by Terri Reid
Bradley turned to Sean. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Thanks a lot.”
Sean grinned. “Hey, just trying to break the ice.”
Timothy shook his head. “Next you’ll tell me you thought the call in the third quarter was bad,” he said.
“Well, as a matter of fact,” Sean began. “Bradley thought...”
Bradley elbowed Sean. “Shut up, Sean,” he whispered fiercely.
Sean chuckled. “Hey, da, Bradley needs to talk to you,” he said. “And you better do it now or he won’t be able to enjoy breakfast.”
Timothy stood up. “You need to speak with me?” he asked.
Bradley nodded. “Yes sir, I do.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go out to the back yard. We can have a little privacy there.”
They walked out through a patio door and down a path that led to a large garden. “I like puttering around in here during the spring and summer,” Timothy said. “When things grow, it’s like a little miracle. You get this small seed, you stick it in the dirt, water it and then you get a tomato plant.”
“I used to have a garden,” Bradley said, “When I lived in Sycamore.”
“Sean told us about your wife and your daughter,” Timothy said. “I want you to know how sorry I am for you, for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Bradley said, “I couldn’t have ever discovered what had happened to her without Mary. And Sean has been so helpful. I owe your family a great deal.”
Timothy nodded and walked forward. “So, you came to my house to thank me?” he asked.
Bradley shook his head. “No. I mean I am grateful, but that’s not why I’m here,” he said. “I...I love Mary.”
“Yeah, well, that’s understandable,” Timothy said, “She’s a lovely person.”
“No, I mean, I love her,” he said. “And I want to ask her to marry me.”
Timothy scratched his head. “So, you just discover what happened to your wife and now you want to marry my daughter. Don’t you think it’s pretty fast?”
“I think I’ve been in love with Mary since the moment I met her,” he explained. “But, I couldn’t act on it because I didn’t know what happened to Jeannine. I searched for her for eight years, without ever being unfaithful. Mary is the only woman who makes me feel this way.”
Timothy nodded and rubbed his chin with his hand. “You’ve got a daughter?”
Bradley nodded.
“And even without knowing her,” Timothy said. “You’d give your life for her, you’d die for her.”
Once again, Bradley nodded.
“So, Mary’s my little girl,” he said, looking up and meeting Bradley’s eyes. “And you’re asking me to let you have her. How do I know your good enough? How do I know you’re going to take care of her?”
Bradley ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not good enough for her,” he said. “She’s amazing. She loves unconditionally, she gives without question. She is braver, stronger and nobler than I will ever be. But for some reason, she loves me. What I can promise you is she will never want for anything. She will never doubt my love. Nothing will ever be more important in my life than Mary.”
Timothy nodded slowly. “And what happens if I say no?”
Closing his eyes, Bradley felt his heart shatter within his chest. He took a deep breath and faced Timothy. “If you say no, then I won’t ask her to marry me,” he said. “Her family, all of you, mean too much to her for me to cause a rift in it.”
“You wouldn’t ask her anyway and let her choose what she wants?”
He shook his head. “No, because either choice would hurt her. I never want to hurt her.”
Timothy turned away from Bradley and stared at a playground set in the far corner of the yard for a few moments. “I built that playground set for Mary,” he said. “She’d spend hours on it. Never swinging on it, like normal kids. No, she’d climb all over it.”
Bradley couldn’t think of anything to say. Was Timothy changing the subject? Was the conversation over? Was he finally going to be able to marry her, only to be turned away by her father?
Timothy took a deep breath. “Are you going to find your daughter?” he asked.
“Yes, I am, I will find my daughter.”
Timothy turned back and nodded his head. “Good. Good. I need a granddaughter to play on that playground.”
Bradley inhaled deeply. “You mean?” he asked.
Timothy patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Bradley,” he said, with a smile. “Take care of my little girl.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Mary walked down the stairs slowly, still tired from the night before.
“Shhhh, don’t tell her,” she heard Maggie say. “It’s a s’prize.”
“Aye, darling, we’ll just keep it our little secret,” Ian said.
“She’s gonna like it all right,” Andy offered. “She likes stuff like that.”
Mary felt her heart melt and warmth replace the fatigue from the night before. How was she ever going to be able to let those two go home? She rubbed her hand over her heart.
“She’s coming,” Maggie said. “I can hear her.”
Mary hurried down the remainder of the stairs and walked into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said brightly.
Maggie and Andy stood up, their hands behind their backs. “We made something for you,” Maggie announced. “Something you’re gonna love.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Breakfast!” Andy said.
They brought their hands forward. Maggie was holding a large glass of chocolate milk, with extra syrup running down the sides. “I made it myself,” she said. “It has lots of chocolate.”
“LOTS of chocolate,” Ian emphasized, from the other side of the counter.
Andy held out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut in diamonds. “I made this myself,” he added proudly. “It’s got peanut butter and jelly and raisins and marshmallows.”
“Well, everything looks delicious,” Mary said.
“And we colored on the plate,” Maggie added. “See.”
