Hours passed before I finally regained consciousness. The hospital room in which I was placed was next to my sister's, as told to me by Fluttershy, who had arrived only an hour before. She and Pinkie Pie were the only ones present; Rainbow Dash was watching over Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and Twilight was trying to counsel Applejack and her family.
They all took it upon themselves to tell Scootaloo and my sister that Apple Bloom was... gone. They would have waited for me to awaken, but Sweetie Belle was the first to stir and Scootaloo practically demanded answers from them. Fluttershy choked up as she told me how the poor fillies cried their little hearts out. I cursed myself for not being there for my sister when she needed me most.
I scrambled out of bed, and Fluttershy helped me tidy up my hair and makeup before I hurried into the other room. The last thing I recall from that particular day was how Sweetie jumped off the bed and threw herself into my forelegs, only to cry herself asleep once more. It was possible that I wept with her.
The days that followed were no easier. I saw little of Applejack, though she spoke few words to me when we actually crossed paths. She acted in the same manner around our other friends. We had a mutual agreement to stay out of her mane until further notice, however. She was a busy mare who suffered a great loss and we didn't want to suffocate her with our concerns.
Although, I heard nothing more of the funeral until Monday morning. I managed to convince Sweetie Belle to go to school, so I was alone. I was in the middle of nothing in particular, only some experimental patterns, when the chime of the bell that hung above the boutique's door alerted me to a customer. “Hello?” somepony gently called. “Is anypony here?” The voice, laced with an elegant Manehattan accent, belonged to a mare I did not recognize.
Curious, I left my workroom to greet her. “So sorry for the delay!” I quickly glanced over the mare's cream-colored form. She was an earth pony, with beautiful orange hair that was tied up in a towering bun. All she wore was a wool shawl that was fastened around her shoulders with an emerald brooch. “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique, how may I help you on this fine morning?”
Her weary sapphire eyes narrowed at the sight of me. “I apologize for intruding upon your work so early in the morning,” she replied. “You must be Rarity, correct?”
“That is correct, Miss...?”
“Marmalade—Marmalade Orange. I am the Apple siblings' aunt.”
Aunt Orange! I immediately recognized her name from Applejack's story regarding the origin of her cutie mark. I was taken aback by her presence, but only momentarily. “Oh, Miss Marmalade—”
“You may all me 'Aunt Orange,' if you please.”
“—Aunt Orange, I'm terribly sorry for your loss. I'll happily assist you with anything you need.”
She smiled. “Thank you, dearie, but all I need right now is an outfit for the funeral.”
“Oh, my. You did not bring one with you?”
“No, my other ensemble is far too... fancy. I wasn't going to wear such a thing to my niece's funeral. No, I need something simpler. So does Mosely, my husband, but he won't stop by until tomorrow, as he's with Granny Smith right now.”
“That's perfectly fine. I'm sure Granny Smith needs the company more than your husband needs an outfit.” I lead her into the heart of the boutique, where I displayed my finished works, so that I could begin taking her measurements. As I retrieved my measuring tape, I asked, “So, will the rest of the Apple family be coming?” A silly question, I know, but a little smalltalk never hurt anypony.
She rested her shawl on a nearby chair, then she stood upon the podium. “Naturally,” she retorted. “All of them are on their way as we speak, from Appleloosa, Dodge Junction, Mustangia, and so on and so forth.”
Smiling, I stretched the tape over her withers. “That's good. Being surrounded by family will do all of you a lot of good.”
“Yes, we certainly need it. Applejack, especially.”
My ears perked up. “Oh? How... How is she handling things?”
Aunt Orange bit down on the corner of her lip and she cast me the kind of glance that told me that she wasn't sure whether she should say or not. Yet, she sighed and answered. “She... Well, it's hard to say how she's coping with Apple Bloom's death. I know that neither she or her brother took it very well, but Big Macintosh has been working through the grief like no tomorrow. Granny Smith said that he's also been to their parents' graves multiple times. Applejack, on the other hoof, has barely spoken a word to anypony the past few days. Mosely and I hardly got a 'hello' out of her when we arrived. She's just been so...” She twirled her hoof in the air.
