“I’m happy for you!” Cole beamed. “UCSF? Is that University of California at San Francisco?”
“That’s the one, the teaching hospital, actually. I’ll be specializing in pediatric trauma,” Ben explained.
Cole laughed out loud. “This is too much.” He shook his head, a broad smile spreading across his face.
Erin and Ben looked at each other, looking for an explanation of Cole’s strange reaction.
“Me, too,” Cole said with a smile.
“What?” Erin said with a baffled expression.
“I’ve been offered a desk at the Chronicle. Should I take it? Is it all right?”
“All right? It’s perfect!” Erin exclaimed.
“This is too much.” Ben laughed. “Well, then,” Ben cleared his throat and lifted his lemonade glass, “to new beginnings!”
They all clanked their glasses together and laughed. Erin reached across the table and patted Cole’s hand as Ben smiled warmly at the sight of his wife and her father. He knew it hurt Erin not having family in her life. Now she was somehow more beautiful, more alive, and certainly happier than he had ever seen her.
Cole’s time in California passed too quickly. The gap between Cole and Erin, that each feared would be awkward and difficult, was swept away as easily as the discarded Christmas wrappings. Her feelings toward Cole were based on stories and recollections that her mother shared. She had the advantage of a history with Cole, so in a way she already knew him. Cole, on the other hand, was starting fresh and that was part of the fun.
Erin’s resemblance to Ellie amazed Cole. Now with each hour they were together, Ellie slipped farther away and Erin came into her own. She was his daughter, his friend, and a caring, loving mother to his beautiful granddaughter, Jenny. Cole’s new family filled a void in his heart, a void so filled before with the memory of Ellie that it had kept out other people and other chances for happiness.
The time Cole spent with Ellie before her death freed that space. She would always be a part of his life. Her gift was the secret she kept—the little girl she raised and nurtured. The tragedy of Ellie and Erin’s estrangement was part of the healing, too. As painful as it was, without it, and Cole finding Erin, things may have turned out differently. The revelation that Cole was Erin’s father was more a relief than a shock.
The sound of Erin calling him “Dad” was a tonic to Cole, and Jenny’s small voice calling for her “Gran’pa” was intoxicating. Most fathers dream of a mate for their daughter from the time she’s born, through the teen and dating years with the pitches and fits of terror and anger. Cole was presented a son-in-law who was everything he could ever wish for Erin. The fact that he and Ben were becoming friends was a bonus almost too good to be true.
Christmas always meant a time of loneliness for Cole. After his parents died, he always spent the holidays alone. There were the parties and get-togethers, of course, but Christmas was a time for families, and for years Cole had none. This year’s Christmas was like the ones he remembered as a child: the excitement, the presents, the cookies, and the big dinner with family around a big table. This year brought back the wonderful memories of Christmases past that Cole had buried.
They all exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve morning because Ben would be on call that evening and Christmas Day. The Cub’s sweatshirt Cole brought Jenny was about six sizes too big. Now that they were moving to San Francisco, maybe a Cubbies sweatshirt wasn’t the best gift anyway. He took comfort in the thought of buying her one that fit at her first Giants game. But the hand puppet Cole brought for her was a big hit. With it he was able to tell her stories at bedtime twice before he left. Cole forgot how many silly voices he could do. With the sock puppet channeling his inner child, and Jenny’s laughter prompting him, he happily told stories until Erin came in to say it was time for lights out.
Ben was pleased with the anatomy book, and Cole found him thumbing through it several times. He showed Cole and Erin several color plates that illustrated arteries and nerves. Erin tried the cashmere sweater on immediately and looked lovely in it. The color was perfect, and the fit couldn’t have been better.
Ben gave Cole a set of DVDs of Sixties British Bands. All of Cole’s favorites singing in black-and-white and living color! Though only Cole was a fan of the music, Ben insisted they click through the chapters and sample the various bands. Cole’s biggest thrill came when Erin sang along with Chad and Jeremy’s “A Summer Song.” Erin sang in a soft, lovely voice and knew all the lyrics. Ellie always loved “A Summer Song.” Erin teared briefly as she told how her mother used to sing along whenever she heard it on the radio.
