by Robin Cook
After coming through the front gate of the proverbial white picket fence and heading for the steps up to the front porch, Brian nodded to a number of people and he also thanked those who were close enough to voice their condolences, but he didn’t stop. As he and Juliette gained the porch, Hannah appeared from within the house as if she had been watching for them.
“Welcome, you two,” Hannah said with a kind of nervous energy. Then, taking Juliette’s hand, she added: “Come, Juliette. Come and say a proper goodbye to your beautiful mother.” She then scooped Juliette up in her arms and headed indoors. Brian was mildly taken aback by her fervor, but realized it made sense given that Emma had been the beloved baby as well as the only girl with three older brothers.
Suddenly bereft of his daughter, he was besieged by well-wishers. Brian thanked all and touched elbows with a number of others, all the while wondering what was happening with Juliette inside the house. As soon as he could, he excused himself and went inside.
In the foyer Brian noticed the mirror above the console table had been turned around. It was a tradition he’d seen before at Irish wakes he’d attended. Pausing, he glanced around the interior of the O’Briens’ large house. In the background he could hear Celtic music playing softly, and a dozen-plus people were standing in small groups in the living and dining rooms conversing quietly.
In the dining room the table was heaped with food, mostly sandwiches. Brian’s father-in-law, Ryan O’Brien, a large and considerably overweight man in his early sixties, was in the living room manning a makeshift bar on a bureau. To the right in a leaded-glass windowed alcove was the bier with a large, expensive-looking open coffin and a cascade of white flowers, mostly roses, which were emitting a pleasant aroma. From where he was standing he could see Emma’s body outfitted in a white dress with her head and striking red hair resting against a white satin pillow. The image gave Brian a physical and emotional jolt, but he was distracted by the sight of Hannah standing next to the coffin, holding Juliette in her arms. It was obvious Hannah was talking but because of the distance compounded by the background music, he couldn’t hear what was being said. Regardless, Juliette appeared frozen, staring at her mother with one hand around Hannah’s neck and the other still clutching Bunny.
Moving closer in hopes of hearing what Hannah was saying, Brian’s effort was thwarted by laughter coming from several male relatives grouped around Ryan. Just as he was getting close enough to hear, someone behind him called out his name. Turning, he saw his mother coming in his direction. She’d emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of additional sandwiches even though the dining table was already heaped with them.
Momentarily torn between his daughter and his mother, he turned toward his mother as she rapidly approached.
“Great to see you two,” Aimée said. “How are you holding up, mon chéri?”
“Reasonably well,” Brian answered. “I’m just concerned about Juliette.”
“Have either of you eaten anything? We’ve got lots of food, with more coming.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was eat or drink.
“I’m glad you brought Juliette. I sensed you were reluctant. What changed your mind?”
“Jeanne Juliette-Shaw,” Brian said. “The woman I told you about from Megan Doyle’s office. She suggested I ask Juliette if she wanted to come, which I did, and Juliette agreed. It surprised me but maybe it shouldn’t. Jeanne seems to really understand children.”
“Well, I know how pleased Hannah is,” Aimée said. “She’s been beside herself waiting for you and Juliette to arrive.”
At that moment Brian and Aimée watched as Hannah leaned forward, allowing Juliette to tuck Bunny in alongside Emma’s right side at chest level. Then Juliette tentatively reached out with an extended index finger and touched Emma’s firm and lifeless cheek. Almost immediately Juliette pulled her hand back as if she’d touched something scorchingly hot and let out a whimper loud enough for both Brian and Aimée to hear.
His heart skipped a beat, and he stepped forward just as Hannah turned around and faced into the room. Seeing her father, Juliette reached out with both hands. Feeling instantly protective, Brian gladly took hold of his daughter, who quickly buried her head in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms tightly around his head.
“Juliette was very good and said goodbye to her mother,” Hannah said. “And she gave her Bunny to keep her company. I’m very proud of her.”
Feeling Juliette holding on to him with surprising force, Brian was immediately concerned that the experience hadn’t been without some psychological pain, making him wonder if he’d made the wrong decision to bring her. It was yet another reminder that his life’s work had totally devolved to her needs.
“Your cousins will be here shortly,” Hannah told Juliette as she reached out and patted the child on the back. “Are you hungry? We have cake coming out soon.”
Juliette didn’t answer but rather gripped his neck with more intensity.
“I think I’ll take her home,” Brian decided on the spot. “My sense is that it has been a bit difficult for her.”
“You should stay and have something to eat!” Hannah offered quickly. “We have a lot of food, including the cake I mentioned.”
“I’m really not hungry. Thank you for all your efforts on Emma’s behalf.”
“You are welcome,” Hannah said. “Will you be back? I’m sure there are lots of people who would like to offer you their condolences.”
