Whitefern Read Online Free

respect he deserves?” I asked Arden when I saw that no one else was coming and the service was about to begin.
    He turned his amber-colored eyes on me. They were sparkling, but not with tears, the way I was sure mine were. His looked more excited than sad.
    â€œMany of his friends and older clients have died. Besides, people always think, ‘The king is dead. Long live the king.’ ”
    â€œWhat does that mean, Arden? You’re the new king, so they don’t care about Papa anymore?”
    â€œSomething like that,” he said. “After all, he can’t do anything more for them, but I can.” He patted himself on his chest.
    Then he smiled, and for the first time, I realized that Arden wasn’t as upset about Papa’s death as I thought he should be. He was the head of the household now, and he thought he didn’t need anyone else’s permission to do whatever he wanted.
    Then Arden surprised me by getting up to say a few words, honoring Papa for building such a successful business and promising everyone that he would do his best to uphold, protect, and further develop whatPapa had begun. The speech ended up being more of an assurance to our customers that he would keep the business successful than it was an homage to Papa.
    When he was finished, he walked back to his seat beside me, his eyes searching my face for admiration and obedience, but instead, I turned away.
    â€œYou could put aside your grief for a moment and compliment me,” he whispered, “especially in front of these people. I am your husband, the head of the household, dedicated to protecting you and Sylvia. I deserve respect, more respect, now.”
    â€œToday is Papa’s day,” I said. That was all I said, but it was enough.
    He turned away and didn’t even hold my hand at the grave site. I had my arm around Sylvia, who finally began to realize what was happening.
    â€œAudrina, we can’t leave Papa down there,” she said when we were about to leave the cemetery.
    The funeral workers would fill the grave after we all left. It was far too painful for me, and for Sylvia, to watch that. Arden had thrown the first shovelful of dirt onto Papa’s lowered coffin. Although it was meant to be symbolic, it seemed to me he did it eagerly, even joyfully.
    I could feel Sylvia’s body tighten. She whispered, “Nooooo,” but I tightened my arm around her and kept her from charging forward to stop him or anyone else from covering the coffin.
    I practically had to drag her away and at one point looked to Arden for help, but he was too busy shaking hands with those who had come to the burial. He wasbehaving as if he was conducting just another business meeting. I even heard him mention some investment to Jonathan Logan, one of Papa’s oldest clients, claiming that before he died, Papa had told him to tell Jonathan about it.
    More people came to our house than to the church or the cemetery. I overheard that Arden had Mrs. Crown contact clients to give them the details of the funeral, but also to make sure they knew that if the church service conflicted with something they’d rather do, they were more than welcome to come to the house instead. He was treating it more like a party. I knew that people needed to avoid excessive grief and needed hope more than depression, but the way Arden was organizing things, I was almost expecting a band and dancing girls to show up.
    Arden’s boisterous conversations and continuous laughter stung. The whole thing confused Sylvia, who sometimes looked as if she might attack someone for smiling. I thought it best to get her up to her room, telling her to change and then lie down.
    â€œYou don’t realize how tired you are,” I said.
    She looked afraid to close her eyes, but eventually she did, and she fell asleep quickly.
    When I went back downstairs, I was confronted again with loud laughter and conversation that had grown more