Cole started to pick up bows and discarded wrapping paper, when Erin told him to sit down. “We’ve one more gift!” she said brightly.
Jenny struggled to pick up a package a bit too big and heavy for her, stumbled her way across the living room, and dropped it in Cole’s lap. The package was wrapped in red foil and tied with wide gold metallic ribbon. As Cole unwrapped his gift, he looked up and smiled at Erin. She covered her mouth. Her eyes were moist.
“Well, what have we here?” Cole said to Jenny.
“Open it!” she squealed.
Cole gently removed the ribbons and slid his finger behind the tape. The paper revealed a burgundy scrapbook. Cole opened the cover and read the title page. “For My Father. Your Life, My Life, and the Memories I Wish We Shared. With All My Love, Erin.” As Cole began to turn the pages, he was astounded to find pictures of him as a boy. On the first page was a picture of Cole and Ellie in about sixth grade standing in front of her house, down the street from his aunt and uncle. There were pictures of Ellie in junior high and high school, Cole and Ellie in college, on trips, at weddings, parties, and at the funeral of Cole’s father. Along the way, Erin carefully placed tickets, notes, menus, and pressed flowers.
In the center of the book was a picture of Ellie, very pregnant, standing next to a VW Bug—they were the same shape. Cole smiled, understanding Ellie’s joke perfectly. The next pictures were of Ellie holding infant Erin in a hospital bed along with a certificate bearing a little purple pair of footprints. The next pages were Erin’s school pictures grade by grade, report cards, field day ribbons, student-of-the-month stickers, and an eighth-grade graduation picture. The high school pictures showed a shy girl in braces, then glasses, always standing away from the group—then suddenly, a tall thin beauty in a prom dress and then a cap and gown.
Many of the photos were just Ellie and Erin. They looked so affectionate, more like best friends than mother and daughter. The back of the book was a mix of photos and clippings of articles of Cole’s, Ellie in the newspaper for some service group she was in, Erin’s nursing school graduation, wedding announcement and photos. The last facing pages were 8x10s. On the right page was a picture of Cole and Ellie standing in front of the botanical gardens in Golden Gate Park; on the left was a picture of Erin, Ben, and Jenny in front of the floral Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. The very last page was blank and in the center was a yellow Post-It note that read “Family Photo.”
“I love you, Erin,” Cole said with a lump in his throat.
“You like it?”
Cole couldn’t answer and just nodded his head. Erin crossed the room and put her arms around his neck.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
“Where did you get all this stuff?” Cole asked.
“After momma’s funeral, I went to see Anne. All of momma’s stuff was boxed and in the garage. Chad disappeared, and Allen was—well, you know. Anyway, Anne gave me everything.”
“That must have been rough.”
“Actually, I felt sorry for her. Seems my life was a kind of weird twist on Cinderella. Anne is now just a sad, lonely girl; all alone in that big house. Allen didn’t have anything, not even the house. To cover his tracks, he put it in Anne’s name.”
“So, the ugly stepsister got hers in the end, huh?”
“Come on, be nice. I know how it feels to not ha
ve a family. The sad thing is she has no chance of a happy ending.”
“You guys ready?” Ben called from the family room door. “I’m all set!”
Erin stood, wiped her eyes, and said, “One more surprise.” She took Cole’s hand and pulled him from the chair. “Picture time!”
Ben set up a tripod and camera and they gathered in front of the Christmas tree, as Jenny and Buddy the dog, kicked, rolled, stumbled and chased a big colorful ball around the room.
“Okay, everybody, sit down,” Ben directed.
Ben fiddled with the settings on the camera and raced to join the group. After three attempts, he finally arrived before the camera clicked.
SEVEN
On his first morning back in Chicago, Cole arrived at the Sentinel to find his desk strewn with pink message slips, cards with candy canes taped to them, and two little gift bags with white and red tissue sticking out from the tops. He logged onto his computer and waded through dozens of holiday e-mails decorated with elves, Santas, and twinkle lights.
