by Syndi Powell
Cassie smirked at this. “That’s just Andie’s usual face. She’s always thinking about some man.”
Hardly. Andie had thought about one man, Brian, until last year when she’d realized that nothing was going to come from it. And while she might look at men, she didn’t think about them.
Until Beckett.
Her mother turned to her. “Is it anyone we know, dear?”
Andie shook her head, mortified to be drawn into the discussion like this. “There’s no one.” When her mother arched one eyebrow, she gave a shrug. “I thought we were going to be discussing Cassie’s wedding plans over dinner.”
“Nice way to change topics.” Cassie put her napkin on her lap and heaved a sigh. “But yes. We do need to talk about the wedding. And more specifically, my fiancé, John. When will he be included in our Sunday dinners?”
Her mother and aunt shared looks between each other until her mother gave an imperious nod. “Once he’s officially in the family, Cassandra. There is nothing wrong with spending time without him before you get married.”
“And this way we can talk about him when he’s not around.” Andie grinned at her sister. “Now let’s talk about the bachelorette party.”
Her mother groaned. “You two are not going to a club to ogle men, are you?”
Cassie’s head reared back as if she was offended by the idea. “Actually, I don’t want a party, but I thought the Sunday before the wedding will be a special dinner with the three of us. I made a reservation at Lucido’s.” Cassie glanced at their aunt. “I mean four, if you’ll join us, Aunt Sylvie.”
The name of the restaurant brought back memories of other times the family had eaten there for special occasions. Significant birthdays. Anniversaries. High school graduations. Even celebrating her entry into the Miss Michigan beauty pageant. It had been years since the last visit. Well before her father had left. Andie realized that her sister was attempting to redeem some of their past with this dinner.
Sylvie put a hand to her chest. “I’d be honored.”
Cassie shook her head. “I can’t believe the wedding is a little more than a month from now. Where did the time go? It seems like John just proposed.”
“And the bridal shower is this coming weekend.” Their mother left the table and returned carrying a large binder stuffed with pages of notes. She turned to the appropriate section. “I confirmed the reservation at the tearoom for twenty-seven plus the bridal party. Andromeda, I have you down for arriving at noon as well as Sylvie and myself so that we can set the tables with the antique tea sets. Cassandra, you’re expected at one.”
“And John has to be there by four to help transport gifts. I know. We’ve gone over it several times.” Cassie opened her own notebook by her plate. “What I want to discuss is the reception. More specifically, the father-daughter dance.”
Forks poised in the air. Knives clattered to the table. Her mother choked on the sip of water she’d been drinking. “Cassandra, your father is incarcerated and will be unable to attend the wedding.”
Cassie gave a nod that seemed to be tinged with regret and a little sadness. “John has a special dance with his mother, but I don’t know what to do about my dance. It doesn’t seem right to completely leave it out.”
Andie could tell the thought of not having the dance at all made Cassie sad on a day that should be filled with happiness. “Ask Biggie or Tiny if they would step in for Daddy.”
Cassie nodded slowly as she chewed. Besides being loyal employees of Cassie’s, the Buttucci brothers had stepped in as honorary uncles to both of them on several occasions since they were young. “You’re right. They’d both be happy to dance with me. I’ll ask them. Great idea, Andie.”
Another arched eyebrow from her mother. “Both of the Buttucci brothers?”
“I don’t think I could decide between them, so I’ll dance the first half of the song with one, then change partners.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think Daddy would mind?”
Andie wanted to argue that he had lost his chance of caring whether it happened without him, when he became a thief and ruined the lives they’d known. But Cassie had always been her father’s favorite, and she still seemed to care what he thought.
Truth be told, Andie too still cared about what he thought of her. If he thought of her at all.
Their mother patted her mouth with her napkin and set it down on the table beside her plate. “Your father would support whatever you wanted for the wedding. I’m sure he would approve.” She gave them all a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Their mother left the room followed closely by Aunt Sylvie. Alone with her sister, Andie turned to Cassie. “Is there ever going to be a time when the mention of Daddy doesn’t send Mother out of the room to cry?”
“He was sentenced to ten years in prison. How long do you think it will take before we accept that and move on?” Cassie peered at her. “I’m planning on going to see Daddy on Saturday morning. Did you want to come with me?”
“Will we have time before the shower?”
Cassie nodded. “I haven’t seen him since before Thanksgiving. I keep meaning to go visit, but other things keep popping up for this wedding, and I put it off.” She reached across the table, her hand extended. “Please. It would be easier if we go together.”
Seeing her father wouldn’t be easy, but she agreed and put her hand in Cassie’s. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Their mother and aunt returned to the dining room, and the sisters put their hands in their laps. Cassie glanced at her notebook. “There’s one more thing we need to talk about for the wedding. Who is going to give me away? And before you say anything, I have an idea about that.” She looked at their mother and then Andie. “I’d like you both to walk me down the aisle.”
