TW: The topic of infertility and the struggle to conceive is briefly mentioned in this chapter. In no way have I intended to hurt anyone, but if this may be too sensitive for you, please look for the black asterisks (*)
The longest walk home that any parent will ever take is the one after their child has "run" ahead of them. - Unknown
Finally, the day of Miranda's funeral had arrived. It's been about a month and a half since she was found.
The days leading up to it, the halls of our school were quiet and somber, a stark contrast to when Miranda roamed them.
People almost resembled zombies. They were simply sticking to what they knew. What felt safe.
The entire town had been invited. Apparently her parents thought of it as a way to "heal our town", collectively mourning the loss of one of its members.
Many fathers dreamed of, and slightly dreaded, walking their daughters down the aisle.
Today Mr. Hutchins would do exactly that. Though not in the way he imagined, I'd assume.
Instead of his daughter, smiling ear to ear, in her wedding gown, she was lying in a casket. Never having the chance to choose a career, find love, get married and have kids.
All because someone chose to play God and cut her life tragically short.
Fiddling with the hem of my black dress, I looked around at everyone who'd gathered already.
The service didn't start for another half hour, but mom insisted we arrive early.
After a few seconds of scanning the room, I located Jon at the front, near where the casket rested. He stood with his parents, shifting his weight between his feet as his parents conversed with Miranda's, likely offering their condolences.
Jon must have felt my eyes on him as he raised his head, his eyes finding mine, a large smile plastering on his face, showcasing his gorgeous dimples.
"Hey mom," I said as she paused her conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher. "I'm going to go talk to Jon."
"Alright sweetheart. I'll find our seats when I'm done here."
"Okay. Bye Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher. Have a nice evening."
As I walked away I heard Mrs. Thatcher say, "Your daughter has grown up to be a wonderful, and beautiful, young woman. You two did a god job with her."
I smiled, half from the comment and half because Jon had met me halfway down the aisle.
Just before we were actually face to face, a long mane of white-blonde hair smacked me across the face.
Only two people in town have that colour hair. Kirsty and her mother, Karen.
However, judging by how their back was to me and the shorter stature, I knew it was Kirsty.
I opened my mouth, completely ready to confront her when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Judging by the hair colour, I knew it was Kirsty Sr.
"Karen," I nodded, trying to avoid a scene.
"Harley Masterson." She said, circling around me. "I hoped you would heed my advice. But whispers tell me that is not the case."
"Why are you so concerned about what I'm doing? You're not my mother and I'm sure you know how much your daughter despises me." I leaned closer as she came to a stop in front of me. "What's your game?"
She chuckled to herself. "Ahh. I see she still hasn't told you."
I glowered at her. "Told me what?"
"Oh, nothing," she replied laughing again. "I'm sure she'll tell you." At this she began to walk away. But not before looking over her shoulder one last time. "Or not. After all, she's only hidden it from you your entire life. Maybe it's why you and the Reeves boy get along so well."
With nothing more, she finally walked away, followed shortly thereafter by Kirsty.
Jon walked up to me moments later with a perplexed expression on his face.
"Well, that was weird. What did Mrs. Lavell want?"
"She was being really weird again. Talking about how I should heed her advice and leave the case alone. Then she said that my mom was hiding something from me."
"Again?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Apparently she seems to think your parents would know something about it."
"Hmm. That is weird. I hate not knowing things."
"I know you do. So do I." It was then I began pondering ways on how to find out what their secret could be without directly asking them. "Look, whatever it is, if there really is a secret, then it must be pretty important to have kept all these years. A secret like that isn't going to just flow from their lips."
"If there is a secret," he reiterated.
"Right. If there is a secret to begin with. It also wouldn't left lying around just anywhere where we might discover it. They would have hidden it somewhere. Unless they want us to think it's hidden but it was really in plain sight all along."
Jon grabbed me gently by the shoulders. "You're over thinking this. Look, what if after the funeral, we both go back to our houses and look around for anything suspicious and then we meet up at your house. Both my parents will likely go back to their offices. What about your mom?"
"Yeah. She's been working a lot lately. I think she will be going back to the bakery. People often crave sweets when they are sad. Today should be a busy day for her. But I'll double check to be sure."
"Alright. Sounds like a plan."
"Oh. There you are Jonathan. We were wondering where you'd wandered off to." Jon's mother said as she and her husband approached us. She looked and noticed me, looking me up and down. "Oh dear. You couldn't put that jacket away for one day. I mean, we're at a funeral for heaven's sake. And isn't that dress a little short. Don't even get me started on those boots. I can't believe your mother let you leave the house like that. If Harry was alive..." She trailed off, fanning herself.