There were e-mails from three Nigerian princes with funds locked up in Swiss banks that needed only $1,000 to retrieve them and who’d be happy to split the fortune if he would help. There were dozens of discount Viagra and Prozac dealers north and south of the border willing to send Cole a supply of pills with just his credit card number. Altogether, there were 118 messages, eight of which were actually from people he knew and cared about.
One of the e-mails he cared about came from Mick Brennan. Cole dreaded telling Brennan of his decision to leave the paper. He had quit the paper several times, and Brennan always took him back. This time, there would be no next time.
Brennan’s cancer wouldn’t give him another six months. Since Cole’s early 20s, Mick Brennan was mentor, friend, and boss to him. Someone once was so bold as to call Brennan “Cole Sage’s Patron Saint.” Maybe they were right.
The e-mail was very short, very simple: “See me.” Cole stood and clicked the mouse, closing his e-mail. He made his way to the elevator, looked down at the button, then turned and walked toward the stairs. The two flights of stairs were taken two at a time. Cole reached the stairwell door breathing deeper but not winded.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Welcome back. Good trip?” Brennan sounded tired. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling.
“Yeah, it was nice. Erin is amazing. A lot like her mom. It’s kind of weird being a grandfather, though. Ages you a bit.” Cole regretted mentioning aging. Mick had lost at least twenty pounds since Cole left for California. His color was ashen, and his clothes seemed to hang on him like old drapes. The chemotherapy left only wisps of his thick grey hair. His eyes were sunken and ringed with an uncharacteristic darkness that Cole recognized as death’s claim on his old friend.
“Close the door.” Brennan sat up and leaned his elbows on his desk.
For a moment, Cole toyed with the idea of standing but realized Brennan had more on his mind than Cole’s trip west. He took a seat in front of the desk.
“I have something to say, and I don’t want to be interrupted. I want you to listen, then do what I ask. I’m not going to give you the ‘we’ve know each other a long time’ guilt trip, so relax.” Brennan cleared his throat and winced at the discomfort. “Damn chemo tears the hell out of your throat. Look, here’s the long and short of it. I don’t have anybody. Argue if you want, but that kid of mine hasn’t wanted anything to do with me in years. And divorce is divorce. You’re the closest thing I have to family. As shitty as it seems, you’re it.” Brennan gave a soft chuckle. “I want you out of here. After I’m gone, the new guy—or, God forbid, gal—won’t be... well, it’ll just be different. You can do better. I know since the thing with Ellie, you’ve changed, returned to form, whatever you want to call it. You can do better. I’ll write you letters, whatever you need. Probably nothing is necessary. You can land something easy. Get out of Chicago. For your own good, go out west, maybe. Be near the girl.”
“You’re going to need—”
“I don’t need you looking all down in the mouth while this cancer eats up what’s left of me, that’s for damn sure. No thanks. Pretty Indian nurse, that’s what I want to go out looking at.”
“I just thought that I could be there for you.” Cole felt a lump come up in his throat.
“I know, I know, and I appreciate it. Just grant me this, let me go out with some dignity, not an 80-pound slobbering morphine addict, I don’t want you to see me like that. You promise?”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
“Settled. Another thing. I don’t want anybody going through my stuff when I’m gone. I’ve put it all in writing. It all goes to you. Burn it, bury it, shred it, sell it, give it to the Goodwill. It’s all yours to do with what you will. Just keep it private. No yard sale. I don’t want anybody around here ogling my stuff. Bunch of vultures is already circling my office.”
“Agreed.” Cole sighed in total understanding.
“Last thing. I’ve been squirreling away money for my retirement. Not going to make it. I’m leaving it to you. Two conditions: You said you were sending that kid you met to college. You set up something in Ellie’s name? Put a chunk of mine in there to keep it going. I want you to spend the rest. Go around the world, buy a Harley, I don’t know, whatever strikes your fancy. I should have done it years ago. Kept saving for a rainy day. Don’t you wait, Cole.” Brennan coughed deeply and opened the top drawer of his desk. “Here. I wrote this. This is all I want. It’s my obit. I want it printed as is. See to it. No big bullshit flowery tribute. Bastards don’t mean it anyway. Promise?”
