by Grea Warner
“I think you should take out the last part.”
“The part about not bothering us?” He scrunched his face and burrowed his eyebrows. “That’s the main point.”
“They still will.” We both knew a polite request wouldn’t hinder the efforts of the media. “But I don’t think you need to include me in the statement.” When his creased face jolted back, I explained. “Mentioning me will agitate all the—” I stopped myself and attempted to find the right words, trying to be the compassionate woman I was raised to be, especially when talking about someone who had passed away. “Kari-lovers ... fans,” I decided on. “I’m still persona non grata where they are concerned.”
He denied it with an immediate punctuation of his words. “You didn’t do anything. Kari and I were divorced before you and I even met.”
“You know it doesn’t matter to some people. They’ll feel like it’s a stab and not needed.” I tried using a calm voice to contrast his. And it wasn’t like I was completely hated—most Singer Spotlight fans adored our love story, from my audition to our tweets to the live show where we revealed our relationship.
He shook his head ever so slightly and his words came out just as defined as his previous ones. “I had to pretend—deny—you weren’t a part of my life before. I will never do it again.”
“Ry ...” I partially sighed at the sentimentality of his words. But that was the end of my rebuttal as an announcement soared through the airport’s speakers, letting us know it was our turn to board.
“All right, kiddos.” He looked at Sallie and Joel, innocently playing a traveling tic-tac-toe game my parents had given them. “We’re heading home.” Surely submitting the release, he pressed a button on his tablet, powered the device down, and took my hand.
***
We had tried to keep the exact details of our nuptials private so there wouldn’t be any interference from press on our sacred day. They knew of the date but not the location nor when we would be traveling. It had worked for the most part. Until, of course, the news of Kari’s death brought an even more powerful star-studded spotlight on everything. So, unfortunately, the clowns and the circus grew intense once we touched down in LA. There was press at the airport, people at the entrance of Ryan’s neighborhood, and phone calls galore.
For the remainder of Thursday and all of Friday, we stayed holed up in our home while protecting and sheltering the kids as best we could. We steered them away from all forms of media and occupied them with games and such. And while we kept the dialogue open for talking about Kari and their feelings, neither child seemed to say much. Reality hadn’t quite set in, I was afraid.
In a weird way, keeping busy helped Ryan. He was in constant contact with someone—his family, his staff, and Maks, who kept him in the loop of the funeral arrangements. As first presented, the Hyneses were doing things quickly and with as little hoopla as possible, considering Kari’s celebrity status. Ryan and I both knew it was an attempt to sweep the cause of death under the rug. They didn’t want their shining-star daughter’s reputation tainted, even in death. There would be no public viewing. The immediate family would see Kari privately on Saturday morning at the church, followed directly after by a friends and family service.
But, once again, it didn’t really work. The press had their eyes and ears on everything. And the more private the family wanted things, the more the media persisted. Speculation ran ramped over the cause of Kari’s death. The combination of her being a healthy thirty-two-year-old and the coincidence of the timing of her death definitely led the guesses in the right direction. Headlines read: Did Kari never get over Ryan? Was the wedding the final nail? How could this have happened to America’s sweetheart?
Because of that, as well as Ryan being the connection to Kari’s most precious family—the kids—he was hounded nearly nonstop for some kind of comment. By Friday evening, when he couldn’t take the persistent pressure of the celebrity world anymore, he, uncharacteristically, threw his phone across the room. Luckily, it was the family room and the plush carpet allowed the device to land softly. And ... the kids had just gone to sleep.
“Sorry,” he said as I closed my eyes and nodded slowly. “I don’t even want Joel and Sallie to be a part of this anymore.”
I took a soothing breath, hoping he would mimic it. “They have to be. You know that.”
“I—” His low grunt stopped his words. “Uhhh!” After calming down a little bit, he asked me, “What do you want to do?’
I did my own internal “uhhh” to his question. I was so torn about attending the funeral. I wanted to go so I could support Ryan and the kids, but I also wondered if it was my place or even if I was going to be a distraction. We had talked about it throughout the day, and I knew I needed to make up my mind.
