by Amy Reece
“Hey, Squirt.” He hugged her back with one arm as he flipped the last of the pancakes in the first batch. “Hey, Iris.” The other girl smiled at him but said nothing as she took a seat at the table and set her stuffed bunny beside her plate. She might not be as effusive as Lily, but it was better than the last time he’d fixed them breakfast, when her glare could have singed the hair on his head. He’d take what he could get at this point. While the girls ate, he made another batch of pancakes for himself and Nina, then made sure she ate what he placed in front of her. Nina insisted on stacking the dishes in the dishwasher while Seamus cooked up the rest of the huge batch of batter he’d mixed.
“What in the world?” Nina stood, hands on her hips, watching him as he cooked.
“You can keep them in the freezer for quick breakfasts. What?” he asked as she shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “I’m just wondering when all this domesticity occurred.”
“Shut up.” He turned back to the stove with a chuckle. “I like to cook. It beats eating out of a box all the time.”
“I’m sure it does.” She shooed the girls out of the kitchen, telling them they needed to hurry and get ready for school. Then she turned back to Seamus. “How long does it usually take you to come down from the adrenaline high?”
He shrugged and searched through her drawers until he found her freezer bags. “Depends. This was a bad one, so it may take a few hours.”
“Did anyone die?”
He focused on fitting the pancakes in the plastic baggies for a moment before he answered. “Yeah. An elderly couple who lived on the third floor. They couldn’t make it down the stairs. They died of smoke inhalation.” He spoke in short, choppy sentences; it was the only way to keep control of his emotions. Slim, warm arms slipped around his waist.
“I’m so sorry, Seamus.”
He fought it for several seconds until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He choked out a harsh breath and turned to pull her against his chest, holding tightly and breathing in her sweet fragrance, a lifeline to sanity in this moment. “Shit.” He murmured the words against her hair. “Jon and I found them when we were sweeping the complex. God, Nina, they were lying together on their bed, holding hands.”
She said nothing, but held him tighter, rubbing her hands up and down his back.
He held her as long as he dared, then took a deep breath and stepped away. “I’ll finish up in here. You go get ready for work.”
She stared up into his face, a small frown line between her eyes. “Okay. I hope you’re able to get some rest later.”
“I will. Don’t worry about me.” He saw tragedies on a near-daily basis in his line of work, but the old couple’s death had been so poignant and heart-breaking, the two of them lying next to each other in their pajamas, untouched by any flames, but suffocated by the smoke filling their apartment. “Listen, I’ll take care of dinner tonight.”
She turned at the doorway. “No way. You have done enough already.”
“You need to let me do this, Nina. I sponged more meals off your folks than I can remember. Plus, I have all day to cook and you have to work until five. What time should I be here? I can catch a ride with you and the girls, can’t I?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Good.” He turned back to the counter, smiling as he heard her sputter.
“You’re impossible. Fine. That would actually be a huge help. Be here around five. And let me know if Izzy is okay with watching the girls.”
***
Nina
“Yeah, Mom. Love you too. Give Daddy a kiss for me. See you this evening. Bye.” Nina ended the call and set her cell phone on her desk. Her mother had called from the airport in Miami, where they were waiting to board the plane back to Albuquerque. They would arrive around 5:30, and Nina had assured them she and Nick would be there to meet them. She neglected to mention the girls would not be there. Her mother would fuss and insist she needed to see her granddaughters, but Nina knew Seamus was right; they needed a break from the horrors of Neal’s death. He had secured Izzy’s approval to take the girls over to play with Janey for the evening and they were beside themselves with excitement, jumping up and down as if they were going to a party. Party? Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap! She had completely forgotten about their birthday party this weekend! The invitations had already gone out and she was expecting ten little girls at her house Sunday afternoon. I need to cancel. I can’t possibly get a party together before then! Lily and Iris will understand. They would, of course. But they would have that look in their eyes, the one they’d had when she met them for the first time at the orphanage in Kampala. It was much too adult a look for three-year-old children, as if they’d seen too much in their short lives. The officials at the orphanage had little information about the girls, except that they had been part of a family displaced from the Democratic Republic of the Congo by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Restoration Army. The family had found refuge in one of the many camps set up for war refugees, but the parents had contracted cholera and died. Their six children had been sent to various orphanages across the region and the infant twins ended up in Kampala, where they stayed for two and a half years because the nuns at the orphanage were reluctant to adopt them out separately. It was one of the reasons David had been able to secure the adoption so quickly: he and Nina were the only ones who had been willing to adopt two children at once. Nina had sworn on the spot she would do whatever it took to erase that haunted look from their eyes and give them a happy childhood. And that includes birthday parties. It’s not that big a deal. You just need a cake and some favors. And games. And ice cream. Oh, God. Single motherhood really sucked sometimes, and she regularly wanted to hang her ex by his testicles. Not that she wanted him back—God, no!—but he’d gotten her into this situation, insisting they adopt, then philandered his way into another woman’s arms and knocked her up. But how surprised were you, Nina? Isn’t that exactly what he did with you, except for the pregnancy? It was a good thing he had a lot of money from his family and his books, because he was supporting four children now and two ex-wives. How could I have been so naïve? She shook off the glum, non-productive thoughts and decided she’d use her lunch hour to order a cake.
