The Black Coats(48)
Thea nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Good.” Her dad snapped open the paper. “I’m going to choose the most awkward movie I can find. That’ll teach you to ignore us.”
The door slammed behind Thea as she made her way to her Honda, thankful that she had parents who cared but also nervous about their growing curiosity about her activities. She turned the key and flew out of her neighborhood, wondering just how long she could keep this lie going.
Eighteen
A half hour later, Thea pushed open the front door of Mademoiselle Corday to absolute silence. Where was everyone? She stepped forward, straining to hear anything. Quietly, she tiptoed her way through the house, clutching her purse, wondering if she was the victim of a final bizarre hazing into the Black Coats. At last there was something: a whisper coming from the kitchen area. The kitchen? She wound her way into the huge room, ducking under the hanging copper pots. The sound of women’s voices singing some sort of dirge was coming from the pantry. The pantry? What the hell was going on here?
Thea pushed open the door and was met with a familiar sight: canned milk, jars of honey, and bags of flour. She stared for a moment before her eyes caught it, tracing the line of the ceiling down toward the shelves. There, invisible if someone wasn’t looking for it, was the faint outline of a door. A secret door. Although it probably wasn’t all that secret if everyone had gone through it already.
Thea snuck through the door and started down a steep brick staircase that wound deep into the damp earth. At the bottom, the staircase opened up to a sliding barn door. Voices tumbled out of the opening while Thea ducked down into her coat, hoping no one would notice that she was late. The room was full of bodies, so many bodies that Thea soon found herself crushed in a horde of shoulders, each of them wearing a black coat. Rising to her toes, she spotted her team, tucked away in the left corner of the room. At the front of the room was a long wooden table, and upon that the coffin of Robin Peterson ominously loomed over the proceedings, her black coat draped over it. Beeswax candles dripped in every possible corner, and the air was thick with incense. Near the coffin, Julie Westing was directing a small choir of Black Coats through a song that Thea actually knew: “God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” the Johnny Cash cover version. Her dad was a Cash fan, and, apparently, Robin had been, too. The Black Coats’ voices rose through the basement, filling the cold room with sound and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Of course they had perfect harmony. Casey caught her eye with a disapproving glare and motioned her over. Thea had started toward them when she saw Sahil, seated behind Julie at the front. It wasn’t the fact that he was curled over with his hands on his eyes, so obviously broken by grief that hurt her heart. It was what he was wearing. Gone were the white linen tunic and pants, the only outfit Thea had ever seen him in, and in their place was an immaculate black suit. A properly pressed black suit for his mother’s funeral. As she watched, he raised his dark eyes and stared at the coffin, his eyes dull. Thea knew from her experience that he probably wasn’t even processing what was going on right now. He was deep within himself, watching all of this like an out-of-body experience and telling himself in some small, comforting way that this wasn’t actually happening to him.
Thea felt tears pooling at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t really know Robin at all, but she knew what it was like to lose a loved one. After that, life’s never the same. As the song came to a close, Julie cut off the choir and raised her hands for the crowd’s attention.
“Robin loved that song. I know, because she played it on repeat constantly.” The women gave a polite chuckle. Sahil looked like he was going to throw up. “Many of you know this already, but for those new team members who don’t, Robin and I started the Black Coats after she was raped in 1972, just outside of Grapeland High School.” Julie turned toward Robin’s coffin, sorrow distorting her face. “She was a friend, a confidante, and a partner. We disagreed constantly, but that didn’t change the fact that we built the Black Coats together.” Some in the crowd gave a quiet clap.
“It hurts to say goodbye to her. Robin had an unbridled enthusiasm for life and optimism that she poured out onto all of us, for justice and for the Black Coats. She will be missed by so many—sisters here, sisters afar, and by her son, Sahil. I know she was most proud of him, a man who will always do what needs to be done to protect women.” Sahil looked away from the coffin, his face a violent struggle. Julie’s eyes narrowed, and the candlelight flickered off her hollowed cheeks.
“But for now we must look forward, to the future of our organization. As the sole luminary I will do my best to lead this group. We will cut out our weaknesses. I will work to secure what we have and plunge us firmly into the future of this great city. We will rise from Robin’s loss stronger, a group of women who will be feared and respected. We will stand against those who oppose us, and to those who hunt us”—she paused—“we will join you on the black road.” The Black Coats erupted into thundering applause.
The three presidents stood rigidly near the body like guards protecting a king. Nixon stood perfectly still, but tears crawled down her face. McKinley faced forward, her eyes darting from Robin’s coffin to Julie and back. Kennedy was smiling at Julie with a worshipful expression.
The luminary continued, “And now, Robin will sleep in the cradle of the place that she loved so well, as we send her on with prayers for her eternal rest.” Julie carefully laid her hand on the coffin. She ran her palm over Robin’s coat with a nostalgic look on her face. Then she turned back to the Black Coats. “Please head upstairs to the Haunt, where we will toast our Robin with her favorite drink—a gin and tonic—and other refreshments. Thank you all for coming.”