In This Life

by Cora Brent

  “You can pick him up,” Kathleen whispered.

  I reached out to touch the baby’s cheek and then pulled back before I got there.

  “Let him sleep,” I said.

  Kathleen tucked the thin cotton blanket around Colin’s body and I took one last look before following her out of the room. She closed the bedroom door softly and took a seat on the living room sofa. Since there was no place else to sit I plopped down beside her.

  “He’s a good baby,” she said and I noticed her eyes were teary again. “They just adored him, Heather and Chris. Heather was so happy to finally be a mom. They’d been trying to have a baby since they got married, you know.”

  I coughed once and shifted. “No, I didn’t know.” My dad and I didn’t talk about such things, when we talked at all. There were reasons. Some of them had to do with Heather. The rest of them had to do with him and me.

  Kathleen sighed and leaned her head back on the couch. “Jane got a call today from Brach’s Funeral Home up on Hart Street. They’re willing to take care of the arrangements for next to nothing. She’s supposed to go there to meet them tomorrow.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” I said. A headache was blossoming, a bad one. I pinched the space between my eyebrows.

  “You need some aspirin?”

  “Yes please.”

  Kathleen retrieved a pair of pills and some water. I ignored the water and swallowed the pills dry.

  She sat down again and pointed to my bandaged hand. “What happened?”

  I’d forgotten all about the man in the alley. It seemed like that incident had occurred three years ago instead of last night.

  “Scraped my knuckles on the concrete changing a flat tire,” I said. I was a shitty liar. It just didn’t come easily to me.

  She didn’t believe me. I could tell. There was something about the way her eyes changed that indicated she knew I was full of shit. But she was polite enough to change the subject.

  “How long has it been, Nash?” she asked. “How long since you’ve been back? About five years?”

  “Something like that,” I said, wondering how much she knew about the last fight my father and I had ever had. It was five years ago and our conversations since then had been carefully benign. But I remembered that night very well. Terrible things had been said.

  “Go on. Marry her. It doesn’t fucking matter to me. We’re done.”

  Fights like that can cleanse or they can ruin. Usually the latter.

  I wondered how much the woman sitting beside me on the couch knew. She was Heather’s cousin after all and if Heather had trusted Kathleen with her baby then she might have also trusted Kathleen with her secrets. When our eyes met, something I saw in hers told me she knew a whole lot.

  “Nash, I thought I heard your voice.”

  I looked up to find Jane had joined us. She was bleary eyed and puffy faced and it looked like she was holding onto Kathleen’s paneled living room wall for support. I rose from the couch and embraced her thin body as she began to weep.

  It was late and nobody was in a state to discuss anything serious, least of all Jane. Kathleen extended an offer for me and my eighty-pound dog to stay in her little apartment but I declined. However, I was glad to take her up on the offer to keep Colin here for the time being. I had decided to find a pet friendly hotel somewhere along the interstate but Kathleen produced key to my dad’s house and suggested that I stay there. It was obvious Kathleen had taken temporary charge of things but I was in no position to argue.

  “They just completed the renovation,” she said. “And there are plenty of bedrooms.”

  “I know,” I told her. I used to live in the damn house after all. For years it was an old Victorian eyesore that my grandfather never got around to restoring before he croaked on a golf course down in Scottsdale. Then it was my father’s constant project, always full of building materials and half finished rooms. It sounded like he’d finally gotten the job done.

  Jane wasn’t really alert enough to drive but she insisted on going home so I offered to take her.

  “What a beautiful dog,” she said upon being introduced to Roxie, who was happy for the attention from a new person as she panted on the seat between us.

  Jane lived with her boyfriend in a charming cottage three blocks away from the center of town. She seemed a little out of it as she kept petting Roxie but that was understandable. The last twenty four hours had been hell for her. Jane was a young teenager when I was born and even though she was in her late thirties now she’d somehow kept the fragile vulnerability of a young girl. I hoped the death of her beloved only brother wouldn’t be the catalyst that sent her over the edge. As far as I knew, she’d been all right these last few years.

  Jane’s boyfriend came outside to greet me when I dropped her off. Kevin Reston was still wearing the uniform of the Hawk Valley Fire Department and his long face was drawn with exhaustion but he shook my hand and awkwardly offered his condolences before escorting my aunt inside.

  I watched until their door closed and then did the only thing that was left for me to do. I went home.

  The house was dark. When I stepped up to the front porch I accidentally kicked over an object. It was soft and I soon realized there were more just like it. Flowers. They’d been placed all over the front porch. I could also make out a very large poster board that had been propped up beside the door. The clumsy hand drawn letters said, “Chris and Heather. We love you always.”

  The outpouring was touching, and not unexpected. Hawk Valley prided itself on its small town vibe and my family was well known here. The tragic deaths of two pillars of the community would have left everyone reeling.

  Roxie sniffed at the flowers as I fumbled with the front door key given to me by Kathleen. The hinges creaked as I pushed the door open. Immediately I was transported back to my childhood as I breathed in the scent of old wood and a vague mustiness that never completely dissipated. It was the smell of years and life and generations. But right now I just thought of it as the smell of sorrow.