She was halfway through her emails when the phone rang again.
“Ms. Braden? Yes, this is Donald Mason at French’s Mortuary. We just received word that your brother’s body will be released this afternoon. Has your family decided on a date for the funeral?”
Nina’s stomach flopped unpleasantly. She’d been expecting this phone call, but it brought reality back suddenly. “Oh. Um, we haven’t yet. I’m so sorry. My parents will arrive this afternoon and we’ll discuss it this evening. What are your available slots for next week?” She cringed as she realized she’d described her brother as a ‘slot.’
“We have Monday at 2:30, Wednesday at 10:00 a.m., or Thursday at 1:00 p.m. If none of those are convenient, we’ll have to look at the following week.”
She rubbed ineffectually at the headache building behind her eyes. “Let’s schedule for Wednesday at 10:00.” She was fairly sure it would work for the rest of the family with the possible exception of Nate, but she couldn’t really wait to schedule around him.
“I’ll put it on the calendar. Would you be able to come in on Monday to discuss the arrangements?”
They agreed on a time and Nina hung up. She continued to massage her temples, trying to ease the pain. She stood, deciding a brief walk around campus would clear her head. She had several hours before her next class and she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on grading or writing at the moment. It was a gloriously sunny day and she headed toward the duck pond, a place that usually never failed to cheer her up. She paused on the wooden bridge for several moments, watching the ducks race toward the bank whenever someone threw them a few breadcrumbs, as she attempted to rein in her racing thoughts. Why, Neal? Why? Why did you do it? She’d read enough about grief after her d
ivorce—she’d been grieving the loss of her marriage, or at least the notion of an ideal marriage—to know she was still in the early denial stage. Anger would come next, if she believed what the books said, and she thought she might welcome it at this point. The constant questioning and disbelief that her beloved twin brother could take his own life was futile and depressing. Wait, wasn’t depression one of the later stages? Crap, it seemed she couldn’t even get that right. Kira had said Neal was depressed and the prescription seemed to support her claim, but how could his sister and best friend not know? Gordy too, had said he wasn’t surprised to hear Neal was suffering from depression, claiming he had seemed withdrawn and moody over the last few months. But he was never that way around me. Why did he feel the need to hide it from his twin sister? I would have understood. I would have talked to him about it! Shit! Okay, there was some anger. Maybe she was making progress after all. The drive to do something productive made her pull out her cell and dial Finn’s private number; he’d told her to call if she had any questions or concerns.
“This is DeLuca.”
She winced slightly at his brusque greeting and hoped she hadn’t interrupted anything important. “Finn, it’s Nina. I wondered if you might have a few minutes?”
“Sure, Nina. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about Neal’s depression, and I have some questions. Do you think I could get the doctor’s name from the prescription? I don’t remember seeing one on the bottle.”
He hesitated. “Uh, listen, Nina. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn’t end at death. We would have to get a court order to get that information, and there doesn’t seem to be any compelling reason in this case. I’m sorry.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d expected his answer, but had hoped for more. “I’m having a really hard time believing Neal was suffering from such severe depression, when I wasn’t aware of it. Please, Finn. I just need the name. There should have been a doctor’s name on the label, right?”
His exasperated sigh was perfectly audible over the phone. “I’ll tell you what. How about a compromise? I’ll call the pharmacy and see if I can squeeze any details out of them, okay?”
She ran her free hand through her hair as she watched a family of ducks swim under the bridge. “Fine. I’m sorry to be so pushy, but this isn’t sitting right with me. I can’t believe Neal would kill himself.”
“I know, Nina. It’s tough, but the evidence is pretty clear.” He was silent for another long moment. “Do you have any reason to believe it wasn’t a suicide?”
What was he implying? What was she thinking? Of course it was a suicide. He’d been found in his locked office with a gun in his hand. It couldn’t be anything else. “No, of course not. But…” But what?
“Listen, I know this is rough right now. Have your parents gotten back yet?”
“This afternoon. We’re all going to meet over there for dinner. Seamus is bringing the food. God, he’s been such a huge help.”
“Good. I know Neal meant the world to him. I’m glad he’s here for you. Listen, I gotta go, Nina. I’ll call you if I hear anything from the pharmacy, okay?” He paused for a beat. “Try to think about starting to move on. Neal wouldn’t want you to be so upset.”
“Then he shouldn’t have fucking killed himself!” She glanced around, hoping no one had heard her outburst. “Sorry, Finn. I just…” She turned and leaned her forearms against the bridge railing.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
She said goodbye and slipped the phone back in her pocket, then pulled it out again to call Kira. If she had somehow arranged for Neal to get the paroxetine, for whatever reason, she would know the name of the doctor who had prescribed it. But Kira didn’t answer, a sure sign she was on duty at the hospital. Nina sent a text and hoped Kira would call back later. Okay. Time to get back to work. You need to stop obsessing over this. She squared her shoulders and finished her circuit around campus, stopping by the SUB for a cup of dark roast before heading back to her office.
