Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (2 page)

Squaring his shoulders, he stood tall and walked with determined steps back to his home before the ceremony bearers began the procession. His sisters would arrive any moment, and he needed to be strong and maintain a rooted sense of reality.

In the doorstep, he studied his father’s body and then slowly walked into the apartment. Leaf rested his hand upon his father’s chest and leaned down, kissing him on the cheek. In a whisper, Leaf said, “I love you,” letting out a heavy sigh as sorrow twisted his stomach into painful spasms of anxiety. To release the tension he smoothed out ripples in the tunic his sister had sewn, picking and pulling at various folds rumpled by those who touched his father one last time. Leaf wanted to ensure the presentation was the very best for his sisters.

As his hand brushed over the linen fabric his mind wandered to the various traditions of the Cremation Ceremony. The elder women of the community would shroud his father’s body but not until Leaf checked his father’s garments for any personal items in view of the community.
Leaf never quite understood this tradition as all bodies were prepared with clean clothing. Nevertheless, the head male of the home would pull out an item of sentimental value from a pocket. Traditions rarely included logic, he thought, and their origins were sometimes as muddled as the ritual.

Where did the sentimental item come from? Did he place it inside his father’s pocket, or did another leave an object for
Leaf to discover? If he recalled correctly, most in his role seemed surprised and touched by what they found. His father appeared astonished and then overcome when he had pulled out mother’s carved-dragon hair comb while performing this custom during her Cremation Ceremony eight years ago. Willow cherished the keepsake, a gift given to her from father shortly after the Second Ceremony for mother’s ashes.

Should he search the pockets and pretend ignorance before the gathering, or honor the tradition and remain genuinely surprised? Leaf creased his brows and narrowed his eyes in concentration, frustrated with the moral dilemma. He lowered his head into his hands and shuffled his feet, considering each argument. Would he scandalize his home if he failed to pull an object from his father’s pocket? How weighted was this tradition? Until today, he had never been personally involved in funeral arrangements and did not possess much of a foundation to form logical conclusions on such matters.

In the end, he decided that traditions mattered to the community, even though he could not comprehend the importance of this particular one. He would check his father’s pockets. If there was no object to be found, then he needed to search for one to place, and hopefully before his sisters returned home.

His
hand, trembling from fatigue, reached into a pocket, and his fingers scooped inside and touched only the soft linen. He blinked his eyes and forced breath into his body. Why did he feel so nervous? It was an irrational reaction that added to the frustration of trying to maintain control and a sense order. Walking to the other side of the litter, he repeated the same process and stilled when his fingers touched what felt like stiff paper, and he creased his eyebrows once more. What could possibly be in his father’s pocket with this texture? His father did not possess playing cards nor partook in such games. Gently Leaf pulled the object out, examining the small, repeating geometric pattern. Perplexed by such a find he carefully turned it over to examine the other side and felt the air rush from his body as he stared at the image of a snuffed out candle.

He gripped the card as a burst of anger surged through his limbs, competing against the spooked sensations unsettling his nerves. His eyes darted around the apartment as he attempted to accept the implication, his father’s final instruction echoing in his mind with new understanding.

Yesterday afternoon returned in an overwhelming rush, and Leaf felt his father’s weight in his arms all over again. The Rows—the main agricultural garden—was empty due to the afternoon rest prior to evening meal, providing a moment of privacy. His father had gasped for air and clutched his left arm with large, labor-worn hands as his face contorted in pain. Last words for Leaf to gather his sisters and leave New Eden were spoken between wheezes and through clenched teeth. The revelation, instructions and pleas haunted Leaf; and he felt confused as to what he should do.

A shadow shifted by the latticed window, gaining
Leaf’s preoccupied attention, and he gripped the card as his hand shook from the tightened muscles.

“Is
all well?”

He startled, sucking in a quick breath, and then stared wide-eyed at his sister Willow, who stood in the doorway while averting her eyes toward the window. He said in a low raspy voice, “
Yes, all is in order. Father is clothed, you may look.” Although Leaf’s hand shook, he slipped the card into his pocket with subtle movements and then cleared his throat. “Shall I leave, providing you a private moment?”

