The funeral came and went. Eloise and Esther saw to the tending of Marguerite’s and Timoteo’s bodies, ensuring they were prepped in the fashion of continental witches with the proper adornments.

Timoteo was dressed in a simple, rural fashion—trousers, an off-white button up that was out of date, and a Saint Christopher medallion resting on his chest. His left arm was laid out and in its crook lay Marguerite. It was a fitting final scene for a couple whose lives so blended together that one did not know where they ended and their partner began.

Marguerite wore a simple long gown of the lightest blue, a green sash tied across her waist. A Saint Jude medallion rested in the hollow of her neck.

On the eyes of both, pennies rested.

Both were wrapped in a shroud. At their feet, Eloise and Esther let Estella finish the sewing. A final act of love, of devotion.

It was simple, it was personal. It was nothing like what Estella saw at Jack’s funeral. He was dressed formally, impersonal with no trinkets of his life to see him through to the afterlife. No evidence that he had lived except for his corpse and the mourners. Her grandparents would go to the grave with not only each other, but in clothing and objects that they wore.

They were alive. Were loved. And the tears on her cheeks was evidence that they loved in return.

Jacques stood silently over her during the closing of the shrouds. And he watched over her during the procession of the bodies to their final resting place. Esther and Eloise led the procession and Jacques carried the coffin on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the base to balance it. When he first lifted the plain box up, Estella squeaked in fear that he would drop them.

When he rose to his full height from his crouched position, he gave Estella a reassuring smile before taking his place in their small line. Estella joined him on his other side and he put his free hand on her shoulder. She held onto the feeling of his warm hand like a lifeline, keeping her in place lest she fly off to join her grandparents.

They had no priest. Instead, Jacques asked Matthieu to send him a copy of a Mass to read. Matthieu, Jacques told her, liked to study religion. He gave her a wry smile and said, “while I could scandalize Mary Magdalene.”

When he was done reading, Estella threw the first handful of dirt onto the plain wood. Followed by Esther. Then Eloise. Then Jacques.

Estella sat down before their grave, an offering of bread, cheese, and wine at her side and an herb bouquet in her lap.

She silently watched Jacques as he continued to fill in the grave. Every once in a while she would throw in another handful of dirt herself to join his mounting pile. Maybe part of herself will stay in the grave with them. At some point, Esther and Eloise returned to the house.

He carefully finished laying the soil back over the bodies, gently finishing his part in putting his friends to rest.

Estella gave extra care to their offering. She poured them two glasses of wine, sliced their cheese and bread, sat a bowl of butter for her grandmother, and another bowl of olive oil for her grandfather at their feet. She set the herb bouquet in a small vase.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

It is their final farewell, let it be kind.

Barbara Bonney’s rendition of “Ave Maria” poured over the scene. Someone—probably Esther—started the record player inside.

“Ave Maria! Jungfrau mild,

Erhöre einer Jungfrau Flehen,

Aus diesem Felsen starr und wild

Soll mein Gebet zu dir hinwehen.

Wir schlafen sicher bis zum Morgen,...”

Tomorrow they will leave. Estella suspected it would be a long time before she came back again.

_______________

Ever together, Esther and Eloise went with them to the airport. They told Estella it was to prolong the goodbye but Jacques said it was a matter of safety. That two witches plus one vampire is better against one dangerous vampire. The women had glared at Jacques for being so candid about the dangers of the situation but Estella appreciated it. His honesty made her trust him. It reminded her of her grandparents.

The two women had stayed the night, cleaning the house, covering the mirrors, and preparing Estella’s bags. They also spoke to Jacques. She could hear the muffled sounds of their voices deep into her restless night.

In the morning, Esther and Eloise helped her pack the last of the things she was to bring with her. “You do not know what you should bring—who knows when you will return.” Esther said, patting her head.

Eloise insisted, “You must at least have a witch’s traveling cloak. Your grandmere would insist upon it.”

That was how Estella ended up in a deep green cloak that Eloise “shook out” to Estella’s size. A few flicks of the old witch’s wrist and the cloak went from fitting a grown woman to her small frame.

“Bon voyage, Estella.” Esther told her, kissing her left cheek.

Eloise smiled and kissed her right cheek. “We will meet again, in a different time.”

This is not your time.

____

Estella picked at the fraying fabric of her jeans while she waited for the flight attendants to serve their dinner.

A rolled up copy of Time Magazine poked her hand. “You’re going to need a new pair soon enough, Este.” Jacques had started using the nickname after he heard Eloise use it when she showed her how to finish the shrouds.

Estella fisted her hands and looked up at him. Jacques tilted his head, giving her a small lope-sided smile. She scrunched her face up at him.

“What did you all talk about last night?”

His eyes widened and then he leaned in close, “We must discuss that later.” He whispered.

Catching on, Estella ducked her head into her shoulders and whispered back, “But we will discuss it?”

“Oui.”

“You promise?” That question felt vital to her. Would he promise?

“I promise.”

She looked at him hard, trying to find what she didn’t know in his gray eyes.

He stared right back at her.

Flashes of images flared behind Estella’s eyes. Other girls with gray eyes, black hair, and pointed, heart shaped faces in old dresses. They were happy, dancing, giggling, sick, dying, dying, dead. It came on so sudden and disappeared so quickly that it disoriented Estella and forced her to break eye contact. She looked away and blinked furiously out the window to clear her vision.

Their food came then. She stole Jacques roll and cookie. But she avoided eye contact until she fell asleep. She was afraid to see dead girls with strikingly similar gray eyes again.