“Possibly,” Brian answered, although he knew he didn’t mean it. He’d had enough as well. His consuming love of his wife was for her essence or soul, certainly not for her eviscerated, empty body. He could appreciate that such funeral rituals were helpful for some people and served a social function, but not for him and maybe not for Juliette as well. Recalling the phrase “dust to dust” and its meaning from his catechism instruction as a child, he was developing a new regard for the benefits of cremation.
“Okay,” Hannah said tensely. “Tomorrow the mass will be at ten at the Church of the Good Shepherd followed by the funeral. If you’d like to walk with us, you are more than welcome. We could come by and pick you up.”
“Thank you,” Brian said, not knowing how he felt about it. “I’ll let you know.”
Without putting Juliette down, he headed for the door. As he went, a number of people gestured toward him with their drinks as if making some kind of toast. He nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t stop. Outside, as he crossed the porch, descended the front steps, and then walked the length of the walkway, other people did the same, but thankfully no one tried to stop him. It wasn’t until they were on the street that Juliette indicated she wanted to be put down. After he had, he took her proffered hand, and they walked on in silence. At the halfway mark, he asked her if she was all right and if she was glad she’d said goodbye to her mother. When she didn’t respond, he worried anew whether it had been a mistake to bring her to the wake, although at least he was glad he’d given her the opportunity to decide and hadn’t forced her to go.
Sensing Juliette might have trouble coming to terms with the experience, Brian was glad that Jeanne had offered to help. He also found himself again wondering if the likes of Charles Kelley and Heather Williams had any conception of the real pain and consequences their selfish policies engendered in real families. It was enough to make him furious all over again.
CHAPTER 26
September 1
When Brian and Juliette came in through the front door, they were met by a concerned Camila.
“How did it go?” Camila asked. “You’re back much earlier than I expected.”
“Do you want to tell her?” Brian asked Juliette as they both took off their shoes and face masks. When she stayed silent, he added: “Juliette touched Mommy, and it upset her. Isn’t that right, Pumpkin?”
Juliette made a bee
line for the stairs, apparently retreating to the sanctuary of her room.
Brian and Camila watched her go. “In retrospect, I don’t think her going to the wake was that great an idea,” he said when the child was out of hearing range. “It wasn’t a disaster, or at least I hope not, and it appeared she was doing reasonably well in her grandmother’s arms until she touched Emma’s face. I don’t know if it was her decision to do it or if Hannah encouraged her, or even if it is important. One way or the other, it freaked her out. I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it myself. At any rate, I thought it best to bring her home right away.”
“Oh, dear,” Camila exclaimed, looking up the stairs. “I’ll go up and help her out of her fancy dress and get her into something more comfortable. Then I’ll see if she is hungry.”
“Thank you,” Brian said with a relieved sigh.
“What about you?” she questioned. “How are you holding up?”
“So-so,” Brian said, holding his hand out and tilting it from side to side. “I’m finding the funeral rituals hard to get through. I didn’t like them when my father died, and I like them even less in relation to Emma. For me, the grieving should be personal, not public.”
“Are you going to go back to the wake?” Camila asked. “If you are, I’ll keep Juliette occupied.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve also had enough public mourning for one day. I’ll be in the office. I need to make a call.”
Sitting at his desk, he found himself staring at Emma’s empty work station. The sudden acknowledgment that she was gone for good swept over him, bringing an overwhelming sense of loss along with it. Luckily the emotions abated almost as quickly as they had emerged when he thought of Juliette suffering upstairs in her room. Her immediate needs trumped any thoughts of indulging his own emotions, and he had to concentrate on helping her come to terms with losing her mother at the tender age of four.
Yet looking at Emma’s empty chair also reminded him of the thoughts he’d had yesterday about Personal Protection LLC and whether he wanted to continue building the company in such a difficult time. With that issue in mind, Brian put off calling Roger Dalton, which was who he’d intended to call, and instead rang Deputy Chief Michael Comstock, the commanding officer of the NYPD ESU. Fully expecting to have to leave his name and number and get a call back, Brian was pleasantly surprised when he found himself talking with his former commanding officer. Although the deputy chief had not been happy losing two very popular and talented officers when he and Emma had retired, he now sounded very happy to hear from Brian.
“How are you and Emma and how is your security company navigating the pandemic?” Michael asked.
“I’m afraid I have bad news on both fronts,” he said. “The company is doing very poorly at the moment. It might have been the worst possible time to start a security firm because of the pandemic. There’s been almost no work. But worse still, Emma passed away just yesterday from a virus.”
“Oh, no!” Michael said. “Oh, I’m so very sorry. That’s terrible news. Was it Covid-19?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Brian said with a catch in his voice. “It was eastern equine encephalitis.”
“Is that something like West Nile virus?”
“It’s similar,” Brian said. “It’s a different virus, but it is also spread by mosquitoes. We think she got it when we had a beach barbecue on Cape Cod.”
“Such a tragedy, such a loss! She was an exceptional woman. When are the services scheduled, so we can send a delegation, myself included?”
“Services and funeral are tomorrow. Thank you for your offer to attend, but due to the pandemic, it’s only going to involve immediate family.”