Everything she had been saying about my outfit was going in one ear and out the other. That is until she mentioned my father.
"Mom," Jon mumbled, shaking his head. "That was uncalled for."
"You're right Jon." A voice sounded from behind us. My mom. "It's one thing to comment on how my daughter is dressed, which by the way, is none of your business. But it is on a whole other level to bring up her deceased father. I thought even you had more class than that. I guess they really have their claws hooked in you even after all these years."
The last comment made seemingly no sense, but I couldn't help but notice how tense both the Reeves got as she uttered those words.
Could there really be a secret after all? If so, was this our first clue?
Clearly Jon must have been thinking the same thing as a silent look was shared between us.
The thick air between the parents dissipated as more people began to arrive.
"Come on, sweetheart," Jon's mom started, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Miranda's parents saved us seats at the front. You'll be sitting next to Kirsty."
At that, Jon's eyes bugged. "Um, actually mom. I was planning on sitting with Harl..."
"Nonsense boy," Jon's father interjected. "You wouldn't want to be rude, now would you?"
"No. But..."
"It's okay Jon. We'll talk after." I hugged him and my mother and I made our way towards the rear of the room.
As we neared the back, through the open door, I could have sworn I saw a man looking directly at me. However when I went to look again, he was gone.
Though I couldn't be sure, it appeared to be a man.
Could this be the man who has been sending me all these letters?
If so, why would he risk exposing himself by allowing me to see him? He's done such a good job at protecting his identity up to this point. What could cause him to be so brash, if this indeed is him.
Shaking it off, my mother and I took our seats as we waited patiently for everyone to file in and begin the procession.
Maybe ten to fifteen minutes after we sat down, the funeral march sounded over the speakers.
Everyone stood and watched as six young men led by Miranda's father, decked out in black suits with pink ties, Miranda's favourite colour, carried her casket down the aisle.
Come to think of it, those who appeared closest to her all had varying subtle shades of pink through their outfits, including Kirsty and the rest of her posse.
As they reached the front and gently set down her casket, Mr. Hutchins rejoined his sobbing wife, who was previously being comforted by Mrs. Lavell.
The pastor, Mr. Beck, got up and spoke a few words and led a prayer, before handing it over to Miranda's parents.
Mr. Hutchins led his wife slowly up the few steps to the podium. Her eyes were bloodshot, and as to be expected, she was crying.
Mr. Hutchins cleared his throat, rubbing his wife's shoulder. "Today, we stand before you, not only as your neighbour, but as the parents of a murdered child." He stumbled on the word murdered, which was to be expected. Clearly they were still in disbelief that anyone would intentionally harm their daughter, much less kill her.
At the same time, Mrs. Hutchins let out a gut wrenching sob. Her husband spent a few moments rubbing her back and whispering to her.
"Our daughter," Mr. Hutchins started again. "Our only child, the light of our life, has been stolen from us. Someone stole our chance to watch her grow up, choose a career, fall in love, get married and give us grandchildren." He paused, looking down, in an obvious attempt to maintain composure. "No parent should ever have parenthood taken away from them. We are meant to teach them, watch them grow and hope by the time they're our age, we've raised them well enough that they're doing everything they want in life." He turned to Mrs. Hutchins. "I believe my wife would now like to say a few quick words."
He stepped back, allowing his wife to approach the podium.
She cleared her throat before looking at the large projection screen on the wall behind them, which was now showing a baby picture of who I had to assume is Miranda.
*********
"For those who know me well, they'd know I struggled to conceive. After multiple miscarriages, our doctor told us it was highly unlikely my body would be able to carry a baby full term. Robert and I decided to try one last time. We agreed if it didn't work out this time, we'd find another way. Fortunately, we didn't have to. Our doctor gave us the news that we were pregnant. From there, it was a waiting game. Would my body betray me again? Or would we finally have a family. Seven months later our question was answered."
A photo of a tiny baby with tubes all over popped up. A collective gasp was heard.
