Diamonds and Cole: Cole Sage Mystery #1

by Micheal Maxwell

  Cole called Mick Brennan on Monday morning and told him of Ellie’s passing. The next call was a little more difficult. The Reverend E.T. Bates was supposed to know all the right things to say. His years of standing beside hospital beds and caskets should have given the experience to have a repertoire revised, honed, and practiced thousands of times. Yet, it seemed as though the old preacher couldn’t find the words he wanted to comfort Cole.

  “I didn’t know her, Cole,” Bates said with unusual softness in his volume, “but she touched me. I have seen many, many people facing death. She had such a peace, such dignity. I hope when my time comes, I can face it with as much concern for others as she showed. She loved you very much. We talked for a very short time, she was so weak, but she spoke of you and her daughter. She was so afraid you would be tormented by not getting the girl home. You know, Cole, we can lead the way but the prodigal has to make the choice to return.”

  “She came back,” Cole said, “last night.”

  “Thank you, Jesus,” the old man said reverently. “I prayed she would.”

  “Would you do the service?”

  “I would be honored.”

  “I’ll have the funeral parlor call you with the details. Let’s keep it simple. She didn’t like a lot of falderal. I know you’ll have the right words, maybe a song. She didn’t want a chapel service, just something by the graveside. She loved the outdoors, you know?”

  “I’m praying for you, brother.” This was a benediction. The conversation was over, the volume was back up.

  Cole and Erin had spoken only briefly regarding the funeral. She had given her blessing to whatever he decided. Cole had asked her if there was anything special she wanted done. There wasn’t. With great difficulty, he had asked her to get something for Ellie to wear. Erin said she already had.

  “Are you going to call Allen and the kids?” Erin had asked hesitantly.

  “To hell with them,” was Cole’s only response, subject closed.

  Cole felt very awkward, and Erin was all business. The call only lasted a minute or two. When he hung up, he felt very alone. He walked to the curtains and drew them closed. He hadn’t dressed and wouldn’t. He lay back on the unmade bed and pulled the covers up tight around him. The room was dark and cool. Cole Sage was totally and completely alone. The future loomed like an ancient tapestry before him and, as he thought of his life without the possibility of Ellie, he drifted into sleep.

  After waking early, showering, and forcing down a paper cup of bitter instant motel room coffee, Cole left the hotel and went for a long drive into the foothills. Near a grove of live oak trees, he stopped and ate a sandwich and apple he’d gotten at a little grocery along the way. He realized it was the first food he had eaten in two days. Cole climbed over a sagging barbed wire fence and walked to the top of a hill. The grass was dry and the wind gusted.

  At the top of the hill, he lay back in the grass and watched the huge billowy clouds roll by. This was Ellie’s kind of day. He thought of a day just like this when they lay in a meadow full of daisies and talked of what their life was going to be like. They laughed and dreamed about a life together, growing old, having had brilliant careers and a houseful of kids. They talked of trips to Europe and a big ecologically sound fireplace crackling in a roomful of books and big pillows. Cole knew that’s the way it would have been.

  Call it closure, call it resolution, call it atonement, but Cole was at peace. Ellie was gone. He had asked forgiveness, declared his love; he had gotten the gift of a daughter. He knew if they’d had the time, they would have been good together. Just as he had dreamed looking out of a thousand airplane windows, he did not regret his loneliness; it had prepared him for the sweetness of their coming together again. Ellie had prepared him for a life without her, this time separation with a loving goodbye. This time there was no guilt, nor despair. The loss of Ellie was as she had told him; the beginning of a life of beautiful memories and love remembered. He knew he was going to be all right and, at this moment, his heart felt as big as the clouds overhead.

  Cole left the hill with a sense that the new life Ellie had promised would become a reality. The drive back to town was free of dread. The grapefruit-sized knot he had lived with since Ellie’s phone call was gone. He didn’t know when it had disappeared, but it seemed he was breathing freer, deeper. He thought of Erin. He hoped they would keep in touch. He hoped for a relationship with her, but he was realistic, too. Why would she suddenly want a stranger in her life just because they were linked biologically? He wouldn’t push it. If it happened, it would be wonderful; if it didn’t, he already understood.

  Erin had spent the morning making calls. The first was to her husband, Ben. He had often wondered if his wife would ever reach out to her mother, and was quietly pleased when Erin said she was going to see Ellie. It saddened him that he had never met her. Although estranged, Erin often spoke with deep fondness of her mother. He had heard her many times while putting Jenny to bed sing little songs or tell stories that she said, “My mama told me when I was your age....” Ben had hoped and prayed that the trip would put things right between Erin and her mother. Although he would never tell her, it had always deeply troubled him that she had felt such bitterness towards the woman.

