It was today. The day Pamela was going to lay her dad to rest. It was two days after she had left Devlin's safe house.

She wore white. In fact, she made everyone wear white, just as her dad wished before he passed.

"Black is a sad color, Pam Pam. Wear white for me honey."

"What?" Pamela had given her dad a quizzical look that day. She had been seated by his bed, watching him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He had recently been shot then but was not in a hospital because he'd refused to go to a hospital. The day the shooting had occurred, he'd been unconscious and had been taken to the hospital to get the bullet removed and the second he regained consciousness, he demanded to be taken home. Pamela and her mom never understood why.

"What are you saying, Dad? White? What do you mean?"

He'd struggled to smile at her. "You know, I wore a white suit on my wedding day, with a touch of lavender. Everyone thought it was sweet, except, of course, your mother. She thought it was outrageous." He laughed and then it turned into fits of cough and loud breathing.

In a panic, Pamela had given him water to drink and after that, his eyes drooped and he lost consciousness again.

Pamela remembered with a pang how she'd waved off his words thinking he was being delirious, which was a normal thing post-surgery. She had also been worried to death about his health at that time. Now, it all made sense.

Yes, her dad had died a painful death but she was not going to give him a sad burial filled with darkness and sombreness. She was going to give him what he wanted; a white, unique funeral, one that he would look down on from the skies and feel happy and free, just like the doves she was planning to set free at the funeral.

She wore a white skirt suit of appropriate length and a top with sleeves and white high-heeled pumps with a white hat to cap off the look. She didn't apply makeup. She owed him that in a way. She didn't care who was going to be there; old classmates, neighbors, business associates - she was going to look bare and make-up free.

She walked down the stairs and saw her mom clad in white, looking beautiful but sad nevertheless. Her mom saw her and gave her a sad little smile. Pamela returned the smile.

"It's time." She said to Pamela.

As they drove to the Cemetery, it began to hit her that her dad was gone - for good. The little she had of him was going to leave her today. She suddenly had the urge to cry but swallowed hard against the knot that formed in her throat and shut her eyes tight. She didn't want to start bawling her eyes out in front of her mother who looked like she was hanging on by a thread.

When they got there, she was taken aback by the amount people she saw. Friends, relatives, business associates, neighbors, and well-wishers; all were there, hugging her, and supporting her. Pamela was touched. None of her personal friends were there, but the fact that her parent's friends were available was enough for her.

It was a simple service. Soon, her father was buried and the doves were set free. As she looked up and watched the doves fly towards the skies and to their freedom, she prayed her dad's spirit would be free too.

After that, her mother was called to say something about her father.

"Robert was not just a husband. He was a friend, he was a lover, and also a father to me. Did you know a few times after our divorce we would hook up in a hotel or something?"

The whole audience was plunged into laughter. Pamela didn't find it funny though. Her mother shouldn't have left in the first place.

When it was time for Pamela to make her speech, she held a daffodil bouquet and walked up to face everyone. As she raised her head to speak, she caught a figure in the crowd. He was wearing white too. She took in a shaky breath and her heart skipped as their eyes met. At that moment, tears rolled down her eyes. Her mom reached for her and gave her a handkerchief.

She wiped her eyes and tore her gaze from Marcel's face. She did have a personal friend among those that came after all. She hadn't expected him to come but the fact that he had come, despite his history with her father, meant a lot to her.

Yes, there was a history between Marcel and her dad. He had been the whole reason they broke up. She didn't regret it though, or did she? All she had ever done was for her dad -  even going to the Mafia's den.

Then she remembered Devlin. He hadn't come. She didn't need him anyway, he would only worsen her mood. She sighed and opened up the sheet of paper she had written her eulogy, which of course, her mom had insisted on.

As she wanted to start, she changed her mind and folded the paper. Her dad had been around her all her life; she could at least say a few words about him without holding a paper.

"Robert Hadlee King was a great man. He had so many flaws but he had the biggest heart in the world, which he used to love me, and every person he crosses paths with."

Marcel must be scoffing at me right now, Pamela thought.