"Our baby girl was born two months early weighing just over four pounds. I finally understand what other women meant when they talked about holding their child for the first time. Before than I... we, never knew how possible it was to love something so small, so fragile. To look into their eyes and know this tiny human being was now counting on you to help them through life. I just wish I could have been there for her. Nothing I say can change the fact that she will never age past sixteen years old. All I can hope is that she wasn't scared in those last moments as this monster stole her from us. I hope she felt us with her. Most of all, I hope she finds peace until we are able to join her. We love you baby." She made her way down the steps and kissed the head of her daughter's casket, tears once again rushing down her flushed cheeks. Her husbands was only steps behind her, as he also kissed his daughter's casket.
*********
I felt someone watching me. Figuring it may be the man from before, I turned, only to see the Sheriff looking back at me.
The police force had also been invited, not only because they lived in our town, but as I suspect to look out for anyone behaving out of the ordinary at Miranda's funeral.
I didn't waste much time looking at him. I turned around and watched as other people; aunts, uncles, cousins and friends shared stories of their memories of Miranda. From all of their stories, she sounded like an awesome person, which I'm sure she was. It only made me think of what I could have done to make her hate me like she did.
Once the final person had spoken, it was announced that it was now time to bring her casket to the town graveyard, where she would be buried.
The extended family and friends exited first followed by everyone else.
My mom and I were among the last to leave.
The hearse left first followed by her parents then by family and friends.
All other guests were in charge of their own transportation and were expected to make their way to the graveyard immediately following the funeral for the burial.
Honestly, it's a wonder how everyone would fit in the graveyard.
Pushing all thoughts aside, I hopped into the passenger's side of my mom's Buick as we pulled out of the church parking lot.
We had to park down the street and walk the rest of the way because there were so many cars, the parking lot of the graveyard was full.
By the time we got to the site, they were only just getting ready to begin the burial.
My mom and I stood towards the back as we had in the church. Once again, Jon was expected up front next to Kirsty.
The Hutchins are really treating Kirsty almost like a second daughter. She's been up front and centre with them. If they want her up there with them, she must act completely different around them. Whenever I've see her, she looks like she couldn't care less that her supposed best friend was missing. Her true moment of concern seemed to be while Miranda was still missing.
I don't know, but that seems a little odd to me. Coupled with how swiftly she jumped into Miranda's old role as Queen Bee.
I'm not sure she directly had anything to do with Miranda's death, but she seems to be enjoying reaping the "benefits".
The burial was a quicker process than the actual funeral itself.
Her loved ones and friends placed pictures, old and recent, along with letters they'd written to her. Finally sixteen of her relatives, beginning with her parents, tossed pink roses into her grave, signifying the sixteen years she spent on Earth.
Once all that was done, the family was allowed to sprinkle bits of dirt over her before the groundskeeper would help finish it off.
The process quickly began too much for Miranda's mother, who descended into tears and had to be consoled by numerous family members.
"My baby! My baby!" She could be heard screaming as two people had to keep her from sinking to the ground.
"Poor woman," I heard my mother say. "No one deserves to go through this. Ever."
She's right. There's not much more that can be done other than exposing who did this to her.
We watched as the select family members lined up and sprinkled dirt over her coffin, many trying to hold back tears.
Even for someone you perceive to be your enemy, it is hard to believe that anyone could do anything to deserve to die the way Miranda did. Likely scared and alone, probably knowing she would never see her family again.
Before I could stop myself, a lone tear made its way down my cheek.
"Aww, sweetheart," my mom said, hugging me by the shoulders. "It's okay. The police will find whoever did this to her."
"I hope so," I whispered.
Once the final family member had sprinkled their handful of dirt, the groundskeeper emerged with a shovel.
Upon noticing Mrs. Hutchins being ushered away by her husband, still sobbing, the crowd slowly began to disperse.
As I was getting ready to leave I heard a voice behind me.
"Harley, right?"
I turned around to be greeted by the sight of a dark brunette with bright green eyes.
"Um, right."
"I'm Amy. Miranda is... was my cousin."
"We're sorry for your loss."
"Honey, I'm going to let you two talk. I'll be in the car." My mom said. I nodded before she walked off.
"I don't mean to sound rude, but how do you know me?"
"Miranda. She talked about you a ton."
"Probably about how much she hates me. Right?"
Her brows furrowed. "Hate you? Miranda never hated you. She envied you."
Now it was my turn to furrow my brows. "Envied me? Why would she envy me?"
"You two grew up together, right?" I nodded. "Well then you'd know Miranda wasn't always Miss Popular. Before she started high school, hardly anyone ever looked her way. But that changed. Heading into grade nine, she decided to reinvent herself. She ditched her glasses for contacts. Worked out for two hours a day and went on diets. All to look like what she thought would make everyone like her. And it worked. Or so she made everyone believe."
