Part Four of The Wake

They all make me sick, Cicely McGovern thought.

She had one reason for attending this wake. To call Marcus Garfield out.

“You don’t think Andrew left you something in his will, do you?” she asked Marcus “After what you did.” She laughed, the sound like broken bottles being stepped on.

Melissa’s face contorted, begging Cicely to not say anything more. The sight only pushed the angry woman forward.

Her eyes glittered with disgust when she asked, “You think you got away with it?”

“Enough!” ordered Peter. But her ex-husband had stopped being able to control Cicely years before.

“You killed her. She was young and sweet and full of life. And you killed her. Then didn’t even show up at the funeral.”

Everyone at the table reacted to Cicely’s accusations.

Peter stood up and told her “Nice job,” before walking over to the bar.

Melissa started murmuring, “No, no, no. Don’t blame him.”

“He got behind the wheel of his precious Jag and drove her right into a pole,” Cicely spat at Melissa. “Who should we blame? The bartender that served him twenty-one shots on his 21st birthday? The liquor company? God for making it rain that night? No, Mel, it’s his fault. It falls on Marcus and no one else.”

“You’re right,” Marcus’ voice booming with anger directed fully at himself. He lifted his glass of ale and downed it.

Peter and Jake wandered back over, not wanting to hear this but not able to stay away either.

“So you admit it ?” Cicely asked “You drug Cassie into the driver’s seat that night after the crash? Let a dead woman whose only crime was loving you take the fall?”

“And if I say yes? Then what?” His voice was calm, yet traces of anguish slipped into his tone.

By Sara

As the group manager of Brand New Aspiring Writers she strives to help fellow novelists and poets reach their dream of publication while at the same time pursuing her own. An American from the Midwest all her novels, and her real life, takes place in the suburbs surrounding Chicago, Illinois.