My Savior's Secret

Chapter 3

The days leading to the visitation melted away like first snowfall on dry pavement. I slept like a bear. Probably slept through both days, uninterrupted except the occasional check-in by Rego and Mildred and invitations to eat. A loud knock this morning woke me fully from hibernation, and I groggily got up to answer the door.  

A willowy woman in a metallic sheath dress, tall heels, and straight honey-glossed hair with layers of toffee in a high ponytail stood across me. If it wasn’t for the pout sitting above her contoured jaw and frigid blue stare, her beauty was that of an angel.  

“You look horrible,” she said, voice as feminine and assertive as she looked. She held out folded black clothes. “No wonder mom called me over.”  

“Who are you?”  

She put a hand on her hip. “Rubi. First, take a shower and wear this.”  

“Thanks, but I brought my own.” I began to close the door.  

She stopped the door with her glossy grey heel. “You don’t have a choice.” She put the clothes in my hands. “You’re still the decadent’s daughter and a Weverin. This family values image and courtesy.”  

Weverin? Ah, this was the founding family of the clan. They had a whole town named after them.  

The dress was a plain black pooling at my knees, flutter sleeves, and a belt fastened by a gold buckle under the chest. My dripping hair left water marks on the material as I rubbed a towel through it. Rubi had returned with a bulky glass kit and approval hinted in her gaze from the mirror.  

“Much better. You got a pretty face and good body. Mom must be pleased.” It didn’t feel like a compliment. “But look at those eyebags. I thought you slept well these past few days.”  

“Sleeping and sleeping well are different.”  

“Poor you.” She brought in a chair, deposited me in front of the mirror, opened her kit revealing an excessive heap of beauty equipment and cosmetics. She blow-dried my hair, and I let her. There was something about the motion of her hands that was soothing. “Let me be straight. I don’t like you. I’m only doing this because mom begged me to.”  

“Good to know.” 

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” My parents had been ostracized by the clan, so it was sensible for people who hated them to hate me who had nothing to do with their narrow societal views. “I’m jealous of you,” she said. It was the same thing Mildred had said, but Rubi had what her mother didn’t. Vehemence.  

“I doubt that.” 

“Don’t, because not everyone has kickass parents like you.” She must know quite a bit about them. Curiosity threatened to resurface, and the whir of the hairdryer tuned out any hesitation.

"Why?"

She turned off the blow dryer and plugged in a curler. “You know how hard it is to be independent from a clan, especially if you’re from the founding family?” She wrapped a lock of my hair around the curler. “Weverins bleed clan loyalty and bloodline. You’re tied in forever.”  

“Are you saying you want out?”  

“It’s not a matter of want. You’re given unsolicited things, and in return, you give up the right to control your life.” She met my eyes in the mirror. “Your mother defied that. She found her own space out there, cutting all ties with the Weverins. She even found a way to permanently leave Etheria. Pity she came back.”  

I flicked a dark curl. “Is that commendable?”  

Rubi finished and arranged the loose curls over my shoulder. “She lived to the fullest doing what she loved with the one she loved. If that isn’t the luckiest thing ever, you tell me what is.” 

The spark of curiosity took off, but I battled against it with the sheer betrayal I felt at Rubi’s words. She lived to the fullest doing what she loved with the one she loved. Guess I’d never been in the picture. Just an accident who they deported. 

Rubi unzipped her makeup pack and moved a makeup brush over my face. “Sit still ‘cause I’m not redoing this.” It had been months since my cheeks felt the touch of makeup, since I’d left all self-indulging activities.  

The life my parents had was a secret the magnitude of an earthquake. Not a full-blown one yet, but the cracks pulled and pushed me torturously. Rubi was the first to widen those cracks, but I wasn’t throwing my life over the edge again to find emptiness.   

She applied light blush and shut the compact disc, the last item of her art. Rubi’s hands had moved like they were on a fashion mission, but my face looked surprising natural. It was probably to hide the baggy eyes and gaunt skin.  

She finished with a generous amount of perfume making me cough. “I have to show you around the house before the visitation starts.”  

When I accepted the tour, it occurred to me I was in a mansion. Thanks to Rubi’s impatience, we kept it limited to the main rooms in the family wing. The first were master bedrooms—chambers would be more fitting—and the one I spent more time in was my mother’s.  

White cloth draped the furniture, and dust particles lingered in the ray of light from a c***k in the blinded windows. It was clean but void of life and warmth. I didn’t know what I was expecting in the empty shelves and cupboards, on the clear table, and under the unlit nightlamps.  

We passed the Weverins’ multiple study rooms, lavish bathrooms, an outdoor balcony and an indoor one over the grand foyer, and then down the extravagant staircase to the banquet hall which maids were arranging for the soon-to-be visitation. Aligning the hall were cloak rooms at the foyer and discreet powder rooms at the back.  

I stopped in front of a large portrait of my mother hung on the wall. Candles decorated the socles in front of the portrait and a black-clothed table, pristine for flowers and gifts. Rubi let me take my time and we left in the echo of her clicking heels.  

Opposite to the hall was a more private living room, adjoined by a dining hall, kitchen, and bar connected to the poolside in the backyard. We skipped stepping out in the wind. 

“The door to the basement is behind the staircase,” Rubi said. “Avoid the gym since my brother staked his claim on it. Oh, also avoid my studio which was closed since I moved out.”  

“You moved out?” I wasn’t expecting her to be free of her family’s reigns after the sorry speech she’d given me.  

She retrieved her bag and coat from the cloak room. “What’s the point? I’m still living in the condo my parents gifted me.” She wore a velvet blazer and slipped on sunglasses. “As property investment freaks, there’s little they don’t own around here.”  

I folded my hands on the counter-opening of the cloak room. “It must suck living a lofty life.” 

The corners of her lips hinted up. “I won’t stick around for the funeral. My condolences in advance.”  

“Appreciated.”