Bitter stung her nostrals. A brown blob filled Lu’s vision. Slowly she began to make scence of it. eyes. a nose. kindly wrinkles, short black hair unblurred. Father Sabismo’s ancient face brought a smile. “Child,” the voice, a gruff murmur at first, grew into his rich, heavy cockney accent, “you fainted, easy now.”
Lu swung her legs off the oak pew bench, “Je… ah, Pardon. I…” She fumbled far the thin case concealed in her blouse. She took one, lit it and drew a long drag of arid smoke before asking Father Sabismo if he minded her smoking. he only shook his head. They sat in silence for a while. Thin reeds of smoke drifting into the air. The coffin was closed now. Lu suddenly stood. “I’m going to look at that man.” Lu placed a palm on the smooth lid. She could not stop here. to have come so far to see the man who brought her mom such pain. With a breath, she shoved.
The church doors flung wide with a sudden gallantry that turned the heads of all in attendance. A deep faced man strolled through the threashold. For an instant, Mrs. Carrebelle believed she was staring at Elie VonMunchausen himself. yet, this man strolling in lacked the luster of granduar that famed the baron. but such is the way when stories become myth. a strong, jaw jutted forward, proud and reeking of noblity. not but the grey stubble of mutton chops on the great chin like carved granite. Lu closed her eyes. She had toiled about what it might be like to see the baron, her grandfather again after so many year. The emotional upwelling she had expect, prepared fore, came not. She watched him limp, his left leg aided heavily by a cane. even at 109, she thought, Munchausen moved too achingly, too stiff, too... something not quite Munchausenly. And the short blond haired boy padded along too close as if lead by leash and his face painted too much concerned.
Lu turned to the coffin. before her a man. This, she suddenly knew, with out question, that this was no imposter. Laying so still, once a source of terror, was no more than a lifeless doll, harmless even. at 109 years aged the baron was handsome. His noble brow furrowed with an extravagant air. his square jaw and unquestible facial hair rang with nobility. despire his pale, aged skin and heavy, sick-soaked lids eyes, he looked as if he might leap from this very box and catch the next cannonball to Hungary. Lu cursed her earlier fear. Lu recalled that she was once told, death humbles all. But the Baron took to the grave with a vainglorious flare that there could be no doubt. Lu felt her knees weaken as hot tears blurred the peaceful body. This was the man that mother spoke of him as a curse. The one person that caused her so, so much pain.
