Polly's Freedom

She ran her hand over the sateen layers of the casket to touch her grandfather’s cold hand. Harold, aged and worn, looked serene on the padded headrest. He’s really dead, her breath released, and her shoulders relaxed. The worst was over. He was gone. There was only one last act to perform for poor old Harold, she sneered to herself.

Her hand fumbled around her purse, as the other reached up to pull down on Harold’s jaw. The morgue suture snapped, and Harold’s mouth gaped open just before she plunged a large sausage down the hole. “Eat a fat cock, Harold!”

Heard loud and clear over the heavy drums and bass of Harold’s chosen funeral song, everyone gasped.

Not Luke Sparrow though. He understood Polly. He knew what she went through as The Great Harold Chan’s only granddaughter. For the last seven years, as the personal attorney to Mr. Chan, he watched Harold use power and money to torture people. He saw Harold’s bent thoughts become crooked deeds meant to control and oppress loved ones. For all of her forty years poor uncontrollable Polly got the brunt of Harold’s love.

Before anyone else could move, Luke was next to her. “Polly, come on let’s go.” He tugged on her arm and shuffled her away from the casket.

Her eyes stayed glued on the sausage spectacle, and she started to laugh as Luke pulled her out the door onto the church veranda away from the hundreds of onlookers.

“Hahahahaha! That felt wonderful!” She was breathless. Her act was outrageous, but joy was her reward, and the joy of rules broken was the sweetest. Harold hated whatever degraded the Chan name and Polly had done her best to perform the most vulgar act she could. He deserved all that he got.

Luke stared down at Polly’s pretty, plump heart-shaped face. Not one ounce of regret or embarrassment came from her clear brown eyes; they glowed, untamed and full of laughter.

A breeze took threads of newly greyed tresses and floated the curls about her head. She looked ethereal. He wanted to tell her he loved her. Every part of her. From her unconquerable heart to her petty nature, she was etched onto bone and soul.

Frozen pellets tatted on the roof from the cloud burst above, as he touched her rosy cheek and pulled her close.

Polly felt the tender press of a warm strong hand on her back. At twenty-seven Luke exuded the sureness of a much older man, the sort that always got what they wanted. Her eyes wandered down to a supple mouth that drew her forward as a magnet draws an opposed force. To feel that mouth on hers would be heaven.

One, two, three, she counted; a tool she learned from her turn at the psych ward courtesy of Harold. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Seven, she wanted to. TEN, boldly she stretched her neck towards that youthful mouth and pursed.

Luke's response to her summons was a soft, tender, and heartfelt embrace. Every ounce of love he’d stored for all these years poured towards her. He needed her to know how deeply he loved her, how much he wanted her, and that he would never let her go.

Polly's head spun, as mouths connected. She placed her hand on Luke’s chest and felt the smoothness of worsted wool and the hard body beneath. A torrent of sleet battered the structure and drowned out all but the thunderous beats of her heart. The heat between them kept her warm.

Lost to the embrace, she was unaware of the new presence on the veranda.

“Eh, hem.” Bradly Portsmouth gazed down at the floor as he pretended to cough. “Ms. Chan, ma'am, we need to leave.” As Polly's valet, he was accountable for her whereabouts. “You have an engagement to attend, and Mr. Sparrow, you must attend as well. The storm has caused some trouble on the roads, so we need to leave now.”

Drawn back to the present, Polly released her hold on Luke and gave a soft push to put space between them. Under her breath, she murmured, “No,” and looked towards Mr. Portsmouth, as though Luke was no longer there. Her message was clear. She’d come to her senses as to the new bud of the May-December romance, and she would go no further. “Lead the way.”

…

They sat together on the hard-leathered back seat of her Rolls-Royce, but no word was spoken between them.

Forever the plotter, Luke knew they needed to make amends before the last testament of Harold Chan was read aloud. He needed to warn her and prepare her for what was about to happen before they reached the last stop. And, should they not make amends before the announcement, the next few years could be very thorny for them both.

“Polly, we need to talk.” He spoke low and soft, as one does to feral creatures when you try to coax them to a cage.

“Look, Luke that shouldn’t have happened. So...sorry,” her tone was calm and respectful. “You are our attorney, and my place stands as the new head of the Chan household. There’s no more Harold, and the sweet taste of my freedom draws near--as soon as the announcement happens. Let’s not cross ranks, shall we?”

He knew her moods, so Luke opted to let her be. She would need to face the bomb Harold left for her, on her terms. But he would be there for the fallout. He just hoped she wouldn’t cast blame where she shouldn’t.

…

Luke stood before the small group of Harold Chan’s descendants and read out the terms of the testament. After the smaller matters were addressed, he moved on to the bulk of the estate and the terms that would apply. He had an unaccustomed look of worry as he began to read aloud the last personal letter.

“Polly Chan, you are to get the bulk of my estate, but because you are so stubborn and your nature perverse, you are to be wed by week’s end to Luke Sparrow, the only man that can be trusted to hold you back from catastrophe. Should you not marry by week's end, Luke Sparrow shall get the bulk of the estate, and you not a penny. Should you marry and separate, Luke Sparrow shall get the bulk of the estate, and you not a penny. Why Luke would want to shoulder the burden of you…well that's a mystery to me. He could have had any number of rewards for the work he’s done for me, but he asked for you. So, you Polly Chan are Luke Sparrow's granted request.”

Polly sat stunned at the news; shocked that she’d been bartered between men, and that Harold was able to keep such a brutal hold on her from beyond the grave. She was never a person to Harold, she was chattel; all because she was a woman and had thoughts of her own. Harold’s last act for her was much worse than any sausage she could stuff down a dead man's throat.

She looked at Luke and shook her head; betrayal was emblazoned on her face. He seemed concerned, almost desperate, but she couldn't care less. Why would she? She was chattel, an object, and they don’t feel. He could have asked for the whole estate, so why he wanted her too was beyond her. No matter, she refused to play any character of Harold and Luke’s crazy play.

“No!” She yelled forcefully and stood to leave. “To be on my own, free of men, that’s my goal. No money? That’s no problem. Years of Harold’s attempts to control me through my allowance taught me how to be poor, and that’s o.k. by me.” She gestured towards Luke. “Don’t you dare contact me! Stay away from me or there’ll be an order from the court.” At that, she stormed past Luke and out the door.

“Polly…,” was all Luke could say before she was gone. He wanted to tell her what happened. That he’d asked Harold for her hand, as a symbol of respect. But Harold, old and set, gave her away through the usual control of her money. Luke wasn’t too concerned though, once she cooled down, he would make her see the comedy that played out.

He understood Polly.

Postlude

Luke was never able to contact Polly to tell her what had happened, due to the stay-away court order that she placed the very next day. Though that wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because as Luke eventually came to understand, he should never have asked for her hand at all. That one request meant that she was chattel and that somehow she was owned by Harold. Polly could never be owned by anyone.

As for Polly, she went on to become a famous and wealthy photographer, who wandered the world to photograph other brave women that sought freedom. She never wed, but had a partner that understood her need to be free, and that was what Polly wanted.

Luke attempted, through attorneys, to convey Harold's money to her, but Polly refused to take a penny from Harold Chan.