I turned his question around. “What do you want me to do?” I started to say “honestly,” but he interrupted me.
“Bethany, shit, I can’t think. I can’t make one more decision. Can’t you—”
Wow. I knew for sure then that he was worked up. For one thing, he very rarely swore and, for another, he was getting testy with me ... an even bigger rarity.
“Ryan ...” I managed a reassuring voice. When he tilted his head as if he wanted to crack his neck, I walked up to him. His body was tense as I put my hands tentatively up to his cheeks and kissed him. “I want to be there with the three of you ... for the three of you.” The words came out of my mouth and, admittedly, they scared me a little. “I want the kids to know I respected their mom.” I had, especially as a vocalist. “And if there is any trouble with the press or whoever else ...” I paused—Ryan knew my relationship with Kari’s mother was just as tumultuous as his. “If there’s any problem, I’ll leave.”
“No, you won’t,” he replied decisively. “And thanks.”
“Because you want me there?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, although I knew up to that point, he was purposefully trying not to steer me in a particular direction. “And thanks for not flipping a dang coin to make up your mind.” He tapped me on my nose with his index finger.
“Ha!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t even think of it. Do you have our—”
“No.”
I managed a full smile. He had our coin. He always carried it. It had become another one of “our things.” But the heads/tails game had always only been used in jest when I couldn’t make a simple decision like what to have for dinner or what movie to watch ... not for something so serious.
“Good thing I didn’t need it when you proposed,” I teased.
“Lenay ...” He sighed. “I’m sure the past couple of days have had you tossing that quarter around and around in your mind.”
“Of course not,” I said legitimately, and then added with a sweet sarcasm, “But the dartboard with your picture on it ...”
He managed the slightest of laughs. “I still don’t doubt you made one after our first meeting.” His phone vibrating across the room halted our at-ease conversation.
“Leave it,” I insisted.
“I should probably get it.” He closed his eyes and took a step.
But I denied him getting the phone with a cute distraction. “Lyric! Lyric, baby. Come.” I patted my leg. “Come here.”
After returning to Los Angeles, we had retrieved the family goldendoodle from the overnight pet boarder. The one-year-old pup was supposed to have stayed through the wedding and honeymoon. And we could have housed him there, regardless of our return. But getting him back seemed like a positive idea for everyone, and, at that moment, particularly for Ryan.
I heard the little puppy feet right before I saw the dog himself. “Go get Ryan. Get Ryan, baby. Give him kisses.”
Ryan shook his head at me but picked up the dog at his feet and accepted the loving licks. I melded onto Ryan’s side, getting in on some of the puppy action myself. The buzzing coming from the phone stopped and, for a moment, we were actually at peace.
***
Geez, the knots
in my stomach would not unravel even in the slightest. I didn’t regret going to the church and the service. In my heart, I knew it was the right thing to do. But it didn’t make me feel any more comfortable or secure.
My father’s job as a minister had him consoling and attending plenty of funeral services throughout his career, but I had not. Both sides of my family were relatively healthy and hearty. The only deaths I had been around were my dad’s dad—but I was pretty young when he passed—and a fellow student during my high school senior year who was killed in a car accident. And there hadn’t been a viewing.
After getting past the security guard hired to wean out the press who were beginning to gather outside, Ryan, the kids, and I walked into the somber setting of the church. The clergyman greeted us in the narthex. He told us what to expect from the service and offered some supposed comforting words. But he seemed stiff, and it made me appreciate my dad that much more.
Standing with her husband, Irene Hynes was fixing a flower arrangement when we entered the massive, towering main chapel. By some weird sense, she knew to turn, look our direction and, consequently, give me a pinched-face sneer. I pursed my lips and blew out some air. My every encounter with Kari’s mom had been similar. Sadly, I had expected nothing less at her daughter’s funeral. Dressed in a too-tight black dress and a gaudy display of pearls, she held out her arms and the two Thompson children did a bit of a jog to greet her.