Pamela had met Marcel two years ago when she had gone with her dad to a wine-tasting party. One of his business associates had launched his wine and had invited everyone. She had been reluctant to go, but her dad had pressed her because her mom was out of town. Being the daddy's girl that she was, she had agreed to attend.

As a popular and well-known businessman, Robert King had been called away by so many people, discussing this and that, and Pamela felt more alone - well until she spilled wine on a hot blonde guy.

"I'm so sorry!" She had apologized, trying to dab his suit with her handkerchief.

"It's alright," He smiled. "I'll take care of it."

She expelled a relieved breath. "Thank you." She'd wanted to turn away from his beautiful blue eyes when he said;

"But you'll be my date for the evening."

Pamela looked at him with raised brows. "Excuse me?"

Then he leaned in and whispered fiercely. "Those classy and rich girls wouldn't want a clumsy wine-reeking freak for a date, would they?"

Pamela had laughed heartily at his joke. She'd wanted to tell him she had a date, which was her father but he sucked at being a companion, and besides, she knew how to handle her father.

"Well, I guess you're in luck that I'm not one of those rich classy girls."

Pamela had maneuvered the situation that her dad hadn't seen Marcel for the remainder of the evening and had even left her to go home, but on the condition that Philip kept a very close watch on her, of course. She'd bribed Philip to steer clear of her by giving him the evening off with his then newly wedded wife, which he'd pounced on, as a rabbit would pounce on a juicy carrot and so left alone with Marcel, they had talked, danced and ate whatever was shared.

There was a beach behind the house and they decided to walk through the beach. Crashing against the shore, small waves washed the night's debris onto the land and untouched golden sand covered the floor as far as her eyes could see. The gentle evening sea breeze rustled through her hair, soothing her and bringing a sense of calmness. They didn't know when they entwined their hands.

It was so peaceful, so scenery, so when they stopped to look at each other, the whole world seemed to be at a standstill.

Though it was dark, Pamela could still see the rough edges of his masculine jaw and a shadow of a beard which he would no doubt shave to smoothness. His nearness had turned her on, filled her nostrils, made her weak and susceptible to his touch, and when he raised her face to kiss her, she had been ready.

"Pamela?"

Pamela looked up sharply to see her mom looking at her with worry. She looked around and saw she was at the funeral and people were waiting for her speech. She must have zoned out.

"I know how hard this is on you, honey -"

"I'm fine." She said firmly. She raised her head and cleared her throat while her mom went back to stand with the crowd.

"Thank you Robert King for being a great dad..." She started.

Minutes later, the funeral was over and everyone headed to her house for light refreshments and condolences but Pamela stayed back and said she would meet them there. Her mother reluctantly agreed and Pamela was left alone. She walked to the freshly built sepulcher and knelt before it.

She stared at the epitaph for a while, thoughts swirling in her head and tears building. She felt more alone than she had ever felt all her life. Was this how it was going to be? Will the pain fade? Will the sad memories become hazier and hazier until they became a mere flicker in her dreams?

A hand gently touched her shoulder. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"I thought you left with the others."

"Couldn't. Was worried about you."

"I'm fine, Marcel. I just need some time alone."

He knelt beside her. "I'm not leaving you."

For a moment Pamela shut her eyes trying to come to terms with his presence, but couldn't. Something wanted her alone, with her dad no doubt.

She turned to look at him. "Please? I'll meet you at the house."

He looked into her eyes for a while before giving a slow reluctant nod. "If I don't see you after thirty minutes, I'm gonna march down here to cart you off on my shoulders."

"Got it." She grinned at him and he stood up, walked towards his car, and drove off.

The faint hum of the receding car was not enough to overshadow her rising sobs that were coming from deep in her lungs. She forced her hands against her lips to keep it in but it kept pushing its way forward and so she let go, sobbing bitterly.

Just then a hand touched her shoulder again. The sobs automatically stopped and she wiped her face quickly. How wise of Marcel to pretend he had left to find out if she was okay - because she wasn't and could use a hug at the moment.

"I thought I told you I was fine."

"Are you now, Pam Pam?"

Shocked, Pamela spun around slowly to see the one person she had been dreading - possibly hoping - to see all day long.

Devlin.

~

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