  I switched on the light near the door and the first thing I noticed was that the place looked far different than it had five years ago. The bones were all still the same but now adorned with antique furniture and tasteful accents. The paint scheme was far brighter, the lighting had been enhanced and everywhere I looked pictures hung on formerly bare walls.

  I paused at eye level with a poster sized photo of the three of them; my dad, Heather and the baby. It must have been taken right after Colin was born. I’d been sent some photos of him wearing the same blue sailor outfit but those pictures were only of him. I’d never seen this one of the three of them before.

  Roxie crept around with her nose to the ground, sniffing every corner. Her tail was down, as if she guessed this was a sad moment. After a few minutes she settled down on a braided throw rug while I couldn’t quite tear myself away from the picture of a happy family that had been shattered. The smiling couple with their baby boy had no idea what fate had in store.

  There was more grey coursing through my father’s hair than I remembered. There were deeper lines around his eyes. And Heather was beautiful, her honey colored hair piled on her head in a loose bun. My dad’s arm was slung protectively around her shoulder as she cradled the son who would have no memories of them. To Colin, Heather and Chris Ryan would only be people in pictures and stories.

  I couldn’t get used to the idea. Nothing about this was fucking fair. After my mother was killed I’d done nothing but cry in the days that followed. This time I hadn’t yet shed a tear.

  But then, as I sank slowly down to the floor in my father’s empty house, I finally broke down and sobbed until my chest ached.

  The forecast didn’t call for rain today but the skies opened up and the crowd began drifting away from the ceremony. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, people from out of town. Maybe they were morbid curiosity seekers. The fire and its tragic conclusion had been all over the news.

  “The
husband and wife team owned a souvenir shop in the picturesque town of Hawk Valley. They leave behind an infant son. Now back to you, George, for the traffic report.”

  A news truck from one of the Phoenix stations was hovering in the parking lot. I wondered if it carried the same reporter who had encountered Nash this morning. He’d told her to fuck off before she finished her sentence.

  As the grievers who’d been circled around the burial site began to back away and glance up at the threatening sky, Nash remained in place with his head bent and his big hands hanging at his sides.

  The pastor concluded the ceremony and touched Nash on the shoulder before following the crowd. He appeared to say something but I was too far away and it didn’t seem to matter anyway. Nash ignored him.

  My left heel wobbled in the slippery grass as I made my way over to Nash. I avoided looking at the two caskets covered with bright flowers. I didn’t want to think about what they contained.

  Nash didn’t look up as I approached and I couldn’t see his face.

  “Nash,” I said as the rain intensified. “Are you okay?”

  Now he looked up. A loud overhead thunderclap punctuated the moment. The expression in his blue eyes was so anguished I was tempted to reach for him. But Nash Ryan was not the kind of man who would lay his head on anyone’s shoulder and weep.

  “It’s over,” he said and seemed surprised. I wondered if he’d been listening to the service at all or if he’d been too lost in his bleak thoughts. This wouldn’t be the first funeral he’d sat through, not the first time someone he loved was taken in a brutal manner.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s over.”

  That was true. At least this part was over. The authorities had mercifully released the bodies quickly and the funeral was able to proceed only four days after the fire. A lot of people in town had stepped up to help but Nash insisted on personally handling the arrangements himself. Maybe he just liked keeping his mind occupied.

  Perhaps that’s why he’d been too busy to spend any time with Colin.

  In the short term there was no shortage of people happy to fill the void and take care of the baby but sooner or later there was a critical decision to make. I knew what Heather and Chris had wanted. My cousin had told me about the visit to Steve Brown a few months ago. The attorney was probably waiting until after the funeral to share the contents of the will.

  People wondered and whispered among themselves. “What about the baby? What will happen to him?” And I stayed silent because I didn’t have the right to gossip, especially when Nash himself hadn’t yet been informed about the role his father intended him to play.

  Nash’s observation suddenly took on a deeper meaning. Yes, the funeral was over. But now he’d need to figure out what came next.

  Nash walked silently at my side as we trailed after the sea of black-clad figures heading for the parking lot. Even though the rain was coming down steadily we didn’t hurry. I held my handbag over my head to serve as an inadequate umbrella while thunder rumbled above. Nash didn’t seem to notice that he was getting soaked to the skin.

  We’d encountered each other plenty of times in the days since he returned to town but we hadn’t been alone together or had a one on one conversation. The vibe between us wasn’t awkward exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable either. From what I’d seen of Nash so far, he didn’t go out of his way for the sake of good manners.

  “Your car?” he said, gesturing to my pile of old Ford bones that was probably a grocery store trip away from sudden death.

  “Yes.” I unlocked the driver’s side door. “I’ll see you at Nancy’s house?” I asked him.

  Nancy Reston, often referred to as ‘Saint Nancy’ had been Hawk Valley’s mayor for two decades and retired last fall because she loved children and wanted to run a daycare. She had volunteered to host a gathering at her house after the funeral so the family didn’t have to be bothered with such plans. Nancy herself had missed the funeral because she was watching Colin and Emma.