Willow blanched as she glanced at their father with a drawn and melancholy expression, her breath hitching loudly as she shuddered against the forming tears. His sister’s eyes were puffy and bruised from weeping and lack of sleep, her cries through the night and morning adding to the heaviness in his heart. She shook her head with detached movements while studying the shell of their father and said, “I do not wish to be alone. Please remain in the room.”

“Of course.” Leaf looked behind him to sit, noting a high-back chair, and then paused. “Where is Laurel?”

His sister’s eyes rounded and she placed fingers over her mouth. “I am not sure,” she said in a sudden panic. “She remained outside as I went into the Great Hall to meet with Cook, and then I left and walked the forest, my mind drawn to other attentions.”

“Willow,” he sighed in exasperation as he rubbed his temples. “This is our last opportunity alone with father before the procession. Shall I fetch her or will you?”

Both glanced at the body stretched between them and then met each other’s eyes, and Leaf’s shoulders fell when Willow’s expression hardened.

“How could you be so unfeeling?” She crossed her arms as angry tears trailed down her face.

Leaf closed his eyes for a couple of heartbeats. His sister could be so infuriating at times. “What would you have me do? Laurel was in your charge. Our sister deserves final farewells, same as you.”

“I did not set out to ruin such plans.” She looked at father’s belt around Leaf’s waist and then turned her head toward the wall. “You are not the only one affected by father’s death, Leaf Watson!”

“Laurel is eight years old and you are nearly sixteen, a grown woman. I am not suggesting that you ruined such plans. I am reminding you that she needs our protection. We are her parents now.”

“Protection from what exactly? That is a most peculiar statement.”

His fingers touched the card in his pocket as angry thoughts continued to demand his notice. “Protection against the fear of losing a parent and feeling unsafe. We need to consider her feelings and needs above our own at present and, therefore, we should ensure she does not feel alone as well.”

“Please do not patronize me. I am not a selfish person despite your claims of unladylike deportment.”

Leaf groaned in frustration. “Stop twisting my words, Willow. I have said no such thing and would appreciate a modicum of respect.”

“Yes,
My Lord
.” She dipped into a curtsy and then covered her face with her hands as she began to gently sob once more while peeking through her fingers at their father’s body.

He lowered his gaze to the floor unable to watch his sister struggle, feeling guilt for his words spoken in irritation. She had stayed up late to embroider the oak tree on father’s tunic, crying most of the morning, especially when the undertaker brought father back home. At present
Leaf did not possess the fortitude to endure any conflicts or strong emotions. He could barely meet his own needs let alone his sister’s, whose penchant for melodrama tested his patience even when he was of a whole and sound mind. But he needed to. It was now his responsibility to care for her needs, regardless of how he felt, and he would endeavor to treat her with the love father gave.

He softened his face and said in a quiet voice, “I have felt my mind slipping away today as well.” Leaf offered a kind smile, and then opened his mouth to say more when a light knock sounded on the open door. Ember stood in the doorway beside Laurel with a solemn downcast gaze, allowing Leaf to regard her profile unnoticed.

Willow turned toward the door and a smile formed through the tears. She knelt on the floor and then opened her arms. “Oh darling, I am so sorry.” Laurel walked into her embrace and began to quietly cry, peering over Willow’s shoulder toward their father.

Leaf whispered, “Thank you, My Lady,” turning away as his face warmed. Did Ember hear his confession? Or his argument with Willow?

“My father wishes to inform you that he shall arrive soon. The funeral pyre is prepared,” Ember said and briefly met his eyes with a crestfallen smile. He offered a quick nod of acknowledgement. “Laurel was happily playing with Corona, but I knew you would wish for her to be present when the ceremony bearers arrived.”

“Yes, thank you.” He bowed, humbly paying respect for her considerations.