The paper plate had little hearts and squiggles drawn all over it. “It’s the most beautiful plate I’ve ever seen.”
“We already ate our breakfast, so we can watch you eat yours,” Andy said.
Mary took a sip of the chocolate milk and realized Ian had not been joking. It tasted like the drink was half syrup and half milk. “This is the most chocolaty milk I’ve ever had,” she said. “It’s delicious.”
She lifted a portion of the sandwich and took a big bite. “Mmmmm, good,” she murmured, the roof of her mouth covered with peanut butter. “Delicious.”
“See, there, I told you she’d love it,” Ian said, carrying a cup of tea to her.
“To help you wash things down,” he whispered.
Then she saw Ian’s face, covered with a bruise the size of an orange.
She placed her hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, Ian, I’m so sorry,” she said. “That looks awful.”
“Ian told us he got it when he was fighting a monster last night,” Andy said. “A huge monster. Twenty feet tall.”
Mary grinned. “Twenty feet tall?” she gasped. “Oh, my, where did you find such a beast?”
Ian looked slightly discomfited. “Aye, well, it was in the wee hours of the morning,” he said. “And I was...I was stepping outside because I heard a noise.”
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to go outside when you hear noises?” Andy lectured. “That’s what always gets the guys killed in the movies.”
“He’s right, Ian,” Mary agreed, walking toward the counter and picking up an extra piece of toast slathered with marmalade. “And movies never lie.”
“Unlike some Scottish professors I know,” she whispered.
Ian coughed. “Well, and I was afraid it was going to come into the house,” he said. “So I was willing to take the risk.”
Maggie giggled. “Mike would have sav
ed us,” she said.
“Mike is another one of her imaginary friends,” Andy explained. “She even talks to him at night.”
Maggie turned and grinned at Mike who was standing in the corner. He winked at her and then stuck out his tongue at Andy, which made the little girl giggle even more.
Andy shook his head. “Sometimes things are weird at your house, Mary.”
Mary laughed out loud. “Oh, Andy, I totally agree with you.”
“I told Mom about Mike yesterday when she called,” Maggie said. “She said he was probably a guardian angel.”
“Moms have to say stuff like that so they don’t hurt your feelings,” Andy responded.
Ian chuckled. “I’m sure you have at least two guardian angels looking out for you,” he said to Andy.
Grinning, Andy nodded. “Yeah, Mom says my guardian angel must be exhausted by the end of the day.”
“Aye, like Mary’s guardian angels,” Ian said, winking at her.
“Mary has more than one?” Andy asked.
“Oh, aye, she needs a whole army of them.”
“Okay, it’s time to brush your teeth and get ready for the bus,” Mary interrupted. “We don’t want you to be late for school.”
Maggie sighed. “You sounded just like a mom when you said that.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” Mary said with a sad smile.
A few minutes later, Mary opened the door to let the children out and found Rosie and Stanley ready to knock. “Well, good morning,” Mary said, as Andy and Maggie brushed past her.
“Good morning,” Rosie said. “I baked some cookies for some good children to have when they get home from school. Do you know any good children?”
“I’m good,” Maggie said. “I’m very good.”
“Me too,” Andy agreed, he paused for a moment and added, “Most of the time.”
“Well, I think most of the time is good enough for Chocolate Chip cookies,” Rosie said. “Don’t you think?”
Andy nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, then, hurry off to school, so you can hurry home,” she said.
The children ran down the steps to the waiting bus.
“You’d better hide those cookies from Ian or there won’t be any left for the kids,” Mary warned with a smile, inviting them into the house.
“I heard that, Mary O’Reilly,” Ian called, walking in from the kitchen.
“What the hell happened to you?” Stanley exclaimed.
“I went a round with a famous Irish pugilist,” he said. “And I lost.”
“Mary did that to you?” Stanley replied, his eyes narrowing as he approached Ian. “What did you do to her?”
Mary stepped between them. “I was having a nightmare, a flashback, and Ian was helping me,” she said. “In my dream I was punching Gary, unfortunately...”
“You got quite an arm Mary,” Stanley said, examining the bruise.
“To say nothing of the fist attached to it,” Ian added.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have some cookies just for you,” Rosie said, laying a plate of cookies on the coffee table. “I remembered how much you enjoyed these the last time I made them.
Ian picked up a cookie and took a bite. “I’m feeling better already,” he sighed, savoring the taste of the cookie.
Mary reached for one and Ian snatched the plate away from her. “I’m sorry, young lady,” he said. “You can’t have any cookies until you’ve finished your breakfast.”
“You want a bruise on the other side?” she asked.
He handed over a cookie. “You’ve a way with words, Mary,” he said.
Rosie sat down on the couch and cleared her throat. “We do need to get ready,” she said. “Stevo Morris will be here any moment.”
“Who’s Stevo Morris,” Ian asked.
“He was the shortstop on the high school baseball team,” Rosie explained. “The one who helped the coach get all of the students out of the room.”
“He was the last person to see Coach Thorne alive?” Mary asked.
