Free NOT What I Was Expecting by Tallulah Anne Scott

we approached the people standing around the
general vicinity of the mausoleum.  My mother had explained to us earlier that
Eliza’s family opted to have the service graveside rather than in the church or
funeral home.  This being a smallish town, there was probably much discussion
on the wisdom of breaking with the traditional indoor service followed by the
trek over to the gravesite for burial.  Since Eliza’s brother and his wife were
from Ohio, they finalized the arrangements through the funeral home before
arriving in town. 
    Word on the street
was that the northerners were more than a little surprised to discover that we
don’t bury our dead in the ground here in South Louisiana.  It wouldn’t do to
have our loved ones washing back up to the surface after a heavy rain.  With
our moist (well, swampy) ground, that is exactly what would happen. 
Fortunately, Eliza lived in this area for the last 55 years and had the
foresight to make the majority of her funeral plans prior to her death. 
Knowing her family wasn’t from this area and the hardship that it would create
for them, her attention to the details indicated she was a practical,
thoughtful woman.  Her actions reminded me of my mother and Aunt Shirley, which
made me sad.  Being reminded they had things in common with the murdered woman
was very unsettling.  I always find funerals sad and sympathize with the
friends and family of the departed.  The thoughts linking Eliza and the sisters
in my mind brought more sadness than I had expected at a stranger’s funeral.
    “Are you all right,
dear?”
    I’d been so lost
in thought I didn’t notice CeCe had moved on and was currently mingling with
the other mourners.  Nor had I noticed the elderly gentleman approach until he
spoke and snapped me back to the present time.
    “You looked upset,
and I wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to help.  Sometimes talking
helps.  I’m Barney,” he explained as he introduced himself.
    Although he had a
few decades on me, this man had obviously been very handsome in his day.  Wait
a minute.  Did he say his name was Barney?  Luke was talking to Fry about his
Uncle Barney.  Coincidence or the same person?  That would explain his
‘good-looking back in the day’ appearance.
    “No, I’m fine. 
But I’m so sorry for your loss.  Were you and Miss Eliza close?” I asked.  I
silently reminded myself this was not the time or place to ask him if he did,
in fact, have a nephew named Luke, and if said nephew was looking to settle
down with a good woman, have 2.2 children, and maybe even a German Shepherd
named Hansel?
    “She was a dear
friend, and I’ll miss her tremendously,” he responded.  As he spoke, a little
moisture developed in the corners of his eyes.
    Oh, dear.  I’m
afraid I inherited my mother’s bluntness at times, and when it comes to
comforting others, that is not a good thing.  It works with CeCe, but she has
known me all her life and can read my intentions between the words that tend to
come out somewhat tactless.  This man doesn’t know me and can’t be expected to
make allowances for my gene pool, so I tried to think of what CeCe would say. 
I got nothing.
    “There, there,” I
awkwardly attempted to comfort him as I patted his arm and looked around for
CeCe to give her the ‘ get over here ’ look.  Success!  There she is
talking to Luke.  TALKING TO LUKE!  NO!  While CeCe might say the correct thing
in emotional situations at times, she could be counted on to lose that ability
when she’s ‘helping me’ attract a guy’s attention.  Believe me, this has come
up before, and it never went well.
    Fortunately,
Barney seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and didn’t really notice my lame
attempt at comforting.  “We had coffee together at least once every week,” he
confided.  “I told her stories that made her laugh, and she counted on me.  She
entrusted me with her inheritance, you know.  I told her