by J. R. Ward
"Yes, ma'am."
"You'll make sure that everyone..."
"Gets what you want them to have."
"Service..."
"At Charlemont Baptist. It's all arranged with Reverend Nyce."
"Good boy." Miss Aurora shuddered. "I'm so tired. I hurt, boy. I'm tired of hurting."
He cleared his voice. "Your Lord is waitin' on you."
"Our Lord. He's Our Lord."
They sat there together for a spell. Lane had no idea whether it was a minute or an hour. Then he got worried.
"Miss Aurora? You still with me?"
"Yes, boy."
"I'm having a baby."
That got those eyes back open. "With Lizzie?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You better marry her, or I will haunt you."
"We're getting married."
"At Charlemont Baptist. So I can watch over the nuptials."
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to stay around and see them for herself, but that was cruel. "Nowhere else but there, Miss Aurora."
She took a deep breath and shuddered again. "I was doing so well. And then...it just hit me."
"You've come through other sickle-cell crises. You can--"
"Not this one."
There was a period of quiet. "Momma?" he prompted.
"I'm still here, boy."
"You never told me about the rub on your jerk chicken." He suddenly panicked at all the things he'd taken for granted that he could find out from her. It was as if a piece of him were leaving the planet with her. "And what about the beaten biscuits--"
"Recipe box on the shelves. By my chair. Call Patience if you need help. My mother taught us both together."
"I wish you weren't leaving."
"Me, too. But my time is my time." Her eyes opened again. "When you get sad, I want you to remember what I always told you. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. And I had you and my faith, so I was wealthy...beyond means."
He found himself blinking hard. And he had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Beyond means."
"It'll be the same for you. Your children are the joy that makes everything else bearable, and you were mine. You have always been mine, even though you were born of another."
"You are my momma. The only one I ever had."
As tears rolled down his face, he felt her squeeze his hand one last time. And then she released her hold so that he was the only one gripping.
Lane stayed there for some time longer, watching her breathe. When the alarms started to ring, he reached over to an off button and killed the noise.
Outside the glass door, he saw medical staff gathering, but Tanesha Nyce was standing in front of the way in and shaking her head, protecting him and his momma.
"Momma? You still with me?"
This time, Miss Aurora did not answer him.
--
Out of respect for the family, Lizzie stayed out of the way, giving the nieces and nephews and sisters and brothers a chance to be closest to the door. There were medical staff hanging around, too, but when Tanesha had explained who Lane was to Miss Aurora, they had backed off after the alarms had been silenced.
Through the glass, Lizzie knew the moment Miss Aurora was gone. Even though Lane had his back to the hall, the death was in the way his shoulders slumped and his head lowered.
He stayed in there a little longer, holding the woman's hand.
Then he got up and opened the door. As soon as he saw the crowd, he said roughly, "She's gone home."
People began to cry and hold each other, seeking comfort and giving it. And everyone went up to Lane, embracing him.
As Lane shared in the grief, his too-shiny, red-rimmed eyes sought and held Lizzie's stare over the heads of the others. He seemed to have aged a hundred years.
When he finally came over, they just held on to each other. And then he straightened.
"If it's a girl, we name her Aurora," he said.
People instantly stilled and grew quiet. Especially as Lizzie nodded. "And if it's a boy, it will be Thomas."
Plans were made, arrangements set, practical matters handled. And everyone worked together: there was no discord, no jumping in, nothing but a family and a community who had lost one of its most important members helping to honor the woman's memory.
Lizzie had to excuse herself a couple of times, her morning sickness stretching into the afternoon. And each time she came back, she could feel Lane watching her, checking to make sure she was okay.
Then it was finally time to go. No one but Max left.
Lizzie found herself feeling awkward around the man. He was so remote and unfriendly, even in the midst of the loss. Perhaps especially because of it.
"So," Lane said as he stared at the glass.