“Understood,” Michael said regretfully. “Well, you have my most sincere condolences to you and your whole family.”
“Thank you, sir. There is something else I want to discuss with you. With my wife gone, I’m questioning my interest in continuing with our struggling company, especially with the pandemic and no end in sight. What I wanted to inquire is whether you might look kindly on me reversing my retirement and rejoining the ESU.” Brian found himself superstitiously crossing his fingers, hoping for an affirmative reply even though he’d not yet completely given up on Personal Protection LLC.
“It depends on your level of commitment,” Michael began. “With your indirect question, it sounds to me as if you haven’t quite made up your mind, which is understandable since it’s so soon after your wife’s passing. Let me say this: With all your training, the city has a significant investment in you, and that’s definitely to your advantage. But to give you a second chance here at the ESU, I’d want to be convinced you are one-hundred-percent committed to returning before I give the green light. To be perfectly honest, both your and your wife’s sudden resignation had a negative effect on morale for a time since both of you were highly respected around here.”
“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “That certainly wasn’t our intention.”
“Here’s what I recommend. When you are up to it, come out here to headquarters and meet with me and then spend some quality time participating in some of our activities. Because of the pandemic, there wasn’t a new class of cadets this spring. Instead we’ve ramped up refresher and recertification activities for the entire ESU force, particularly in the TAC House and SCUBA unit. Does that sound appealing to you?”
“Very appealing,” he agreed. “I’d love it and the sooner the better as far as I am concerned.”
“Well, I’ll leave that up to you and your family. I’m sure you need some time to adjust and mourn your wife.”
“On the contrary,” Brian said. “I need to keep busy. I would like nothing better than to get back into fighting shape and run recertification drills. It would actually help me cope.”
“Okay, then,” Michael said. “Without a new class of cadets, currently my calendar is flexible although all that will soon change. Next month there will be a new, small class despite the pandemic.”
“Would as soon as tomorrow afternoon be possible for me to stop by and see you, say around three?” Brian asked. “I’d even like to participate in any drills if possible.” The idea of experiencing simulated assaults in the TAC House had enormous appeal, as did any type of special weapons exercise. He had not practiced once with any firearm since December, not even with his omnipresent P365 Sig Sauer automatic, which he could currently feel pressing against the small of his back.
“I’m sure I can find the time. I’ll also spread the word with the instructor team. It’s good timing. I know there is going to be a sizable group in the TAC House tomorrow, including some officers from the A team. You can at least observe initially. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you.”
“Likewise,” Brian said. When he had been an ESU member back before his retirement, he’d often spend his days off at the ESU Academy at Floyd Bennett Field helping the instructors with the cadets and even participating, as it helped to hone his skills and maintain his recertification requirements.
“And if you change your mind tomorrow after the funeral I’ll understand,” Michael said. “Just let me know, and I can let the others know.”
“Of course.”
After appropriate goodbyes, Brian disconnected the call and stared ahead for a moment with unseeing eyes. The idea of intense physical activity gave him a modicum of relief from the emotional devastation of Emma’s passing as well as his ongoing concern about Juliette’s adjustment to losing her mother. Unfortunately, it didn’t last, since the memory of needing to call Roger Dalton intervened.
With his phone still in his hand, he placed the call. As it went through, he again wondered if it was going to have something to do with Patrick McCarthy and Megan Doyle needing a full printout of the hospital bill. From what Megan had said, he expected the hospital to attempt to drag its feet.
“I thought you should know
that the value of the suit brought against you by Premier Collections might soon be raised by $26,399.46,” Roger stated as soon as he came on the call. “Unless, of course, something miraculous happens.”
With some difficulty Brian held himself in check. He was offended by Roger’s derisive attitude, and had he been there in his office, he might have been hard put not to intimidate the skinny bastard in some physical way. In Brian’s mind he’d been fully exposed as the irritating front man for the profit-crazy Charles Kelley.
“Did you hear me?” Roger demanded when Brian didn’t respond.
“I did, but I was waiting for you to tell me what this additional twenty-six-some-odd-thousand represents?”
“It’s the latest ED charges for Emma Murphy,” Roger said. “As if you couldn’t guess.”
“Is this for yesterday?” he asked with surprise, even disbelief, at the speed involved in the billing.
“Yes, it is for yesterday,” Roger said. “Since you are already significantly delinquent, the hospital doesn’t have high hopes for payment. What people like you don’t understand is that our considerable expenses mount second by second, day by day, and we don’t have the luxury of avoiding paying them as soon as they are due.”
“Go ahead and submit the bill to Peerless,” Brian ordered as he was about to discontinue the call. He was growing to seriously dislike the man. It was as if the bureaucrat was deriving sadistic pleasure out of pushing the knife MMH Inwood had sticking in him a little bit deeper.
“I already submitted it,” Roger spat. “You and your health insurance deserve each other. They got back to me within the hour to inform me that once again they would not be covering.”