Rayna Jo turned on the cream tufted vanity stool and faced her eldest daughter. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
Devon’s expression shifted to one of pity before becoming more determined.
“You can. We can. You’re not alone, because we are all in this together. God gives us strength to handle the things we think will break us. Isn’t that what you’ve always told us?”
She’d told Devon that in regard to her breakup with Oscar. Because while her daughter had loved Oscar, her desire for New York had pushed them apart, though it hadn’t been an easy decision for Devon.
“Let me help you with that,” Devon said, coming into the room.
Devon picked up the strand of pearls given to Rayna Jo by her parents on her sweet sixteen, and her daughter placed them around her neck.
“Perfect,” Devon said, her hands smoothing over Rayna Jo’s shoulders to gently squeeze.
“Are they still outside?” she asked.
“The reporters? One or two. Adam’s statement sent most of them away with a few quotes. I think, once the funeral is over, they’ll all be gone.”
Devon moved to the bed, and Rayna Jo watched in the mirror as her daughter gathered up her purse and the shoes she had yet to put on.
“Mama, we need to leave. Let me help you with these,” Devon said, handing over the purse before kneeling in front of Rayna Jo to slip her feet into the plain black pumps she’d chosen.
Rayna Jo felt the shoes slide onto her feet, yet when she shifted her gaze back to the mirror, the image moved eerily in the conversion thing Logan had diagnosed her with before.
She was in the present, very much so, but it still didn’t feel quite right. Still felt as though she floated a bit outside of her body.
“Done. Let’s go.”
Devon urged her up and turned her toward the exit. Along the way, they passed the double doors to Richard’s room, and she stumbled. “His gray suit. That’s the one he looked best in. I didn’t think to ask…”
“Mama, all that’s been done. Dara and I took care of it and… we chose a navy suit. It’ll be fine.”
“Navy,” she mused. “Navy did make his eyes look bluer but—” No one would see his eyes. Not ever again. Or the way they would sparkle when he said something ornery. Tease her about being able to cook pretty much anything except oven rolls because she’d burn them each and every time.
Devon’s hold on Rayna Jo’s arm firmed, and her daughter tugged her along once more. Dara waited at the bottom of the stairs, looking stunning in a simple black dress and flats. Dara wasn’t one to wear dresses or heels, but in honor of her father… “You girls look beautiful.”
Her voice broke again and Devon patted her hand.
“Come on, Mama. Let’s get this done.”
A black limo waited outside for them. Rayna Jo and Devon headed toward the car while Dara locked up behind them.
Rayna Jo looked around and saw several reporters aiming cameras in their direction. She quickly ducked her head and turned her face.
“It’s okay, Mama. The worst is almost over,” Devon said.
Almost over, she repeated silently.
But was it?
The service was simple but beautiful. The girls had done a wonderful job with the arrangements. As Rayna Jo sat there observing, she found herself grateful that she hadn’t had to make such decisions.
The Babes sat on the row beside and behind her and the girls, their support nearly tangible as people worked their way up the line to pay their last respects.
She’d stood for a while but then woven on her feet, and the girls had made her sit to receive the rest of those gathered. Oliver Beck and his wife were among those in attendance, along with the guard who’d been in the accident that night and his wife.
She was touched by the gesture. That the famous actor would take time out of his day to attend when he undoubtedly had better things to do. Along with getting her memory back, Rayna Jo remembered the details. How Richard had lost control and crossed into oncoming traffic.
The accident was Richard’s fault entirely, though the cause of death had been a massive heart attack. As to the other, more sordid details, well, she tried not to think of them.