“Robotic?” I inquired.
She nodded, extending her left foreleg to the side for the tape. “I can't imagine she's already gotten over it...” she continued quietly, as though she was now talking more to herself. “She's either hardened her heart against the pain or, Celestia help her, it hasn't entirely hit her yet.”
That wasn't too hard to believe. Applejack could be frustratingly stubborn at times, and I was certain that was true even in the face of tragedy. “When is the funeral, Aunt Orange?” I then asked, focusing my attention on her barrel. “I fear that nopony told Sweetie Belle and I.”
“Is that your sister, dearie?”
“Yes, she was close with Apple Bloom. She... walked away from the accident with only a few cuts and bruises, thank Celestia.” I was a fool for saying such a thing in front of a member of the Apple family.
Fortunately, Aunt Orange didn't appear at all offended or upset by my comment. “Well, that's good,” she said. “All three of those poor fillies could be dead right now, but it seems that Fate deemed it otherwise.” Again, she glanced at me. “Forgive me, I almost forgot to answer your question. The funeral will take place at Sweet Apple Acres in two days.”
I took the last measurement from her croup before I nodded and asked, “I take it she will be buried alongside her parents?”
“That's what her family wishes.” She inhaled, then exhaled a deep breath. “That's what Ambrosia and her husband would want.”
“And who would they be, Aunt Orange?”
“Apple Bloom's parents. Ambrosia Orange is my sister. She married into the Apple family when she wed her beloved Orchard Mason.”
She paused yet again. It was clear to me that she had a lot to get off her chest, so I remained quiet. I was used to it; since it distracted them from the discomfort of standing still, clients liked to chat. “She always loved the simple farm life,” she continued. “Our late grandparents owned a large citrus farm that set outside Trottingham, where we would often spend our summers when we were young. I didn't much care for it. As much as I loved spending time with them, the farm was just too... dirty. Ambrosia was my opposite in that regard. She loved getting her hooves caked with mud, especially if it came with the added bonus of helping out our grandparents.” She smiled sadly. “I miss her.”
I couldn't resist the urge to ask, “How did she and her husband pass?” After all, Applejack never talked about her parents before and I was as curious as a cat.
She sighed. “Carriage accident. Mosely and I watched Apple Bloom one weekend. She and Mason were on their way to pick her up when their carriage was struck by a taxi.” She sneered. “Fools ran a red light because their older-than-dirt client threatened to sue if he didn't make his lunch appointment.”
“Oh, dear, that's unfortunate.” That was all I could say, really. I didn't want to comfort her over deaths that occurred so long ago and it felt wrong to press the issue. Instead, I stepped down from the podium—draping the measuring tape around my neck. “Well, Aunt Orange, did you have anything specific in mind for your garb?” I inquired, changing the subject.
Shaking her head, she retrieved her shawl. “No, I trust your abilities as a seamstress.” She made her way out the door, then. “I'll bring both Mosely and the bits I owe you tomorrow.”
What I should have done was chase after her and tell her that she didn't need to pay me, but I let her leave undisturbed. I had work to do. I had a lot of work to do now that I knew when and where the funeral was to be held. Aunt Orange, her husband, myself, and Sweetie Belle all needed outfits for the occasion. Marmalade was in the right of mind to go in something simplistic, so that was what I kept in mind as I sketched various concepts down on parchment.
I worked well into the afternoon. I was successful in finishing Aunt Orange's ensemble, thankfully, and I was more than pleased with the outcome. Without a doubt, it was exactly what she wanted. It was a black cotton frock with a matching hat. To add a smidgen of elegance to it all, I tied gray ribbons around the midsection of both the dress and cap. Of course, the cap also had a short veil across the front. Mosely's drawn garb had a similar design. Except it was only a suit jacket, minus the ribbon. Once I had the stallion's numbers, it would take no time at all to throw together.