“Cassandra, I don’t think—”
“Exactly, Mother. Don’t think. Just hear me out.” She took a deep breath. “This past year and a half hasn’t been the easiest for any of us, but I always knew that I could count on you and Andie. I don’t know what I would have done without you both. So will you throw convention out the window on this detail and walk side by side with me?”
Tears sprang to Andie’s eyes, and she stood and walked around the table to put her arms around her sister. “I’d be honored. Thank you.”
Cassie stood and hugged her back. “I know it’s not the usual custom for the maid of honor to walk with the bride, but I don’t care.”
The two sisters, their arms around each other’s waists, gazed at their mother. “What do you say, Mother?”
She rose to her feet and put her arms around them. “I don’t think I could refuse such a request, do you?”
Sylvie clapped her hands as they embraced.
* * *
THE HOUSE NEEDED more work than Beckett had expected when he bought it, but he had tacked on extra weeks to the timeline. Experience had taught him that unforeseen problems popped up with regularity. This particular problem in the bathroom made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. “Black mold, you think?”
Next to him, Rob shook his head and pulled his gloves higher over his wrists. “Mold doesn’t usually give off this kind of odor.” He put a finger through the dark spot they’d uncovered. “This is some kind of rot. The wood framing will have to be ripped out and replaced.”
Beckett had to agree. “Let’s get some face masks on before we try to cut it out. In case it is black mold, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”
He left the room to retrieve the masks when he heard the whine of the saw start, then a loud clatter and a yelp. Running to help, he discovered Rob on the tile floor, the ladder on top of him. Beckett removed the ladder and crouched next to Rob. “What happened? What hurts?”
“I was going to cut out the board that held the most rot, but I leaned too far and the ladder tipped.” The man win
ced and put a hand to his knee, trying to get off the floor.
“Don’t move. You might have broken something. Let me check.” Recalling his first aid instruction from his army days, Beckett held him carefully and noted his vitals since Rob had hit his head on the hard tile floor. Rob’s heart rate was elevated, but his pupils seemed to be reactive, and otherwise seemed to be okay. Feeling along Rob’s body, he noticed the way one leg was folded under him. Taking extreme care, he helped Rob straighten his leg. “How does that feel?”
Rob’s breath came out like a hiss. “Like someone took a sledgehammer to my knee.”
That’s what he’d been afraid of. “If I help you up, do you think you can make it to my truck? We’re going to the emergency room.”
“It’s just a bruise.”
“It’s more than that, Sergeant, and you and I both know it.” He put his arms under Rob’s armpits and helped the man to stand. “It’s the same knee that you had replaced after Iraq, right?”
Rob grimaced as he tried to put weight on his leg. “I’ve felt worse.”
“Nice try. We’re going.”
They spent the rest of the day at the emergency room while Rob got X-rays that revealed the pins in the new knee had been damaged and the implant would need to be replaced. All said, Rob faced surgery and a couple months of recuperation before he could return to work. The young man sat on the edge of the gurney staring at his feet. “I should’ve waited for you to come back before cutting that board.”
Beckett waved off Rob’s apologies. “Accidents happen.”
Rob reached down to his knee and winced. “How am I going to get through a few months out of work? And you know my mom is going to insist that I move back in with her so she can take care of me.”
Beckett had already planned to help the young man out where his family couldn’t and insurance didn’t. He was more worried about what this would do to Rob’s state of mind. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d come out of a long period of depression. “Don’t worry about anything. Just focus on the surgery then getting back on your feet.”
Rob grimaced at his pun. “This leaves you alone to work on the house. It’s going to set you back on your timeline too.”
Solitude had never bothered Beckett, but a tiny part of him would miss having Rob nag him to stop working to eat lunch or go home for the day. “Maybe the quiet will be good for me.”
“Or you could hire someone else.”
Beckett put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m not replacing you, so you put that out of your head right now. You’ve been with me since the beginning of working on this house and the business. That counts for something.”
A large woman followed by a smaller man entered the room. She started to cry as she saw her son. “It’s fine, Ma. I’ll be okay.” Rob seemed to enjoy her attention even as he protested.
Seeing that his friend was in better hands, Beckett excused himself. Observing families together made him remember things he’d rather forget. Like the fact that he didn’t have one anymore. He’d pushed his brother away after he returned from Iraq the first time. Despite their parents being gone and that he was his only family left, he’d ignored his brother’s calls and texts, hoping his sibling would get the message that Beckett wanted to be alone. Then when Simon had gotten the hint, he regretted that his younger brother had stopped bothering him. Not that he could change it. Years had passed. It was too late.
He returned to the empty work site and walked into the bathroom, staring at the rotting wood. He was better off alone.
* * *
BECKETT STOOD AT the office window of the army base’s psychiatrist, and stared at the barren tree outside. It rose like black fingers trying to grasp at the gray skies above. He then turned and glanced at the clock just behind his therapist’s shoulder. Shoot. Only fifteen minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. He wanted to growl and whine, but figured that would only get him more black marks on his therapist’s notepad. And he seemed to have accumulated a lot of those as the weeks had passed without any kind of breakthrough.