Ryan, in his charcoal suit, which matched the tired color under his eyes, was still by my side. He was standing, but it was almost as if he was comatose. I followed his stare ... straight to the open casket at the end of the aisle near the altar. He started walking that direction, and I just let him go. I knew it was something he needed to do by himself. She had been his wife and the mother of his children, and I did respect his feelings.
I teetered in place ... not because of the black high heels I was wearing, but because I felt a little in limbo land—nowhere to go or anyone to be with. The children had their grandparents. And Ryan? I watched as he put his hand up to what I believed was Kari’s face, but I couldn’t see being so far away.
And then, after a moment, he turned and walked back to me. “I need to get the kids up there before people arrive.” He noted why we had purposefully arrived to the nearly vacant church a little early.
“Okay.” I felt like I was failing him with my limited verbal response, but I was at a complete loss as to what to do.
Leaving my side once again, he walked over to Sallie, Joel, and his former in-laws. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I did see Ed Hynes pat Ryan’s back in a positive kind of way. And then Ryan and the kids were starting to walk past me and toward the casket. But Sallie, in a dark dress that did not match her normally bright personality, suddenly stopped. She didn’t move.
“Sals, come on, sweetie, let’s go see Mommy.” Ryan let go of Joel’s hand and bent to Sallie’s level.
She didn’t hesitate. She just looked him in the eyes and spoke her truth. “I don’t want to.”
“Tink ...” He called her by the special fairytale name only Ryan used. “We talked about this. I know how brave and strong you are.”
“Daddy, I don’t want to.”
Ryan had spoken with both of the kids that morning and right before we entered the church about what to expect. They had seemed okay. But then again, quiet was not really okay when it came to either of the Thompson children. As if to stake her claim and determination, Sallie then clung to my side. I soothed her silky, long, blonde hair and raised my shoulders slightly to Ryan. His gaze bounced from me to Sallie to Joel to his ex-in-laws greeting people at the entry. I was already beginning to understand that close friends and family might mean a hundred plus to the Hynes clan.
“Stay with her?” he asked me, then kissed the top of his daughter’s head and reclaimed his son’s hand.
Sallie and I both watched silently as Ryan and Joel made their way to the front of the chapel. Ryan helped his son stand on the kneeling stool and peer into the casket. I could see they were talking, but they were too far away for me to hear the words. In contrast, Sallie, next to me, said nothing.
When Ryan ruffled Joel’s head, brought him to his side, and got him down, Sallie finally spoke. “Joel did it. He made Daddy proud.”
Looking at the little girl, I realized that all her talent and smarts couldn’t get her through the greatest challenge she had ever faced. “No matter what, Sallie. No matter what. Your dad and mom and brother and me are very proud of you. Stay here or—”
Taking my hand, she slowly, and then with determination, started us up the aisle. I hadn’t intended to see Kari up close. It was something I believed others needed, but I didn’t think it was my place. Regardless, there I was, on my way. Ryan and Joel had just taken a few steps away and were now taking turns hugging Kari’s brother. When my fiancé spotted Sallie and me approaching the casket, he did a half step toward us, but I subtly shook him off. I didn’t know if it was right or not, but the little girl was squeezing my hand so hard, I feared if there was even the slightest of disruptions, Sallie would back down. And if I provided her the confidence she needed to get through that moment, then I was blessed to do it. Thankfully, Ryan could see it, too, and nodded his approval and appreciation.
I let Sallie climb the little step to see her mom. I couldn’t help but wonder what Ryan’s ex would have thought of the scene—her sweet daughter relying on me ... even simply me being there. I hadn’t been Kari’s favorite person or vice versa, but that was part of the expected dynamic of our relationship. Hopefully, she was at peace and could see what I saw—a beautiful young girl, making a choice to be her own brave self.
“Mommy is so pretty,” Sallie spoke with such a softness, I almost didn’t hear her.
