From Ashes to Honor

by Loree Lough

  Of course he felt sorry for her, and sure, he knew that losing Eddy had been rough on her. And packing up the house they’d shared to move from New York to Maryland couldn’t have been easy, either, especially with two rambunctious little boys.

  But hundreds of people had lost their spouses on 9/11.Surely they weren’t all still wallowing in self-pity, especially if they had kids. Eddy had been gone nearly ten years. When would Cora learn to cope with the grief and get on with her life, if not for her own sake, then for her boys’?

  You’re a fine one to talk. Because if it hadn’t been for his pal Griff—

  “We saw a really bad crash on the news,” Raymond said, changing the subject. “Did you take some of those people to the hospital?”

  His brain zapped back to the here and now as he admitted that, on any given day, a dozen accidents might foul up the Baltimore roadways, particularly during rush hour. Before he had a chance to ask the location of the one Ray had mentioned, Ricky gave his brother a playful shove. “Shut up, Raymo. Austin doesn’t want to talk about blood and guts while he’s eating.”

  Ray screwed up his face and doubled up a fist. “If you don’t quit callin’ me that, I’m gonna—”

  Rick snickered. “My mistake. I meant to call you—”

  “Raymond, Richard, please!” And Cora, God save her whiny soul, ran both hands through her hair. “Can’t I have just one hour without your incessant bickering?”

  If her voice seemed shrill to Austin, what must it sound like to the twins, who had to listen to it all day, every day? Their young shoulders sagged as sour expressions replaced their grins. “Sorry, Mom,” came their droning monotone.

  His heart ached for them. They were only behaving like normal kids, right? Or did it only seem that way to him because he didn’t have kids of his own?

  Something told him his mindset would be the same, even if he had to deal with them 24-7-365, because he wanted kids, and he’d have a houseful, if he could find a woman who didn’t consistently put her own needs ahead of her children’s. A woman like Mercy.

  Far better to focus on the promise he’d made to Eddy. Like it or not, he’d watch over this woman and these boys, no matter how hard she made it.

  Austin clapped his hands once. “I’m starved, so what say we eat!”

  Two chairs squealed across the linoleum and the kids dug into the fast food bags, distributing burgers and fries and sodas with the smooth efficiency of a Vegas dealer, chattering the whole time. When Ray got up for extra ketchup, Rick said, “How ‘bout grabbin’ the mustard, long as you’ve got your big head in the fridge?”

  “We’re identical twins,” Ray shot back. “If my head’s big, so’s yours.”

  “Yeah, but you’re four minutes older, so your head’s four minutes bigger.”

  Even Ray had to chuckle at that one, and Austin joined them. He didn’t think he could love them more if they’d been his own flesh and blood. To add to his pleasure, the older they got, the more they reminded him of his partner and best friend—a miracle in itself, since they’d only been one when their dad died. Their mannerisms, wry sense of humor, genuine desire to please the people they loved, just like Eddy.

  He got a kick out of listening to their exchanges, and marveled at the way their minds worked. Much as he wanted to zero in on them now, he knew he’d better keep a wary eye on their mother. Earlier, she’d claimed to have recognized the worn-out look on his face. Well, he’d seen the one she wore right now, too. At times like these, Cora reminded him of a Mylar balloon, filled too full of helium. Any minute, she’d pop, and the twins would react to the explosion by trading their happy banter for sullen silence.

  An idea dawned, and he decided to go for broke. “So Cora, what would you say to joining me for a walk?”

  And Cora, true to form, pursed her lips. Oh, how he wanted to say “Keep that up and your face will freeze that way!”

  “I have to do the dishes and there’s laundry in the dryer, and—”

  “Schweetheart,” he said in his best Bogart imitation, “yer breakin’ my heart.” He pushed back from the table, and, standing, held out one hand.

  Cora sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. I might as well go. I know you, Austin Finley, and you’ll pester me even longer and harder than these two.”