I stepped back to admire my work. Although, it wasn't long before I heard another customer come in. Only, it wasn't a customer. “Rarity?” a small, tired voice called. “You home?”
It was Sweetie Belle. “I'm back here, darling,” I called in reply. As she walked in, I hesitated asking her about her day. Her bloodshot eyes and disheveled mane were warning enough. I made my way to the couch, holding out my forelegs as I settled there. “Come here, Sweetie.”
Wordlessly, she dropped her saddlebags on the floor. She then hopped into my embrace—making herself comfortable between my forelegs. I nuzzled the top of her head. “Rough day?” I softly inquired.
She nodded.
I bit the side of my lip. “Those nasty fillies from school didn't torment you again, did they?”
She shook her head. “No, they didn't,” she sighed. “Miss Cheerilee wants the entire class to do something for Apple Bloom's funeral...” She turned her head to look at me. “The other kids want to make her cards and stuff like that, but Scootaloo and I want to do something special.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, Apple Bloom always liked my singing.” A small smile appeared on her face. “I... I think I'll sing for her.”
Smiling, I hugged her close to me. “That's a lovely idea, darling. What about Scootaloo? What does she want to do?”
My question changed Sweetie's mood immediately. Her smile fell and her ears folded back. She looked very, very uncomfortable. “She... wants to tell Applejack what really happened...”
I furrowed my brow. “Sweetie, darling, Scootaloo already told us what happened. Applejack knows that the brakes on your go-kart failed.”
“Yeah, but the thing is that Scootaloo and I weren't in the go-kart when it hit the tree.”
There was a sinking sensation in my belly. “Then, where were you?”
She looked away from me as she began to draw invisible circles in the couch's maroon fabric. “When Apple Bloom couldn't stop it, s-she and Scootaloo started yelling at each other. I-I got really scared, so I jumped out. I didn't really see w-what happened after that, but I think Scootaloo also jumped out.” She sniffled. “Apple Bloom didn't.”
I was speechless. That certainly explained how Sweetie and Scootaloo ended up with only minor injuries. I understood abandoning ship in such a dire situation, but would Applejack?
“Are we bad ponies, Rarity?” my sister then asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Once again, I gave her a comforting hug. “No, darling, you're not bad ponies. Neither of you meant for this to happen.” I carefully stroked her mane—smoothing down some of the wayward hairs. It was time for the subject to change. “Now, about your song... There are two days before the funeral. Do you have an idea what you're going to do?”
She shrugged. “I don't think I can write one...”
“Well, why don't you head up to Princess Twilight's castle? A little dragon told me that she had all of the library's books replaced and delivered there already. If you ask nicely, I'm positive she'll help you find some books on music.” I peeked at the clock; it was a quarter after four. With my magic, I carefully lowered her to the floor. “You better hurry, however. I want you home before sundown, okay?”
I saw some hesitation from her, and then she went on her way. “Okay,” I heard her mutter. “It's worth a try, I guess.”
“And tell Twilight that the funeral is in two days at Sweet Apple Acres, if she doesn't know already.”
“Okay.”
With the “click” of the closing door, I was alone in the boutique again. Groaning, I left my warm spot on the couch to return to work. There were still dresses that needed to be crafted. Yet, I found myself wishing that Sweetie hadn't told me what she did. Unlike with previous hours, my concentration was continuously broken by worrisome thoughts. My sister and Scootaloo jumped from the go-kart and lived, but Apple Bloom did neither. The little pegasus wanted to tell Applejack... As much as she deserved to hear the details behind her sister's death, there was a part of me that felt it was a bad idea for her to know.
I was filled with so much doubt and concern that it was a miracle I was able to get any work done that evening.