  Nash didn’t answer and was staring off into the distance so I thought he hadn’t heard the question.

  “There will be food,” I said, feeling as if I needed to fill the silence with words. Even stupid words. “Nancy hired a caterer. It was nice of her to go to all the trouble.”

  Nash said nothing. He could have been a statue. A square-jawed, absurdly good looking sculpture permanently posed beside the hood of my car.

  I cleared my throat. “I meant to ask what you want to do about tonight. Nancy had Colin last night but I don’t know if she’s up to covering two nights in a row. I can take him tonight if you want…”

  My voice trailed off because I finally realized what he’d been staring at. From here the Hawk Mountains were only ragged shadows. The smell of smoke was long gone and from afar there was no hint about what kind of disaster had unfolded up there. You’d have to get a lot closer to see the scars left by the fire.

  Grief flooded me. It had been a constant companion lately but every now and then the ache sharpened to a crippling pain. Heather was nine years older then I was so we hadn’t been close while growing up. In my narrow opinion my perky blonde cousin was somewhat conceited and superficial. But when I returned to Hawk Valley four years ago as a pregnant college dropout who’d just exited a toxic relationship and didn’t feel up to answering questions about anything, Heather glued herself to my side and became my biggest champion. She helped me find work. She was there at the hospital holding my hand when Emma was born. And when she saw a long awaited positive sign on a drugstore pregnancy test, I was the first one she called with the news.

  The tears I’d managed to contain throughout the funeral were now threatening to engulf me.

  “Oh god,” I moaned and found myself leaning on the wet car for support.

  There were suddenly arms around me, strong arms lifting me from my slumped position and pulling me against a broad chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and breathed in the pine scent of his aftershave. Nash said nothing as he held me and that was fine. It only lasted for a moment and in that moment we were just two anguished people clinging to each other in the parking lot of a cemetery as a cold rain fell. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been held by anyone and I would have gladly hung onto him a lot longer. But Nash let go and backed away.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said before heading to his truck.

  I didn’t have a clear idea whether he planned to show up at Nancy’s or whether he needed me to take care of Colin tonight. However, I didn’t feel like chasing after him for answers so I sighed and ducked into my own car. I shrugged out of my wet blazer, relieved the blouse underneath was mostly dry, before making the short drive to Nancy Reston’s house.

  The house was in the oldest part of town, only two streets over from the one where Nash and I had grown up. Years ago my mother had sold her old house in that neighborhood and moved into a fairly new condo across town. As for the gorgeous Victorian that Chris Ryan had spent years restoring, I would assume it belonged to Nash now. Well, Nash and Colin.

  Nancy had only invited the friends and family of Chris and Heather so there wouldn’t an obscene number of people to deal with. The silver haired former mayor greeted me at the door with a warm hug and produced an embroidered pink towel so I could do something about my damp hair. I was still standing in the foyer and toweling off my messy hair when the small hurricane that was my daughter sped past me.

  “Hey there, missy,” I said, trying to scoop the giggling girl into my arms.

  Emma was not a child who liked to be contained. She wriggled away.

  “Look what Grandma gave me,” she announced, triumphantly holding up a five dollar bill.

  The last time my mother gave Emma money, my daughter had decorated Abraham Lincoln’s face with bright red crayon and then wrapped the bill around a ball of clay. The lesson should have been to avoid offering paper money to a three year old but my mother was a slow learner sometimes.

  “An
d where is Grandma?” I asked her.

  Emma pointed. “In there.” She scrunched up her face and my heart skipped because for a second she looked exactly like her father. I should be used to the resemblance by now but somehow it still caught me off guard.

  Emma resisted when I took her by the hand but I couldn’t let her tear through the house getting into all kinds of trouble. Nancy had her hands full with the arriving guests.

  My mother offered me a nod from her place by the picture window beside Uncle Ben, the oldest living member of my family. His thin hands trembled and his face was confused as my mother yapped in his ear between bites of lemon cake.

  Emma stopped trying to struggle out of my grip when I directed her to the table of refreshments and piled fruit on a plate. Emma loved strawberries the way other kids loved chocolate bars.

  Jane was seated on a small sofa with a napping Colin in her arms. Her posture was rather stiff and she kept her eyes on the baby. Jane didn’t often volunteer to hold her nephew and never offered to babysit. At first I thought it seemed Jane was almost afraid of the child, yet after observing she over the past few days I didn’t believe that was it. Jane wasn’t afraid of the baby. She was afraid of herself, maybe of her ability to hold him properly. Heather once described Jane as ‘painfully fragile’ and that was an accurate description. I knew the whispers about her history. The breakdowns. She’d supposedly been steady for quite some time but since the fire she seemed to be withdrawing more. Heather and Chris had come to their decision for a reason. Jane would never be up to the task of taking care of Colin.

  I settled Emma on a nearby chair with her plate of strawberries and eased down on the chintz sofa beside Jane. “Do you want me to take him?”

  Her nod of relief was immediate. “Yes, thank you.”