The medical staff had given everyone plenty of space and Lizzie had certainly appreciated it. Then again, they no doubt had had way too much experience with where everyone was at in this first stage of mourning. Grief, she imagined, was a weekly, if not daily, occurrence on the unit.
"I don't want to leave her," Lane murmured. "I just want to make sure she's okay, you know?"
"There are good people here." Lizzie squeezed his hand. "They will make sure she is treated with dignity."
As if on cue, an African-American man in a suit with a hat in his hands came around from the nursing station. "Mr. Baldwine?"
"Ah, yes?"
"I'm from the Browne and Harris Funeral Home." He offered a business card forward. "I'm Bill Browne's son, Denny. I'm here to take care of her as she prearranged. I'll stay with her all the way from when she leaves this room to when she is transferred into my vehicle. She won't be alone, and she will be afforded the same respect she had in life."
"Oh, thank God."
Taking the card, Lane grabbed the guy and dragged him in for a hard hug, and the man seemed like he was used to that, accepting the embrace and returning it.
"I think I know your brother, Mike?" Lane said as they separated. "Didn't he teach at Charlemont Country Day?"
"Oh, yes. Mike's still there. He's the headmaster now."
"My niece is going to start in the fall as a junior."
"Is she? What's her name?"
"Amelia. Amelia Baldwine."
"I'll tell Mike to look out for her." Denny smiled. "It's a good school. I was class of--"
"My class," Max spoke up. "You were in my class."
Denny frowned. And then seemed surprised. "Max?"
"Yeah, it's me under here." Max stepped forward. "Been a while."
"Yes, yes, it has." They shook hands. "Well, I'm going to start the process at the nursing station, okay? And you call me anytime. If you text me, I'll give you updates as things progress so you're certain she's okay. The date for the funeral is all set, am I correct?"
"Yes, and she's being buried at Kinderhook with her mom and dad." Lane took a deep breath. "Send all the bills to me. I want her estate intact for her nieces and nephews, okay?"
"Her sister came in with her about three months ago and she picked out a coffin...."
When there was a hesitation, Lane frowned. "It's the cheapest one you have, isn't it. She was always so damn frugal."
"Well, I'm sure it--"
"Do you have anything in red? U of C red?"
"As a matter of fact we do. There are a lot of basketball fans in this town, as you know."
"I want her in the most expensive, reddest coffin you've got. I don't care what it costs--and if she's pissed about it, she can come haunt me for the rest of my life. That way, I won't have to miss her as much."
"Yessir." Denny bowed. "You've got it."
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
As Denny went back over to the nursing station, Lane turned to his brother. "So."
Just as Lizzie wondered whether she shouldn't give them some time alone, Max nodded. "Yeah, so I'm going to take off."
"Lot going on here in Charlemont at the moment. You might want to stay around for a little bi
t longer. Miss Aurora would have wanted you to sing at her service. You've got that voice she loved so much."
Max shrugged. "They have a choir. It'll all be fine without me."
Lane shook his head, but it was obvious that he didn't have the energy to argue with the guy. "Stay in touch. If you can."
"Yeah. Sure."
The two shared an awkward hug, and then Max jacked up his beat-to-crap jeans and stalked off.
"Come on," Lane said sadly as he took one last look into the glass room. "And you need to drive home. I plan on crying like a little girl in the passenger seat so I can get it all out on a oner. That eulogy I'm going to have to deliver is going to kill me, otherwise."
Lizzie fell in step with him. And then she had to bring it up.
"Does this mean Edward is free to come home?"
Edward's first thought? As he sat in the interrogation room that he was beginning to think of as his second home at the jail?
Goddamn it, why in the hell did she have to talk.
As Detective Merrimack sat forward and put his elbows on the table, Edward had to admit, the man's attitude had done a one-eighty. Gone was that patronizing smirk from the investigation. In its place, a calm, relaxed demeanor, backed up by a surprising respect.
"I didn't want her to do this," Edward said into the silence.