  Austin winked at them and adopted a bratty, sing-song voice: “She doesn’t know everything.”

  Now really, he thought as Cora led the way, how sad is it that her kids were out-and-out relieved to be rid of her, even for half an hour or so? Somehow, he had to try again to convince her to see a counselor, harder this time. “So what have you been up to lately, m’dear?”

  “Oh, mostly just more of the same.”

  He refused to join in her self-pity game. “Same what?”

  “You know, cleaning and cooking, doing laundry, garden—”

  “But last time I was here, you were actually excited about getting a job. Down at the bookstore, right?”

  “I can’t commit to a work schedule. The boys need me.”

  Austin groaned. “Aw, now, that’s just plain nuts. They’re great kids, thanks to you. And you know as well as I do that they can be trusted for a couple hours a week. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky, find a boss who’ll let you work while they’re in school.”

  She continued walking. “Are you kidding?” she blurted.“You saw the way they went at each other before supper. If I wasn’t there to referee, it’d be that times a thousand.”

  “Will you sock me on the arm if I say that’s ridiculous?”

  He didn’t have to look at her to know she’d frowned. Again.“Cora,” he continued, “seriously. You’re a girl. What you don’t know about boys could fill a book. No, not a book. A whole library.”

  She stopped walking. “Excuse me?”

  “My brother and I fought all the time. Hurled stuff at each other—including insults—even drew blood on more than a couple occasions.” He chuckled. “And we loved every toothand-nail minute of it.” The memory inspired a crooked smile.It felt good, thinking about Avery without feeling like a lowdown heel.

  “I’m sure your mother didn’t approve.”

  Oh, go ahead, Cora. Rain on my parade, why don’t you. “If she did, it sure didn’t show.”

  She looked genuinely surprised. “But … but how did she stand all the noise?”

  He laughed. “She didn’t. She was at work. Spent every hour she could at the local flower shop.”

  Cora picked up her pace. “It might be nice, putting my teaching degree to use after all this time.”

  “And if you can convince the boys’ principal to hire you, it’d be the best of both worlds.”

  “Both?”

  Eddy often complained, as they rode from one call to another, that sometimes, it seemed Cora worked hard at being thick. The longer he knew this woman, the more inclined Austin was to agree.

  “So are you dating anyone these days?”

  The question brought Mercy to mind, and broadened his grin. “No.” Should he tell her about the former Dr. Samara? Nah. Then he’d have to go into the whole story, and Cora would work herself into a snit, saying stuff like “The woman isn’t good enough for you” and “Of all the nerve! Who did she think she was, judging you?”

  “I might not know everything there is to know about boys, but I know a fib when I hear one.” She smiled up at him. “Spit it out, mister. Who is she, and why haven’t I met her yet?”

  It did his heart good to see that light in her eyes again. Cora had always been a fine-looking woman when she wore something other than a scowl. “It’s a long story.”

  “We can walk around the block again. As you so astutely pointed out, my boys can take care of themselves for an hour or so.”

  He pocketed his hands. “Well, I knew her in New York.Sorta. And now I know her here.”

  Cora giggled. “Will you sock me on the arm, the way you did your brother, if I say that’s ridiculous? What kind of informatio
n is that?”

  Shrugging, he said, “It’s all I have.” For now, he added mentally.

  “I remember that paramedic you were dating a year or so ago. Good grief. What a mess that was.”

  Though he agreed, Austin didn’t say so out loud.

  “Every woman you’ve dated has wanted you to give up your work. Part of me gets that, because, well, you know, it’s dangerous.But part of me is like, well, they knew what you did for a living when they agreed to go out with you. What is it with women, thinking they can change a man?”

  “Y’got me by the feet.” In truth, Austin didn’t understand that, either. “Never entered my head to ask a gal to give up working at the animal shelter or teaching kindergarten.”

  “I can see how working around animals could be hazardous.“She shivered. “All those sharp teeth and claws. But kindergarten? What’s dangerous about that job!”

