Hi All,
This is a different story to most of mine so far. I have flirted with the BTB genre before however it's not something I'm always comfortable with. Anyway I hope you give it a go.
A big thanks to my Hawaiian friend John for his tireless work making some sense of my mangled grammar and spelling. Aloha big guy.
Cheers
CharlieB4
*****
The rain tumbled down as the dark grey clouds above unloaded their burden on the cathedral. Tom sat in the car waiting, his wife and their two children sat quietly beside him. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. He stared out the tinted window again at the crowd milling around the front entrance. It was taking longer to clear than normal as people shook and folded their umbrellas before entering.
His father's funeral wasn't due to start for another ten minutes so there was still plenty of time. Maybe the television cameras would be gone by then he hoped. It was hard to see why they were even there. Byron Cameron had been a very successful business man but his death from cancer at age seventy one was hardly newsworthy. While he gave lots of money to charities and other good causes he always did it with the stipulation he remained anonymous.
Maybe it warranted twenty seconds on the local channel but why was one of the networks there? A little voice inside Tom's head was telling him a reason for it to be there. He tried his best to ignore it, surely she wouldn't make a scene today.
"Tom? There's only five minutes till it starts. I think we should go in now." Heather said touching his arm lightly.
He turned and looked at his wife smiling cautiously at him. "Yes, we best get it over with. The rain has slowed down now anyway."
Tom opened the door and got out, after adjusting his heavy coat he opened an umbrella and held it while Heather, James and Marita got out. They made their way to the two large doors, the crowd of latecomers and sticky beaks parting like the Red Sea before them. Tom recognized a few faces and gave small nods to acknowledge their mumbled words of condolence. The funeral director greeted them and ushered them to the front pew.
Tom's sister, Kate, was already seated with her husband and daughter. She stood up and they embraced before sitting down beside each other. Heather sat on the other side with the children. Tom looked up and studied the timber coffin covered in the flag and wreaths of flowers. The tears begin to swell in his eyes as the finality of it all became apparent. One week ago he had sat by his father's bedside holding his cool withered hand as he slipped away, but today was the last goodbye.
Heather took his hand and squeezed it, offering her support. She was the angel that had caught him all several years ago when his life was in free fall. Once again she was his rock, propping him up as the waves of life crashed into him.
The priest came out and after a quick inspection gave the nod down the aisle to the funeral director that everything was ready. Just then a murmur went around the congregation and some hushed voices expressed surprise. Heads turned as a commotion could be heard coming from the entrance doors. A shrill female voice floated out above the others and my worst fears were realized.
"... But they're his grandsons. They should be up in the front!"
Tom turned around to see a stylishly dressed woman, Melanie, his first wife, arguing with the funeral director as he tried to usher her to a seat. Two young men in smart suits stood behind her with smirks on their faces as the funeral director tried to quietly defuse the situation. Heather leaned close to me and whispered in my ear.
"I'll go up the back and she can sit here."
"No!" Tom hissed fiercely, "I don't want to give her the satisfaction."
Tom stood and strode back down the aisle, many heads turned and eyes followed him as he made his way towards the trouble. Melanie was looking the other way but the two men on the other side of her could see Tom coming and their grins vanished.
Grabbing Melanie's elbow tightly Tom whispered in her ear, "not today Melanie, for god's sake! Just sit down and shut up, you're not the fucking star today."
He expected an angry rebuke, instead she turned around and gave her "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" smile.
"Tom darling," she may have been smiling but her voice dripped venom. "So sorry we're late but somebody neglect to tell us what time the service was. In fact I didn't even know he was dead until yesterday."
Tom could feel the eyes of everybody on him, drilling into his back as he fought to maintain control.
"Could you please sit down Melanie, the service is about to start."
"Well, seeing you asked so nicely." She moved to follow the usher's directions but stopped and after a dramatic pause hit him below the belt. "Aren't you going to say hello to your sons?"
A couple of people gasped close by, Tom turned and walked away, his face and neck flushed red with rage and embarrassment. As he sat down in the front pew again Heather gave his hand another squeeze. The music started and everybody stood as two altar servers, the bishop and two other priests walked to the altar.
After the initial formalities Kate got up to deliver the first part of the eulogy. She outlined his early life; while Tom's father was a self-made man he did have a privileged upbringing. His father, Tom's grandfather, had made money in shipping, shipping booze into the US during prohibition. Unlike some of his contemporaries the old man made the transition to a more legitimate business after prohibition ended without problems so Tom's dad went to the best schools and university.