From over in the corner, Samuel T. was watching everything closely. The lawyer had insisted on coming down here even though Edward had earlier refused not just the man's help, but that of the county's pro bono defense attorney as well as several high-powered, nationally known lawyers.
"I know you didn't." Merrimack's black eyes were steady, no longer suspicious. "You deleted that security footage to protect her."
"I wasn't going to allow her to go to jail. I didn't care about myself, I still don't. But you've got to understand. My brothers and sister, they went through a lot in that house. And Miss Aurora, she was the one who kept us all going. Lane was especially close to her, and he never would have gotten over it if she had been sent to prison."
"I gather her motive was your father's affair with your brother's wife?"
"Estranged wife. And yes, that's what she told me."
"So you two spoke about the killing."
"Yes, we did. After that finger was found in the dirt, I just had an inkling. I can't tell you exactly why. I called her from the farm and asked her to meet me. No one saw us. She told me what had happened, and I decided what we were going to do about it. She was adamant that we let things lie, but I knew that you all weren't going to be satisfied without a defendant. I put it to her like this--she could either let me go in for her, or she could watch Lane self-destruct knowing that she was dying of cancer behind bars. I told her...well, let's just say we both knew that Lane was not going to do well with that. She saw the logic. And so I framed myself."
"You forgot about the security cameras out at the Red and Black."
"I know, right." Edward tapped his temple. "Missed that one."
"It's really hard to get away with murder."
"She was supposed to have thrown away the knife." Edward crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm really pissed at her that she didn't. But it is what it is. So what happens now? I get downgraded to an accessory after the fact and stay in the system for a while? I mean, there's obviously a lot of proof now, right? From what you all got from Miss Aurora's car and quarters?"
"That's right, yes. We found blood and fibers in her trunk, both your father's and her own. It was a struggle for her to muscle the body in and out of there, and she cut herself in the process. We also found a set of shoes with mud that matches samples from the river's edge in her closet. There were as well all kinds of debris stuck to the undercarriage of that vehicle. What we didn't find were any third-party stains anywhere. So we're thinking she acted alone, even though I'm surprised she had the strength to handle that body."
"Oh, I'm not. I've watched her muscle around huge vats of boiling water and sauce all my life. Cancer certainly weakened her, but she was so strong--she also told me he had stiffened up from the stroke after he collapsed? So it wasn't like he was all loose."
"Back to your question about what happens next with you." Merrimack shrugged. "It's up to the district attorney to decide what she wants to do. It could be probation, or they may want to make an example out of you."
"Ah, yes, rich people getting away with stuff."
"It's a fact."
"That why you weren't particularly fond of us, Detective?"
Merrimack smiled for the first time in a natural way. "I don't like murderers. That's who I don't like. But I will say, you cooperated with the investigation all the way--although that was because you wanted to get arrested."
"I had my reasons, it's true."
"I'm prepared to suggest you get heavy probation, no time. It'll be in my report. You definitely broke the law, so that will have to be addressed, but if there was ever a right reason? You had it. Oh, and if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it."
The detective got to his feet and extended his hand. "I'll try and spring you as soon as I can."
"Don't worry. Here or out there. It really doesn't matter."
As Edward reached forward, the cuff on his prison uniform got pulled back and Merrimack's eyes went to the wound there.
"I think it does matter," the detective said. "Actually, it matters a lot. You're going to wait here, okay?"
"I'm not going back to the cell?"
"No. When I told you I was going to try and get you sprung fast, I meant it."
--
Three hours later, Edward was changing back into the street clothes he had been wearing when he'd been arrested after his "confession." And yet as he signed for his wallet and his keys, he told himself they weren't actually going to let him leave.
This whole bail thing, pending a hearing on charges of accessory after the fact, tampering with evidence, and obstruction of justice, was not what he had planned. Then again, he hadn't really budgeted on getting kidnapped in South America, becoming a cripple, falling into alcoholic status, or turning himself into a murderer, either.