  Ben’s family was very close, and his relationship with his own mother was something he treasured. His father had passed away when he was in his first year of med school. Ben would’ve taken a leave of absence, but his mother and sister wouldn’t hear of it. Their argument was that his father would never have accepted putting off the goal. In the end, he knew they were right and could hear his father’s voice directing him to push on. Without family support and cheerleading on the sidelines, he was sure he never would’ve made it through medical school.

  Erin told Ben she’d be back Thursday night after the funeral. She turned down his offer to join her. She thought it would be best if he just stayed with Jenny. Ben volunteered to tell her supervisor of Ellie’s death and arrange time off for Erin. Mrs. Bishop would take care of Jenny during the day as usual, and Ben would trade shifts with Joe Jaramillo so he would be home every night that Erin was gone.

  Erin found it hard to express how much she appreciated Ben’s support. It wasn’t what he said, it was who he was. His strength and caring for her was more than she thought she could have expected from anyone again. It was the same inner strength her mother had possessed before she’d surrendered to Allen Christopher’s dominance. Erin told Ben she loved him, sent kisses to Jenny, and said goodbye. She did not say a word about Cole.

  Later in the afternoon, Erin drove around town for a while and bought a dress and new shoes for the services the next day. She checked into the Holiday Inn, ate a salad from Wendy’s in her room, and cried herself to sleep. Cole went to a florist when he got back to town and ordered flowers for Ellie. He had a burrito from a taco truck and stopped to watch a group of college age kids playing soccer in the park. He later fell asleep in his motel room with the television on.

  Cole and Erin found themselves with nothing much to do. Erin called an old friend from school and went to lunch with her. In the afternoon, she felt a strange urge to see the house where she grew up. As she pulled up across the street, she thought something wasn’t quite right. The curtains looked different, and several large juniper bushes that had been under the front windows were gone. In their place was a beautiful bed of flowers. New white shutters were decorating all the front windows, and the front door had been painted a deep green. She was shocked when a tall, slender black woman came out of the house and loaded three kids into the minivan parked in the drive. The woman gave her a broad smile and a friendly wave as she pulled out. Allen had sold. Just as well, Erin thought.

  Cole had gone to a used bookstore and tried in vain to get interested in looking at the mystery section. The store smelled old and musty, the woman behind the counter chatted on the phone. Her voice was grating, and he found the classical music irritating. He was in and out within fi
ve minutes. The new multiplex cinema on McAllister was his last hope. He paid the matinee price for a ticket to see a mindless blood-and-guts fest about a tattooed drifter who finds himself protecting a beautiful blonde, whose husband had been killed by renegade Indians, and her little boy. It was just what he needed; in fact, he stayed and watched it twice. Nobody noticed.

  Around six, Cole returned to the Holiday Inn and was unlocking his door when someone called his name. Turning, he saw Erin unlocking the door next to his.

  “Hello, neighbor,” Erin said with a smile.

  “Hello yourself.”

  They stood looking at each other for the longest time. Neither of them wanted to move. It felt good, comforting even.

  Finally Cole said,”Have you had dinner?”

  “No. You?”

  “Nope.”

  “Would you like to?” Erin said shyly.

  “Very much.”

  “Okay, let’s.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Mashed potatoes and gravy.” Erin smiled. “Comfort food, you know?”

  “I know just the place.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they walked into Gustav’s Hof Brau. The windows were steamed over, and a TV in the corner silently played a baseball game. At the far end of the room was a cafeteria-style counter. Behind the counter stood an ageless Chinese man, who could have been 40 or 80, in a white shirt and apron. On his head was a white paper diner hat and in his hand was a carving knife.

  “That’s Lou, he’s owned this place for a hundred years. Your mom and I used to call this place ‘German Mao.’ He’s got just what you need.” Cole turned his attention toward the man. “Hi, Lou, how about mashed potatoes and gravy for the lady. I’ll have a barbecued pork sandwich on a roll and a side of dressing and gravy.”

  “Just like when you a kid. You never change order? This your daughter? She look just like mom. Make me feel old, you know,” Lou beamed. He loved showing off his memory.

  “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

  “I read your stuff. Pretty good most of the time.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said with a touch of irony in his voice.

  “She very pretty girl. How’s your mom? I haven’t seen her in four or five years.”

  Erin looked at Cole and smiled warmly, “I think she’s doing fine.”

  “You tell her hello for me. She a very pretty lady, nice, too.”

  “So, how’s your wife?” Cole interjected.