But it was true. Someone had done Kari’s makeup beautifully, and she was dressed in angelic white with royal blue accents, which I thought mimicked the color of Ryan’s eyes. She looked like the rockstar version of herself, not the casual mother who picked up the kids, or the haggard and upset woman from the year before who had struggled with prescription drugs.
“Sallie, do you want to say anything?”
“Can I tell her I love her?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
After doing just that, she gave me a hug and scurried into her dad’s waiting arms. Ryan pressed at his watery eye behind Sallie’s back and told her how strong she was. He then secured my hand in his and reintroduced me to Maks, who, besides eye color, had the same facial features and similar hair hue of his sole sibling. We had been in each other’s company before for the kids’ birthday celebrations. And through those limited interactions, I knew Maks, thankfully, seemed to take on the kinder mannerisms of the male side of the Hynes family.
Ryan’s attention was pulled as more and more funeral attendees started to filter in. He and Kari obviously once had a life together. So, he knew her friends, family, and, of course, members of the music world. He spoke with them quickly and considerately when they approached him, but he was extremely mindful of the kids. Everyone had the purest of attentions when it came to speaking with Sallie and Joel, but some weren’t used to talking with children, especially during such an emotional time.
I simply did a lot of nodding. I was in Kari’s world more than ever, and I didn’t feel comfortable at all. My head was starting to hurt ... and not because of the head bobs. It was pure tension.
During one conversation, I offered to take Joel on a little walk around the interior of the church. He was getting particularly bouncy, and with the service about ready to begin, I thought it was important for him to get his energy out as best he could in the limited space. Sallie, in contrast, wanted to remain with her dad. Joel and I checked out the multitude of lit candles, an empty side room, and the bathrooms, which Joel claimed he did not need to use. When we were passing near the front, I heard a familiar voice trying to gain admittance from security. It wasn’t any of the neighbors. They were not on the limite
d guest list—although Ryan had received some form of condolence from each of them in the days prior. It was—
“Uncle Dylan,” Joel called out to Ryan’s older brother.
When both Dylan and the guard turned their attention to Joel, I said, “He’s—” I looked beyond to spot Dylan’s wife and son, too. “They’re with us.”
I am pretty sure it was Joel’s identification and not my declaration that allowed Ryan’s brother and family admittance into the church because I hadn’t exactly been invited either. I was with Ryan. Regardless, there was no denying little Joel Thompson’s embrace of his paternal uncle.
“I don’t think Ryan was expecting you,” I said to my should-be brother-in-law.
I didn’t just think. I knew Ryan wasn’t expecting them. Ryan had made a point of telling his family not to come. There was no need, especially when they had to travel so far.
As if reading my mind, Dylan spoke of their home near Napa. “It’s a few hours or so drive. I get the rest of the clan not coming in from Iowa, but we wanted to show our support.”
I wrapped my arms around Dylan as Joel was doing the same with his aunt and cousin. “Thanks, Dylan. He’ll ... he’ll be glad you’re all here.” I realized how much I was, too. It was nice to have someone there—besides the grieving kids and Ryan—who knew and actually liked me.
Music suddenly soared through the speakers and a church representative spoke softly to us. It was time. It was time to find Ryan and take our seats. The solemn reason why we were all gathered was set to officially begin.
Chapter Four
After the eulogies, tributes, and prayers were delivered, Kari’s own voice soared through the speakers. One of her older ballads, the lyrics seemed to take on a whole new, sadder meaning as the pallbearers stationed themselves alongside her casket. Ryan leaned forward and stroked both of the kids’ hair as the body was lifted and started its way past us. On the insistence of Irene, Sallie and Joel were seated with her, Ed, and Maks in the front pew because they were “real family.” Ryan had been “permitted” to sit behind them, and I wasn’t even acknowledged, except by the only person who truly mattered, who held my hand during most of the service. Kari’s tune couldn’t drown out the sound of the sniffling, which, although it had occurred on occasion throughout the service, the finality of the march down the aisle seemed to bring it to a greater height. I pushed away the selfish thought of how I should have been walking down an aisle full of joy at that very moment and refocused on the two precious Thompson offspring who looked more confused than sad.