath her fingers penetrated her foggy mind. She looked so young. This was how she should have appeared in life, Evelyn decided. It was astounding, how happy seeing her mother this way made her. Never before had she seen Pearl at rest, she realized.
For as difficult as Evelyn’s life had been, Pearl’s was as well. She’d fought every day against a monster no one else could see. The monster had won, but perhaps this was Pearl’s victory. Rest. Eternal, uninterrupted rest.
“There is an ancient Chinese belief,” Lucian said quietly. “That when dragons collide, pearls fall from the sky.”
A dragon had destroyed her mother, and now she looked like a fallen angel. “Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispered through tears.
He squeezed her hand. “If you’re ready, the others will join us.”
Again, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She nodded silently.
Lucian left her with her mother and opened the pocket doors. Isadora was the first to enter. She stepped into the room with ethereal grace and came to Evelyn’s side. Her kiss was soft upon her cheek and her hands warm.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Evelyn.”
Evelyn nodded. Isadora’s perfect long fingers grazed Pearl’s hands, and she watched in awe as Lucian’s sister shut her eyes as though praying for a woman she never met. It was strange, seeing someone mourn for Pearl, but that is what they all did.
One by one, guests entered the den and paid their condolences. Toni, Jamie, Parker, Nick, the girls from the salon . . . it was surreal to see these people in Lucian’s private home. There were no rivalries or politics in those moments, only grace.
After everyone came through to offer his or her sympathy, Isadora returned. She whispered to Lucian and then came up to Evelyn and smiled sadly. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting in the hall.”
Ready for what? Evelyn looked to Lucian as Isadora turned away and quietly shut the doors. “It’s time to say good-bye,” he said softly.
Something protested inside her. It was a little girl waiting for her mom, the one who never gave up hoping she’d someday come around. Blinking back tears, she soothed the child who lived in her heart and finally admitted this was how it had to be.
Leaning over the casket, her lips pressed into her mother’s cool cheek. “I love you, Momma. I always will.”
Lucian walked her to the doors and Isadora waited quietly. “I’ll be with you soon. Go with my sister,” he said.
She didn’t want to part from him, but allowed Isadora to take her hand and lead her away. They walked through the house and came to the back door, facing the gardens and pool.
“Here, put these on,” Isadora said, handing her a pair of dainty black flats.
Evelyn did as she was told and followed Lucian’s sister out into the balmy air. The rain had stopped and the sun gave breath to the ground as it steamed. The earth was soggy beneath her feet as they stepped off the cobblestone path.
In the distance, over a knoll of emerald blades of grass, she spotted the silhouettes of people waiting. There was a willow tree luffing in the stiff breeze, and the heavy scent of lilacs filled the air. Isadora held her hand as they climbed the hill.
When they reached the top, she realized where they were. Beneath the tree stood a stone carved with angels. She couldn’t read the engraved writing, but knew the grave belonged to Lucian’s mother. This was where Pearl would forever rest.
The somber faces of those who’d come into the den smiled softly, but not everyone was there. The men were all absent except for one she didn’t recognize. From somewhere in the distance pipes began to play, and her heart raced with unsure expectancy.
Cresting the hill, several figures came into view, suited black silhouettes of strength. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Lucian. Behind him were Shamus, Parker, Nick, and Slade. They were carrying her mother’s casket.
When they reached the top, the casket was placed within a nest of flowers, and Lucian relieved Isadora of her duties. His hand curled around hers as he stepped close. The man she hadn’t recognized began to speak.
“God our Father, Your power brings us birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by Your command, we return to dust . . .”
Evelyn listened but did not hear what was being said. The sense of losing someone she never had was peculiar and difficult to comprehend. Relief that this was where she would always be, only a short walk away from where she sometimes slept, struck her like an unfamiliar comfort that eased the unending search her life had been conditioned to perform. She’d be safe, blanketed in the belly of the earth, a garden for flowers to grow. There’d be no time, only peace. And for the first time ever, Evelyn let her worries for her mother go.
A rose was placed in her hand. Lucian led her to the casket. She could read the word engraved in the plaque. It simply said Pearl. There was a solitary white mollusk embedded in the pewter above her name. It was breathtaking.
They placed their flowers on the casket and walked away in silence. The scent of lilacs imprinted on her mind. They were Lucian’s mother’s favorite, and every year her mother would now share in their beauty, as they’d come to bloom. Strange that Pearl had been gifted the same standard of rest as a woman like Mrs. Patras.
The guests didn’t return to the house with them. Evelyn had no concept of time. A meal was set for only the two of them on the terrace in the gardens. Her fingers picked at her food, but no taste touched her tongue. Lucian watched her but said very little.
He was right. She needed this closure and embraced the sad peace that came in its wake. Losing Pearl was like breaking away from who she had always been. She was a tired balloon cut from its string, floating on to places untold. But Lucian would be there with her, always, making sure she never floated alone.