She followed his gaze to the clock and with a smirk on her face, said, “Talking will make the time go by quicker.”
“Doubt it. Nothing to talk about.”
She didn’t say anything, but poised her pen above the notepad that rested on one knee. They sat for a moment in silence until he let out a huge sigh. “Fine. The nightmares have come back. Happy?”
“Why would your nightmares returning make me happy?”
“Because now we have something to talk about.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And before you ask, it’s the same one. Every time. I hear Ruggirello screaming for help but I can’t get to him.”
She made a notation. “Have you written the letter to his widow yet?”
He gave a short nod. That had been his assignment at the last session with Dr. Samples. She had asked him to write Mrs. Ruggirello about his best friend, his comrade in arms. And he had. He’d apologized to her for not being there for her husband. For not saving him. He wished it had been him instead. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t actually written that last part, even though it had been on his mind.
“Did you mail the letter yet?”
Rats. He should have known Dr. Samples was too smart for him. “No.”
“And why not?”
“Because just writing the letter made the nightmares return. What would happen if I actually sent the blasted thing?”
The therapist sat back in her chair. “Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not.”
She pointed to his crossed arms and clenched fists. “Maybe angry is the wrong word. Perhaps defensive is better.”
He laughed at her words. “You use your big words just like someone I met last weekend. She loves to trot out her vocabulary every chance she gets.”
“She?”
He felt as if he’d been busted revealing something that was better left unsaid. “Don’t get any ideas, Doc. She’s just an acquaintance. Work related.”
“And you deflected my questioning about the letter.” She sat forward in her chair, resting her arms on her thighs. “When are you planning on sending it?”
Never. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no big rush, is there? I’ll send it eventually.”
“What if we put a date on that eventually? Say, before our next session?”
She wrote it down in her notes, and he wished he’d kept quiet like he’d planned. His presence at the therapy sessions might be recommended by his superiors, but that didn’t mean he had to share his feelings. The less said, the better. At least that was his opinion. Switching off his feelings had kept him alive in Iraq through three tours. He became the ultimate soldier because of that fact, something the army had given him a medal for. Then they’d sent him to see a therapist when he finally came home for good.
He glanced behind her and noted that ten more minutes had passed. Rubbing his forehead, he wished that the same motion would also turn the hands on the clock.
“How are you sleeping?”
He opened his eyes to peer at Dr. Samples. “Did you miss the part where I mentioned that the nightmares are back? Every night. I try to avoid sleeping because of that.”
“Lieutenant Beckett, you know that not sleeping only makes your condition worse.”
He winced at the title. “It’s just Beckett now. I’ve been discharged from the army.”
“Beckett, then. You need to sleep.”
She didn’t understand what the nightmares did to him. His heart racing. Palms sweating. Throat sore from screaming. Body shaking. No. It was much better to avoid sleeping.
“Have you given any more thought to my suggestion of the therapy dog?”
He shook his head. The last t
hing he needed was to bring an animal into his life when he could barely take care of himself. He’d read the articles she’d recommended, but the benefits didn’t negate the fact that he felt his entire life was a nightmare that he couldn’t wake from. One he desperately wished to be free of. “I can’t.”
She made a note on the pad. “I’d like us to discuss this in more detail next session. And given the nightmares returning and your lack of sleep, I want to see you every week until these symptoms subside. Otherwise, you’ll end up again in the ER.”
He shot to his feet. “Doc, I don’t need more therapy. I need...” He paused. What did he need? Could anything alleviate the despair that dogged his every step?
“That’s the big question, isn’t it, Beckett? What do you need?” The doctor stood and approached him, looking up into his face. “Tell me, Lieutenant.”
“I told you. It’s just Beckett. And I need to be left alone.”
The doctor shook her head. “No, that’s what you want. But if you look deep, you’ll see that’s not what you really need. And until you can tell me what it is you need, we’ll be meeting every week. Tuesdays at four like always.”
He wanted to push this tiny woman away from him. Wanted to stop the drone of voices in his head that told him that it would never get any better than this. That he was someone who didn’t deserve better. But he couldn’t answer the question of what he needed.
In the office building’s parking lot, Beckett sat in his truck, engine running, radio blaring in order to drown out the feelings that seemed to press against his chest and were wanting to come out. He should go to the house and do more work. Without Rob being around now, Beckett made his own hours. Having free time on his hands would not help, so he put the truck in gear and started driving. Where he was driving to didn’t matter as long as he was moving.
He followed traffic around downtown Detroit, taking a left at the Renaissance Center and wound up in a section of strip malls. One looked familiar, and he pulled in to find himself outside Russ’s glass store. He parked close to the entrance and walked inside the shop, the bell above the door announcing his appearance. Russ called out from the back of the store, “We’re closed for inventory.”