  “Are you kidding? All those germs? And they don’t call ‘em ankle biters for nothin’, y’know.”

  “Austin Finley, you’re a nut, but honestly? I don’t know how I’d have survived all these years. If it hadn’t been for you—”

  “C’mon, now. Knock it off. You know how easily I blush.”

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  He liked the way she said that, with the firm confidence of a friend.

  Maybe next time he visited, he would share his news about the amazing Dr. Samara.

  But he hadn’t talked with Mercy lately. Every time he’d picked up the phone, something—work, boat chores, errands, the wreck on I-95, then Cora and the kids—prevented him from dialing her number. He felt fairly certain he’d been the one who’d promised to call, set up dinner on the boat. For all he knew, that parting comment that had been drowned out by his squealing pickup’s door had been the dating version of “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” Besides, the phone lines went both ways, didn’t they? If she’d really wanted to get together, she could have called him.

  Right?

  She was a mystery; that much he knew. Happy one minute, quiet and withdrawn the next. Clearly, he had a ton to learn about what made her tick, starting with how her parents had died, ending with how she felt about faith, and God, and everything that came between. If this thing between them continued, he needed to understand the events and experiences that shaped her into the woman she’d become. How else could he provide emotional support?

  On the other hand, if it took solving a passel of riddles to bring their relationship to the next level, at least Mercy—unlike the women who’d come before her—was worth the effort.

  So he fine-tuned his plan:

  Next time he visited Cora, he’d tell her about Mercy— provided he had anything to tell.

  13

  They got the preliminary “hellos” and “how are yous” out of the way, then launched into an abbreviated version of the weather forecast—Austin quoting WBAL’s John Collins, Mercy citing the version Marty Bass delivered on Channel 13. Following a short silence, Austin said, “Sorry I haven’t called before now.“And chuckling, he added “If you want the truth, I forgot who was supposed to call whom.”

  Mercy loved the sound of his laugh—deep and hearty and wholly masculine. A smart woman would figure out how to inspire more of it. “No problem. I figured you were busy. Or working some off-beat shift. Or both.”

  “So, when’s it convenient to have that dinner I promised?” If she’d been talking to any other man, Mercy would have put him off a day or two, to ensure he wouldn’t get the idea she’d kept all her nights free, in case he called. But she could hardly call Austin “any other man.”

  “I guess that depends.”

  “On … ?”

  “Whether or not you’ve stocked up on the ingredients to make that dinner you promised.”

  He paused only slightly before saying “I guess that depends.”

  All her life, people had been telling her she needed to play more, work less. What could it hurt to play along? “On …”

  “On whether or not you’re ‘pro’ steamed crabs or ‘con.’ “

  “Oh, pro. Definitely!”

  “Ah, she’s a woman after m’own heart.”

  “Say, isn’t ‘Finley’ an Irish name?”

  “Yes’m, ‘tis.”

  “Then I’m flabbergasted that—”

  “Flabbergasted? Such language!”

  “—that you can’t do a better brogue than that.”

  Another hesitation, and then “You know the old saying, ‘Honesty is the best policy’?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, it’s bunk. Wouldn’t have killed you to pretend mine is the best Irish accent you’ve ever heard, bar none, to protect my fragile ego. Y’know?”

  “Fragile, indeed. Why, if I had to guess, I’d guess the only fragile thing about you is your—”

  “OK. All right. That’s it. No crabs for you.”

  Mercy threw back her head and laughed, and oh, how good it felt! “I take it back, I take it back! You’re the most sensitive, fragile, easily hurt human being on planet Earth.” And now she paused. “Am I forgiven? Will you still serve steamed crabs tonight?”

  “Sure. I’ll pick you up at—”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly capable of driving to your place.Just tell me what time to be there and give me some directions, and—” What did a dinner guest bring her host with an entrée like that? “What can I bring? Rolls? Wine or beer? Dessert?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  Had she imagined it, or had his voice taken on a gritty tone?