Life had a way of surprising people, though.
"Thank you," he said as he accepted his things out of the slot.
Like a lot of the jail complex, the hall he was in was bald of decoration, nothing but an oatmeal-colored chute that took a person from the exit procedure to what he guessed was his brother Lane waiting for him outside that steel door at the far end.
How the guy had managed to pull together a quarter of a million dollars on short notice, he hadn't a clue. Then again, their mother's jewelry collection was worth that in spades. Maybe a bondsman had accepted a necklace or a ring as collateral?
"You're all set, then."
As Ramsey spoke up behind him, Edward wheeled around at the man in surprise. "Good God, Ramsey, for a big man, you move so quietly."
"Years of careful training." The deputy acknowledged the woman behind the Plexiglas with a wave. "And maybe I had a pretty good knack for it to begin with."
The two of them stared at each other.
Edward intended to say something jocular. Instead, his voice grew rough. "I owe you my life. I don't think I've ever said that to you before."
"You did, actually. You were barely conscious at the time, but you did say it."
"Oh. Well, I'll tell you again, then. I owe you my life."
"I'm glad you're out of here."
"I may be going back in. This could be just a reprieve."
"It won't be. I know your judge. She'll do you right, just like the D.A. did. We take care of our own."
"We shall see. No more dead bodies, though. I can promise you that. The cancer is out of the family, and the rest of us can start healing now. Whatever the hell that looks like."
"Good. And you can always call me. Miss Aurora's family is my family."
As the two embraced, Edward had to smile a little. It was like wrapping his arms around an oak tree
.
"I'm back to work, then," Ramsey said, his broad, handsome face smiling. "Be good out there."
"I will."
Edward watched the man disappear through the other steel door. And then as the thing shut and clicked into place, it was hard to think of what to do next. Then again, all he had to do was get into a car. That was a purpose, right? And something he could probably handle.
Turning around, he limped down the corridor, his bad leg even worse than usual, all those nights without sleep catching up to him, his stomach growling for food.
Edward had to put his shoulder into the door and push as hard as he could to get it open--
There was a long black Mercedes waiting at the curb in the darkness. With a beautiful brunette woman leaning against the driver's-side door like a boss.
She was wearing blue jeans and a Kentucky University blue sweatshirt.
Edward stepped out and let the jail's door close on its own. "That sweatshirt is an abomination."
"I know. I wore it just for you."
He started to shuffle forward. "I bleed red, you know. University of Charlemont all the way. I can't stand your team."
"Like I said, I know. And I'm still angry at you, so this is my passive-aggressive way of letting you know it."
God, he hated his limp, especially in front of her. But, oh, he could smell her perfume, and he loved the way the security lights on the back corner of the building made her hair gleam.
Edward stopped when he got up close to Sutton. "You bailed me out. You were the one, weren't you."
"Lane called, and I can't say no to your brother. He also told me about everything, including Miss Aurora's passing, and what you did for her. I mean, it's pretty amazing what you were willing to go through for your family--"
"I'm so in love with you," he said in a guttural voice. "Sutton, I love you so goddamn much."
As she blinked quick, like that was the last thing she had expected him to say, but exactly what she had dreamed of, he limped forward a little more and put his scrawny arms around her.
"I can't pretend anymore," he said into her hair. "I don't want to. There are a million reasons for you to just get in your car and leave me right now, and never, ever look back. There are so many better places for you to be and people for you to be with...but I'm selfish. And I'm tired. And to hell with my pride. I love you, and if you'll have me, I'm yours--and if you don't want me--"
Sutton eased back. "Shut up, Baldwine, and kiss me."
Edward took her perfect face in his hands and tilted his head to one side. Pressing his mouth to hers, he kissed her for so long and so deeply that he started to feel the burn of suffocation in his lungs. He didn't care, though. He had waited for a lifetime to admit what he had felt all along, so something as irrelevant as oxygen just wasn't on his radar.