  “She died. Five years now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Cole said.

  “It’s okay, part of life, you know? I still got five kids and 13 grandkids. Without my Fay, I would have nothing. It’s good, part of life. I miss her, though.” Lou put two steaming plates on their trays. “Here you go.”

  Cole paid and they went to a booth. There was an elderly man sipping tea sitting at a corner table; otherwise, the restaurant was empty. Cole removed their plates, took the empty trays, and slid them across to the table in the next aisle.

  “Looks good,” Erin said not lifting her eyes from her plate.

  “The Comfort Food Palace.” Cole smiled.

  “So, what happened to your face?”

  “Ran into some bad guys,” Cole said with embarrassment, having forgotten about his bruises.

  The two sat eating in silence for several minutes. Cole’s mind raced for something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. He was thankful that each time he looked up she was looking down. When he looked down at his plate, he could feel Erin’s eyes on him. Being a newspaperman had put Cole across a lot of tables with a lot of people who either didn’t want to talk or were afraid to. This was a case of neither. The table was silent but not strained. Cole felt he needed to say something because he wanted to talk to Erin, he just didn’t know where to start.

  “So, what do we do with each other now?” Erin said, not looking up.

  “I don’t know,” Cole began. “What would you like us to do?”

  “I don’t know how to say what I am feeling exactly. I want to—” Erin stirred her mashed potatoes with the tip of her fork.

  “Let’s pretend I’m not here. You talk to yourself out loud and I’ll listen. How ‘bout that?”

  Erin looked up at him for the first time and smiled. “I’ll try that. You see, well, in the last 48 hours, I’ve replayed the tape of my life in my head. I’m not sure if it is the eyes of an adult that is making some things clearer or that I just want to see them a certain way. You know what I mean? You are a kind of mythological figure in my life story. This hero that my mother told stories of, someone who, to me, was untouchable, who was like a character from the books we read at bedtime. As I grew older, the Cole stories were like Aesop’s Fables, the little Cole antidotes for the latest adolescent problems.”

  Cole knew his face was flushing, and it was made worse by his realizing it would soon turn beet red.

  “My mother, I can see now, never stopped loving you. Allen was a way of making sure I had a home. The fact it turned out to be something like out of Dickens is another matter.” Erin smiled. “What I am trying to say is, finding out you are my father is like one of my mother’s fairytale Cole stories. I know it’s true, but it is just, I don’t know, too perfect, and not real somehow, and I am having a hard time believing it.”

  “She didn’t make it up, Erin,” Cole said rubbing his hand across his mouth.

  “I’m not saying that,” Erin replied quickly.

  “We loved each other very much. I was stupid; I let pride and some kind of macho bullshit get in the way of the only thing that ever mattered to me. I’m to blame for any pain and any hurt that you have been through. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ sounds so trite. I’ve tried time and again in these last couple of days to think of what to say to you, try to explain, and it all comes out sounding like a lame excuse, which I guess in the end, it is. But this you have to believe: Whether we ever see each other again after tomorrow or not, if I could have died instead of your mother, I would have, in a heartbeat. If I could’ve given you two a chance to spend time together again, for Ellie to see her granddaughter, to meet your husband, I would have done anything, anything to have made that happen.”

  Erin looked down again at her plate. Cole looked at the top of her head, her beautiful curly brown hair, and tried to imagine her as a little girl. Something he could have seen, could have been part of, but unknowingly threw away.

  “I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”

  “Me either.” Cole reached for a napkin and wrapped the remaining half of his sandwich. He shrugged and sheepishly said, “Starving kids and all that.”

  The drive back to the Holiday Inn was quiet. Cole played the radio and nervously hummed along. Erin looked out the window. They exchanged quick goodnights and went into their rooms. As his door clicked shut, Cole remembered he needed to ask Erin about the details and procedures for in the morning, returned to her room and knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  “Uh, me,” Cole said at a loss for a comfortable answer, “Cole.”

  Her door opened a few inches. “What’s up?”

  “I guess we have a limo tomorrow, from the funeral chapel, I mean. Would you like to ride there together?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “About 10:30?”

  “Okay.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  The door closed softly, and Cole returned once again to his room. It had been made up and smelled slightly of cleaning products. He picked up the newspaper that lay at the foot of the bed. In the right corner below the fold was a picture of Ellie and a headline that read, Local Humanitarian and Volunteer Passes. This had Mick Brennan all over it. Cole smiled as he read of Ellie’s impact on local charities and selfless volunteer work on behalf of numerous causes. The article ended with an appeal to give generously to one of her favorite charities. Perfect, Cole thought, she would have loved it.