  “But I keep a few bottles in the fridge, for guests who do. So, unless you have a favorite brew—”

  She remembered how he’d been written up by his lieutenant for coming to work hung over. On more than one occasion.Marcum made a point to tell her that, in his opinion and by every other measure, Austin was an alcoholic. If he’d kicked the habit, she sure didn’t want to be the one to tempt him back to it.

  “Seriously. Doesn’t bother me a bit—any more—to be around people who, ah, imbibe. Besides, I know almost as well as native Baltimoreans that crabs and beer go together like—”

  “A hand and a glove?”

  He laughed. “I was gonna say salt and pepper.”

  “Or socks and shoes.”

  “A horse and carriage.”

  The lyrics of an old Frank Sinatra song echoed in her head, but no way she intended to top his comeback with “love and marriage.”

  “You win,” she said.

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I win far more often than I lose.”

  If he thought she planned to ask “Win what?” well, he had yet another think coming, that’s what!

  Once they’d rounded out the conversation with arrival time and directions to the marina, Woodrow walked a figure-eight around her ankles. “Just enough time,” she told him, looking at the clock, “to whip up a cheesecake for dessert.” She bent to scoop up the cat. “You think he likes plain, or blueberries on top?”

  The feline answered with a musical chirrup, and leaped from his mistress’s arms.

  “Plain it is, then.”

  An hour and a half later, Mercy set the dessert on the stovetop to cool as the phone rang. With any luck, Austin wouldn’t view her change of mind as a “This is what life would be like if we were married!” hint, because in place of the cheesecake, she’d made—

  “As I live and breathe, you’re home,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “It’s as though you disappeared from the face of the earth!”

  She would have recognized that oh-so-proper British accent anywhere. “Leo! Oh, my goodness, it’s good to hear from you.And ironic, too, because I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Only good things, of course.”

  “Despite those horrible pranks I played on you when we were kids?”

  “Forgotten! Well, except for the time you blindfolded me and made me eat a cicada. And the time whe
n—”

  “Seems to me you haven’t forgotten at all.” Laughing, Leo added, “But just listen to me, telling the family psychiatrist about should-be-buried memories and the hidden meanings behind them.” Another chuckle, then, “I have to see a patient in five minutes. It’s reveal day, don’t you know, so there’s a higher than normal price if I’m late. But I digress. The reason I called, sister dear, is that I have a few weeks’ vacation time coming. And I haven’t seen you since you were here in … how long has it been, three years now?”

  “Something like that,” Mercy said, hoping Leo wouldn’t bring up the reason she’d gone to London.

  “How would you feel about putting up with a middle-aged English houseguest for a few days?”

  “You want to come here? Oh, wow, Leo, that’s wonderful! I’d love to see you, and since I have a few weeks, myself, before school starts, I can show you aroun—”

  “I’ll only say it this once, Mercy dear, and only out of deep affection and genuine caring, so bear with me, won’t you?”

  She listened as he sighed, clucked his tongue.

  “Trading your fascinating post with the police department to work with rude, tattooed teenagers? Honestly. What were you thinking?”

  “As I’ve said a thousand times, the job wasn’t all that fascinating,” she muttered, “and the kids aren’t all rude.”

  “Well, there’s the bright side, I suppose.”

  The mantle clock chimed four times, meaning she had an hour to shower, dress, and drive to Austin’s. “When is your flight? I’ll pick you up at BWI, save you taxi fare, and show you a little bit of Charm City on the way from the airport.”

  “I haven’t made reservations yet. Wanted to make sure you were up for a visit first.”

  Why wouldn’t she be up for a visit? Surely Leo didn’t believe that she still suffered from the after-effects of the depression that sent her over edge a few years back. “I love you for being such a protective big brother, but take my word for it: I’m fine,” she said in the most upbeat voice she could muster. “It’ll be so good to see you! I won’t hurt your feelings, will I, if I tell you that I can’t chat long? I have a dinner date across town, you see and—”