***
“Seamus, this is lovely.” Nancy Braden set the bottle of wine she’d chosen on the table next to the sizzling pan of fajita beef and peppers Seamus had prepared. He’d also made a beautiful green salad and warmed a stack of flour tortillas. “Thank you so much.” Nina’s parents had arrived home thirty minutes late and were clearly exhausted from their long day of traveling.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Braden.”
“Where did you learn to cook so well? The meat is so tender.” Mr. Braden helped himself to seconds as he spoke.
“I have an extremely limited repertoire. You’ve tasted about fifty percent of it tonight. I guess I’m going to need to check out some new recipes soon.” He laughed and poured Nina another glass of wine.
Nina was glad her parents and brother were enjoying it, although Seamus seemed a bit embarrassed by their praise. He obviously didn’t realize what a help it was to not have to prepare a meal or even order in. And, yeah, where the heck did he learn to cook like this? Talk about your hidden talents! She and Nick had left him at their parents’ house so he could prepare the meal while they drove to the airport to pick Mr. and Mrs. Braden up. The older couple had arrived tired and hungry, saying their layover in Dallas hadn’t been long enough to hit the food court. Nina was pleased to see they both had apparently regained their appetites, although neither looked like they’d slept much in the last few days. How did a parent ever get over losing a child? Parents were supposed to go first, when they were old and gray, and when their kids were pushing sixty or so. It wasn’t supposed to happen when the kids were in the prime of their life and just starting their career, or—God forbid—when they were five years old. She had a moment of panic and nearly pushed away from the table to call Izzy and check on Lily and Iris. Seamus must have sensed her mood because he reached under the table and gently squeezed her hand. She glanced at him, smiling crookedly at his concerned look. Pull yourself together! They’re fine. Right now, your mom and dad need you. “So, I talked to the funeral director today and tentatively scheduled Neal’s service for Wednesday morning, if that works for everyone? Seamus? Are you scheduled to work?”
“I’m off. I’ll be there.” He stood to start clearing the plates.
Nina started to rise to help him, but he shook his head slightly and looked at her parents. She got the message and let him clean up while she, Nick, and her parents planned the funeral service. They called Nate and made sure he could be there as well. His wife wasn’t due for another week, and she insisted he go to his brother’s funeral, so he said he’d book a flight. As sad as the conversation was, having something tangible to focus on seemed to help them all. By the time Nina and Seamus left to pick the girls up from Izzy and Mac’s, they’d cried and laughed and tried to begin to deal with the reality of Neal’s death. She knew there would be other bad days ahead, but it was enough for now.
***
Wednesday dawned clear and bright—not surprising for Albuquerque, of course—but today especially it seemed designed to piss her off. It was doing a great job. The day they buried her twin brother should be dark and dreary; the brilliant sunshine beating down on the mourners gathered at the graveside service was an offense. Seamus stood beside her, handsome and grim in his navy suit, the muscle in his jaw flexing spasmodically as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He lost the battle when the minister closed the service with a final prayer and a soloist began singing “Amazing Grace,” Neal’s flower-draped coffin sinking slowly out of sight as the lowering device creaked and groaned. She swallowed a hysterical gurgle as she thought about slipping forward and dripping W-D 40 over the gears. Why am I thinking about such inappropriate things during my brother’s funeral? She shook her head to clear her thoughts, forcing them back to the final moments of the service.
The luncheon reception in the church social hall was interminable. She pushed the remains of some unnamed c
asserole around on her paper plate, then reached for the Styrofoam cup of too-hot coffee. She sipped, then grimaced at the bitter taste.
“It’s not Starbuck’s, that’s for sure.” Seamus joined her with his own cup of the foul brew.
“Definitely not.” She pushed the plate away and stirred another packet of sugar into her coffee. “How are you holding up?”
He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m dealing with it. You?”
“Today won’t make my top ten list, that’s for sure. I need this to be over, Seamus.”
He reached for her hand. “I know. Are all these people family friends?” He gestured to the crowded room.
“Friends of my parents, mostly.” She saw Kira sitting at a nearby table, her hands lying limp in her lap. “I should go talk to her.” But Gordy reached her first and Nina couldn’t bring herself to rise out of her chair. “I’m so tired.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Yes, please. “I wish I could.” She sighed and reached for her cup again. “But I need to stay for my parents.”
“Okay, but just say the word when you’re ready to split. Just a sec.” He reached into his jacket for his phone and glanced at the screen, frowning. “It’s my mom. She knows I’m at the funeral and she wouldn’t call unless it was important. Excuse me.”
She watched him step out into the hallway, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oh, please, God. Don’t let it be anything else bad! We can’t handle it! When he stepped back into the social hall several minutes later, his face was pale, and his expression preoccupied. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mel. She’s in labor.”
“That’s great—”
“Something’s wrong with the baby. They’re taking her into surgery now. I have to go.”
Chapter Seven