She softly spoke, “I shall take my leave,” while quietly shutting their entry door.

“Ember, wait,” he spoke urgently and then stopped. She tarried and studied his face as he hesitated to speak further. He blinked his eyes with shyness and then looked away. “I appreciate your care of my sister.” Ember dipped her head and then shut the door.

Leaf stared at the dark wood and wrought iron braces, the handle rhythmically knocking against the door. The house dimmed, casting gray tones over his father’s skin. The sudden darkness quieted Willow and Laurel, who stared at the body with occasional hiccups and blotchy faces. Laurel nervously bit on her tiny fingernails as Willow rested her hand upon their sister’s small shoulder. Somber steps carried him to another cupboard, and he pulled out a ceramic bowl, fire nest material, and striking rocks. Within minutes he lit the main candles of their home with a lighting stick, positioning tallow tapers near the body, warming and softening his father’s features.

“Come say your farewells,”
Leaf encouraged softly, taking their father’s hand. “He shall soon be carried away to become one with the elements.”

In a whisper, Laurel asked, “Will we bother him?”

“No, ma chère,” Leaf said. He walked over and knelt before her. “Father is in Heaven. Although his spirit no longer resides in his body, he hears our words as we speak to him. I am quite certain of it.”

His littlest sister bit her lower lip and then hesitantly walked to the litter. She reached out a hand and gently laid it upon their father’s, closing her eyes as tears squeezed through and ran down her cheeks. Willow walked up behind their sister, placed a hand on her shoulder, and then leaned down and kissed their father upon the cheek as Leaf had done earlier.

“I love you father,” Willow spoke with a cracked voice. “Please give mother our love.”

“Lift me up?
” Laurel asked, glancing at Leaf over her shoulder. “I wish to kiss father as well.” Leaf lifted his sister and she delicately kissed their father’s cheek, pulling back quickly. “He is so cold. We should cover him with a blanket.”

Leaf
placed his sister back onto the ground as he exchanged a worried look with Willow.

Laurel disappeared into their parent’s room, emerging with a woolen lap blanket, draping it across their father with loving ministrations.
“There, now he shall be warm.”

“Yes, indeed,” Leaf said with a smile. “I am sure he appreciates your kindness.” Laurel looked up at him with a happy smile and his heart constricted.

A quiet knock rung through the silence and the flames bent and knelt before their father when the door opened. Connor stood in the doorway, stepping aside as Brother Markus entered their apartment carrying the Holy Scriptures in his hand.

“The ceremony bearers are ready,” Connor said.

Leaf nodded his head as he and his sisters lifted the hoods on their cloaks of mourning and stepped out of the way. Connor approached the litter and blew out the candles surrounding his father’s body, and then waved for the bearers to enter.

The ceremony bearers represented the three remaining Noble houses of the community—Connor, the Fire Element; Timothy, the Wind Element; and Alex, the Water Element’s husband—along with Jeff, the town barrister. The men lifted the bamboo poles and placed them upon their shoulders as they slowly marched from the apartment with Brother Markus at the lead.

Leaf regarded each man warily, searching their faces for any sign that they had placed the mysterious card in his father’s pocket. He did not find a replacement item and no longer cared for such a tradition. The community may be astonished when nothing of value resided upon one of the head Nobles of their township, but Leaf would ensure that the legacy of his father was not summarized by an object. A heat flushed through Leaf’s body as angry thoughts began to simmer, but he cooled his temper to remain in control and to appear blissfully unaware. He was already entrusted with the biggest secret of New Eden Township. He could retain another.

Laurel’s hand clasped his, and he looked down and offered a reassuring smile as they left their home. He squinted his eyes in the mid-day sunlight, listening to Willow cry as she stepped beside him. Mourners had gathered in the clearing, the sounds of quiet and muffled cries reaching his ears as his family descended the stairs to the biodome floor. Family groups lined up behind his and formed a procession. Brother Markus prayed in Latin as they marched with hoods high and heads low to the prepared funeral pyre placed next to The Rows.