"What do you mean? She had tons of friends. Pretty much everyone wanted to be her friend."
Amy shook her head. "That's what she thought too. With her new look, suddenly everyone was noticing her. Boys, and even the popular girls who never gave a second glance until she changed her appearance."
"Kirsty," I surmised.
"Exactly."
"But what did any of that have to do with me?"
"She always admired how much you didn't care what others thought of you. People picked on you for your hair, the way you dressed, your hobbies. But you never wavered. Inside she hated that she allowed other people to determine who she was and how she acted. She saw how Jonathan liked you for you. Honestly, that was probably one of the things she was looking for most. Someone who'd love her unconditionally, faults and all. Like Jon does with you."
"She thought she'd found it with Jackson."
"Yes. They always fought and broke up, but she admitted that most times it was her fault. Jackson was trying to get her to show the real Miranda. Not the Miranda she'd been showing everyone the last two and a half years. He wanted everyone to be able to see the girl he loved, and not who she pretended to be. He didn't like the effect he thought Kirsty had on Miranda. Ganging up on you was never Miranda's idea. Kirsty somehow managed to talk her into it."
"Kirsty was the ring leader," I said, before feeling eyes on me. Turning about ninety degrees, I locked eyes with Kirsty. She was sending me daggers, as if she were trying to pierce my soul. "Now that makes a lot of sense." I turned back to Amy. "I always felt something was off with their 'friendship'. Kirsty went out of her way to make it seem like Miranda was the leader. Now with Miranda gone, she's finding herself looking mighty cozy on her so called friend's throne. When Miranda was missing, she seemed more worried than when she was found. Now everything makes a lot more sense. I had no idea what I did to make her hate me. It was Kirsty. She preyed on a vulnerable girl and gave her something she didn't know she could have; a sense of belonging."
"She's highly manipulative." Amy began. "From the moment Miranda introduced us, I sensed something was off with her. I think she knew it too. In front of our family she puts on a pleasant facade. But when no one's around, out come the claws. Or rather knives. That girl cannot be trusted."
I looked over Amy's shoulder and saw Jonathan waiting patiently.
"It was great talking to you Amy. You really opened my eyes to a lot. Again, I'm very sorry about your cousin. I know the entire police force will not rest until they find justice for her. Oh!"
I was caught off guard as she pulled me into a hug.
"Miranda was right," she said, smiling. "You are pretty cool. I hope we can talk again sometime."
"For sure." I pulled out a piece of paper, jotting something down before handing it to her. "Here's my number. If you ever want to talk, about anything, you can talk to me. I'll try my best."
With one last smile, she left to rejoin the remaining family members. Likely her parents and siblings.
As I watched her meet up with her family, I felt a presence behind me.
"What was all that about?" Jonathan asked.
"I guess not everything is as it seems, huh?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'll tell you later. First let's get out of here."
"Yeah. Let's go."
Days like today go to show. When you think you know someone, do you ever truly know them?
I went from attending a funeral of a girl I believed hated me. To attending the same funeral, only to find out how she really felt about me.
Time is precious. Instead of trying to understand her, I chose to believe she hated me.
Maybe in another time we could have been friends. Without all the outside influences.
As William Shakespeare said, "Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none".
In listening to the second part of that, perhaps I forgot the other two thirds.
I have always been one to trust very few people. Maybe that worked against me here.
Now that she's gone, I will never get the chance to make things right. To try to understand her.
When you don't understand, it makes it easier to hate or be consumed by rage.
I never hated Miranda. I hated how much she seemed to hate me for reasons unknown.
It just hurts that I had to wait until she was murdered to find out that she never hated me. She was manipulated, like many others.
By a serpent masquerading as a flower.
I took once last look at the now barren grave site, only the groundskeeper remaining, piling on the final layer of soil.
I will find who did this to you Miranda. They will pay for all the pain they have caused. You will have justice. I will make sure that you do. I thought to myself, as I hopped in the car, glancing out the window as we drove away, rain slowly beginning to fall.
I don't know why but this rain felt different. Almost as if the sky was crying. As if Miranda was crying.
After today, I know I can't stop until we find out what happened to her. Her death may be a part of a much larger story in this town. We just need to find out if her death is linked to the other disappearances.
A/N: How do you feel about Miranda after this chapter? Has she been redeemed? If so; fully, somewhat or us she still a wench for the things she did when she was alive?