Rosie nodded. “The coach helped him down and he was waiting for the coach to come next. He hit the ground, turned around to help the coach and the explosion knocked him to the ground.”
“That’s pretty traumatic,” Ian said.
“Yeah, he blamed himself for a long time,” Rosie said. “If he’d been faster the coach would have made it out safely.”
“Well, it will be interesting to interview him.” Mary said. “When is he supposed to arrive?”
A knock on the door delayed any answer.
Mary walked over to the door and opened it. On the other side was a tall, thin man with a badly scarred face, bright blue eyes and a thick shock of white hair. “Mary O’Reilly?” he asked politely.
Mary smiled. “Yes, hi, you must be Mr. Morris.”
“Stevo,” he said, with a shy smile, “And this is my wife, Lo.”
He stepped to the side and Mary saw the tall blonde woman standing next to him. Although Mary guessed she was also in her sixties, she was the kind of woman whose bone structure and perfect skin made her ageless. Her hair was cut in a fashionable bob and she was dressed in jeans and a fitted sweater.
“Hello,” Lo said, her voice soft and timid. “I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.”
“No, I don’t mind at all,” Mary said, with a welcoming smile. “The more information we can get, the better. Please come in.”
Rosie performed introductions and the group sat around the fireplace in the living room.
“Do you remember how the fire started?” Mary asked.
“It started at my lab table,” he said. “We were adding distilled water to ammonium nitrate, I’ll never forget that.”
“That shouldn’t have caused an explosion,” Ian said.
“No, it shouldn’t have,” Stevo agreed. “And there were other students whose experiments did what they were supposed to do. But, the stuff in my beaker started foaming up and getting hot. The coach yelled at me to step back.”
“So, you’re sure the other experiments worked,” Mary said.
“Yeah, I remember Jon saying it was freezing.”
“Can we speak with Jon?” Ian asked.
Stevo shook his head. “No, Jon died in Viet Nam,” he explained. “But when the investigator from B&R interviewed us, Jon said his experiment was fine. If they still have a record of the fire, that interview ought to be in it.”
“Why did the investigator interview the students?” Mary asked.
Stevo shook his head. “Someone was trying to call it negligence and they wanted to blame the coach. There was a pretty big deal made of it.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rosie said.
“Yeah, well, it was mostly the guys in the baseball team who were interviewed,” he said. “All the guys knew the coach was a stand-up guy. No way was he careless.”
“The coach was a hero,” Lo added fervently. “He looked out for all of the students, not just on the team or in his classes.”
She paused for a moment and then reached over and clasped her husband’s hand. He met her eyes and nodded, patting her hand.
“He saved a lot of lives,” she said. “He was one of the good guys. He didn’t care if you were rich and powerful or just one of the little people. He stood up for what was right.”
“Tell me what happened before the explosion,” Mary asked.
“Me and the coach got everyone else out of the room,” he said. “Then the coach told me it was my turn. He told me he’d jump down after me and wanted me to catch him. So, he lowered me down as far as he could and then I dropped and rolled.”
Stevo shook his head.
“It wasn’t more than a minute later, I stood up to catch him and the whole place exploded. It was like the Fourth of July.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there were sparks, like fireworks, coming out of the window.”
“Where was the coach standing whe
n he dropped you out the window?” Mary asked.
“We were at the window at the front of the class because the smoke from the back of the room was moving up,” he said. “He was facing the window, because he was letting me down.”
“Was there a fire in the front of the room?” she asked, remembering the burns on the right side of the coach’s face.
He shook his head. “No, it was all in the back, but it was slowly moving forward,” he said.
“Is there any reason the coach would have turned away from the window, gone back into the room?”
“No, everyone was out. All he had to do was climb onto the window sill,” he said. “But the explosion happened too fast. It didn’t give him a chance.”
“Do you remember anything odd about the explosion?” she asked. “Do you remember what it smelled like?”
Stevo’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do remember that it smelled like garlic bread. It was so weird.”
Mary wrote down the word “Phosphorus” and then looked back at Stevo and Lo. “Was there anyone who would have wanted to kill the coach?”
Stevo shook his head. “No. No, everyone loved Coach Thorne.”
Lo looked up and then lowered her head, not meeting Mary’s eyes. “No,” she said, “No.”
Mary put her notepad down. “Well, thank you,” she said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“If there’s anything else we can do,” Stevo said. “Just let us know.”
Mary nodded. “Thanks, I might just do that.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Mary asked Ian.
They were sitting in the parking lot of B&R Manufacturing on the outskirts of Freeport.
“Aye, let me go in first,” he said. “Then if we have some follow up questions, you can go in without raising suspicions. Besides, I’m a college professor; I’m used to dealing with stuffy administrators.”
He hopped out of the Roadster and entered the front door. The wooden paneled lobby and tile floor spoke of the years of success in the farming community. The large portraits of the former presidents spoke of the obvious pride they had in their business.
Ian tugged at the sleeves of his suit coat and made sure he was in pristine condition before he approached the front desk. “Hello,” the burly man at the front desk said. “Can I help you.”
