My brother arrived by the beginning of the end of the afternoon, apologetic and caring. I tried to reassure him that I was all right, but he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Typical.
“Bella, your husband has just had the worst sin of humanity committed against him, you have every right to express your emotions of anger and sorrow.”
Did I mention that my brother was a very strong Catholic? So much so that he would not choose a wife until I told him that, finally, it was obvious that he was ‘head-over-heels’ in love with his present girlfriend and should take her as his wife. Being wise, he followed my council, and there was a glorious wedding to follow. I had always been eager to be an aunt, but, as of that day in time, Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster were childless.
I stared into George’s eyes: religious, kind, caring, but hard and stubborn. He would be hard to get around.
“Okay…” I sighed, “Coffee. Black.”
“Coffee. With lots of sugar and milk.”
“You need something sweet; you don’t indulge your sweet-tooth as much as you should. Living simply does not mean living squalor.”
“Oh yes?” I had never been the ‘good little Catholic girl’ in our family, and I wouldn’t have called my brother a strong Catholic either, but, as an adult, he had changed so much.
“Now, Bella, you shouldn’t stress yourself over this murder. In fact, I’ve booked you into a spa for a couple of days, all expenses paid.”
I couldn’t help but stare, I couldn’t help but let my jaw drop a little lower. I wanted to speak, I wanted to cry out my brother’s name, but I was too overcome with astonishment that my brother would do something like that for me.
I’d never even been to a spa before.