He worked with his father for a few years before he left to set out on his own. He moved into stockbroking much to his father's disgust. Tom's grandfather had gone into shipbuilding during the war and regarded stockbrokers and bankers as parasites on the economy. Tom's father had always said he would rather spend his time making money and left building things to others.
As Kate spoke Tom thought about how his father's relationship with his grandfather mirrored his own with his dad. Upon leaving university Tom had joined the family business but soon became disillusioned with the soulless pursuit of money. Unlike his grandfather Tom's passion hadn't been building ships or buildings, rather he wanted to grow things. As a child at the family country estate he would spend hours in the garden.
The end of Tom's first marriage had been the catalyst for change. His father's anger was tempered somewhat by the fact Kate had joined the firm and was showing more flair for the business than Tom ever would. With the advantage of the family money Tom bought a vineyard in the Napa Valley. Five years later with a degree in wine science and viticulture and sparkling new winery on site he rode the wine boom. Swiftly building a reputation for premium quality wine, Tom became highly influential in the expansion of the U.S. wine market.
The end of Tom's estrangement from his father occurred six years ago. Out of the blue Byron turned up in Napa on a summer afternoon. It was awkward for both of them but they sat down together. Brian told Tom he'd been diagnosed with cancer. Tom thought that was the reason for the visit, however Byron had a request for Tom.
"Tom, now I've got an end date on my life it's been making me think about my legacy."
"Can't you buy that too?" Tom snapped and immediately regretted it when he saw the hurt on his father's face.
"Alright, I asked for that." Byron reached into his coat pocket and bought out a folded piece of paper. "I read about this last year and it's something I'm interested in and it's ... it's something that maybe we could do together."
Tom was astounded. He took the paper from his father and scanned through it.
"You want us to make whisky together?"
"Yes, I'm stepping aside and Kate's taking over the firm. I'll supply the financing but you get a fifty percent stake in the project." Byron's eyes were bright with excitement.
"Hang on Dad, I make wine. I know nothing about whiskey, I rarely even drink the stuff."
Byron paused and studied his son's face.
"Tom, I know I haven't been the best father, but I've followed your progress here and I couldn't be more proud of you and what you have achieved. I know you can do this." He rubbed his hand over his face hiding the tears in his eyes. "It won't make up for the years we lost but I'd love to be a bigger part of your family's life in the time I have left."
Tom remembered the conflicting emotions and turmoil he felt at that moment. He'd sat in his chair holding the paper as his father drove away. Heather had come out of the cellar door and she'd stood behind him with her hands upon his shoulders and watched the car disappear into the distance.
Ironically Tom was awakened from his daydream by Heather's hand on his leg, "your turn."
He looked up to see Kate walking back from the pulpit, her speech over. Standing up he gave Kate a hug as he went past her then walked up for his turn to deliver his part of the eulogy. Kate had covered most of the aspects of their father's life. It was left to Tom to tell of the personal journey he and his father had taken in the past six years.
He briefly touched on their difficulties before describing the joy of rediscovering a relationship with his father. The eulogy ended when he spoke of his father's pride when just six months before they had stood on the podium at World Whisky awards in London and received a double gold medal for the four year aged single malt whisky. No small achievement especially considering they had decided to base their operations in one of the new world outposts for whisky making: Tasmania, Australia. The tears were flowing down his face when as he walked back he placed a bottle of their Cameron Distillery whisky on the coffin. It was a special release of the latest single malt to be bottled, the Byron range.
The rest of the service was a blur of songs and readings, it was a blessed relief when the pallbearers picked up the casket and started carrying it out of the church. Kate and Tom followed with partners and children. As he walked past the row of seats where Melanie sat he saw her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
Outside Tom wanted to jump straight into the car with his family and head to the airport to get back to Australia. However he knew what was expected so they stayed and accepted the handshakes and embraces of family and friends.
The local media had left but the network OB van was still parked across the road. This puzzled Tom until he saw the back door open and a cameraman and sound technician jump out and hurry across the road. They scurried past the crowd that had formed around the family and pointed the camera towards the doors. On cue a grieving Melanie came into view being supported by her sons.
Tom watched the performance with disgust, his displeasure etched on his face, until Heather gripped his arm and alerted him to the fact the camera was now pointed at him. He became even more annoyed now at the invasion of this solemn occasion. That was it for Tom. He hustled his wife and children into the car and made his way to the wake. This was a closed affair so he felt safer, he mingled with uncles and cousins and actually found he was enjoying himself, until across the crowded room he saw Melanie in heated conversation with his sister. By the time Tom made it through the throng to the other side Melanie was gone.
"What was that about?" He quizzed Kate.
"She wanted to know when we were reading Dad's will."
"What's it got to do with her?"