“Promise.” Cole fought back tears. He knew his friend was dying but refused to see how close he was.
“Here.” Brennan pushed a business card across the top of the desk. “My lawyer. Call him. He’ll fill you in on the rest. This is all too morbid. Let him earn his money.”
“All right.”
“What are you working on?”
“What?” Cole was surprised by the shift in direction the question took.
“You got anything started? I need a feature piece to run in the Sunday supplement. There has been too much fluff lately. I need some meat.” Brennan said all he would say about his affairs. It was back to business, and Cole was relieved, but he wondered how much longer Brennan would be able to keep working.
“I’ll see what I can come up with.” Cole took a deep breath and rubbed the arms of the chair. “I have a couple of ideas. I’ll let you know this afternoon?”
The old friends sat and talked for almost an hour about Cole’s trip to Erin’s, Jenny, the Christmas gifts, and Ben’s new job in San Francisco. The pride Cole showed in his new family pleased Brennan. Several times, he closed his eyes and tried to picture his family when he was young and his son was a boy. Cole would think he dozed off, but then Brennan would smile and he knew he was listening. The smile he saw was at Brennan’s own memories, but Cole would never know.
Two days after Cole returned to Chicago, a manila envelope arrived with an 8x10 of his family in the back yard. Cole was on the bench, Jenny on his lap, Erin with her hand on his shoulder, Ben with his arm around Erin, and Buddy the dog peeking out from behind the bench. Cole put it on the last page of the scrapbook under the clear plastic corners Erin ready for the final picture.
“Nice,” Cole said to himself. And it was.
Cole approached his cubicle and could hear his phone ringing. He quickened his step and grabbed the receiver from across the desk.
“Sage.”
“Cole? It’s Ben.”
“Anything wrong?” Cole said, feeling his heart rate speed up.
“Beware the Ides of March?” Ben laughed. “No, no, everything’s fine. Everybody’s great.”
“All settled in? How’s the new house?” Cole was relieved to find there was no emergency. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“The house is great! Erin has been breaking the bank, though,
getting it decorated. Of course, my mom is helping her. I think she suffers from the ‘my son’s a doctor so he must be rich’ syndrome.” Ben laughed. “The reason I’m calling is I need to pick your brain.”
“Slim pickins.”
“He rode the nuke down in Dr. Strangelove, right?” The thing that Cole learned to appreciate about his son-in-law was his amazing ability to connect words, sounds, and obscure references from out of nowhere.
“Yep, he’s the one ‘workin’ for Mel Brooks!’ too.” Cole offered his best Slim Pickens impersonation.
“Blazing Saddles.”
“Got it.”
“I have a patient.” Ben’s tone signaled the real reason for the call. “Little girl named Camilla. She’s in pretty bad shape. How much do you know about child abuse? Erin said you’re an encyclopedia of social issues and causes. I need to be pointed in the right direction.”
“I fear my daughter has an inflated appreciation of what I do. What’s up?”
“Camilla is the third little girl either attacked or killed in the last three months around here.”
“There is a lot of abuse in the world, Ben. What makes you think there’s a connection? Three deaths are tragic but not a lot to go on.”
“I think there’s a pattern. The pathologist who examined them is a friend of a college buddy. I met him for lunch the other day. He said the two girls died of broken necks. Snapped spinal cords, like ringing a chicken’s neck. The injuries indicate a twisting motion of great force. The bones of children their size are no match for the power of an adult with adrenalin pumping. Aside from being raped, Camilla has ruptured discs, two cracked vertebrae, and torn neck ligaments. As far as the police are concerned, the attacks are random incidents that occurred in three different corners of the city. The detective I spoke with told me that every available resource has been assigned to a task force trying to head off a war between Asian and Mexican street gangs. Until they have something concrete to go on, the murders aren’t a priority. Seems the mayor is more worried about damage to the tourist trade than the protection of children.”
Cellar Full of Cole: A Cole Sage Mystery #2 Page 5
