“Oh, dear.” Peg pressed a hand to her heart. “And we thought he was in the clear. We were hoping and praying ...” Peg turned away from Bernie and sank onto a kitchen chair. “Yes, it is God’s will, but sometimes I don’t understand it at all. Of course. I’ll tell them. Okay, sweetie. Bye.”
Peg was pensive as she hung up and nodded toward the living room. Cold with dread, Bernie stood behind her mother in the doorway.
“That was Sully on the phone with some sad news. Sean Walters is gone, too. The doctors found no sign of brain activity, and so his family took him off life support. God rest his soul.” She made the sign of the cross, and Mary Kate and James repeated the gesture.
Bernie gripped the door frame as if it were the only thing that could hold her up on this spinning carousel. With the level of medical care Sean and Indigo were receiving, the best doctors and nurses and techs, she had been sure that they would both pull through.
But now Sean ... she searched for a mental picture of Sean Walters. A big man, gregarious and generous. He’d been at the house one day when Grace was selling Girl Scout cookies, and he’d bought a case. Sean was married, but she’d never met his wife, didn’t know about kids.
“Look at the time!” Peg switched gears, galvanized for her grandchildren. “I’ve got to get going and pick up Maisey and Grace. James, there’s more firewood out back beside the garage. And Conner, why don’t you come with me? I’m eager to see some of those mad driving skills I’ve been hearing about.”
“Sure, Nana.” Conner followed Peg out, and the house, the home of her heart, went cold and silent. Bernie couldn’t stop shivering. Maybe it was all setting in—the shock, the grief, the lack of sleep.
Peg had left the front closet open, and now Bernie ducked into the closet and found a lined fleece jacket that belonged to her mother. She slipped it on and headed down the hallway to the back rooms, planning to pile on a few blankets and close her eyes for a few minutes.
The door was cracked open. “Knock, knock.” Bernie pushed it open to find Sarah sitting on one of the twin beds, hugging herself. The shades were drawn against the waning afternoon light, and the room was dim, lit by a night-light that glowed in ever-changing colors.
“Hey, that’s my bed.” Bernie bounced down beside her sister-in-law, who gave her a sidelong look.
“You can have it. It sinks in the middle.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Mom has replaced the mattresses since Bush was in office. George H.” She glanced across at the gray lit window. Bernie still had dreams set in this room, as if she were still a kid and her father appeared beyond that window, her hero, her rescuer. It was as if her subconscious still hadn’t grown up and realized that you could only rescue yourself.
She slid an arm around Sarah. “You know, you can lean on me. Use me. I’m happy to take the girls whenever you need a break. Gracie can come for sleepovers, and I can stay at your place if you want. I have no hobbies and no love life, so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. I’m yours.”
Sarah sniffed; then she put her arms around Bernie. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.” Her voice was level, but her body was quivering. Then, she began to sob.
The ache was thick in her throat as Bernie took Sarah in her arms and squeezed tight against the memories. How she ached to hear him tease Grace about saying grace just one more time. She needed his sanity to help navigate their crazy family, but no, he was gone and she was left to deal with zombies staring at the television as if New York 1 would deliver the meaning of life in their next report.
Don’t take them too seriously, he would say. Ma equates food with love. The others just came for the free beer.
She would smack his shoulder if he were here.
Sarah pressed a fist to her mouth. “How am I going to tell the girls?”
You tell them the truth. Brendan’s voice was calm, billowing in like a summer breeze. As much as they can take.
“You’ll find a way,” Bernie said, swiping a tear from her cheek as she slid into the river of memories, deep and heavy with longing. She could see that giddy grin on Brendan’s freckled face after he’d successfully split a Popsicle on the edge of the front stoop. The Popsicle was cherry, sweet and cold and mixed with the dust of the playground as he taught her how to bat a ball. She could smell the sun on new-cut grass as they romped on the front lawn. She heard his voice, comforting as a familiar old robe, telling her, Calm down, Peanut. It’ll be fine.
And there he was on the majestic steps of the auditorium at Columbia University. He cut through the awkwardness of Sully and Peg and literally danced up the stairs to congratulate her. You did it! I’m going to have to polish up my lawyer jokes now. She worried that their father had seemed awkward, and he got it. You know he’s proud of you, Peanut. He just can’t say the words. He never could.
When memories ran so rich and vivid, did they cease being memories and transform into the fiber of your being?
Bernie squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to hold on to him in the past so that she could carry a part of him into the bleak future.
Sometimes you just got to keep on keeping on. His voice was solid and clear, but would it remain that way?
You’ll get sick of hearing from me, he said.
She shook her head vigorously, wanting to hold on, wanting to hear his voice forever.
Chapter 23
“What are you having to eat, Miss Maisey?” Mary Kate held a plate aloft over the buffet spread. “Chicken drumstick? Baked ziti? Nana makes delicious baked ziti ...”
“Or you can have chicken!” Conner said, tickling her waist.
“Drumstick, drumstick!” Maisey said, playfully slapping away Conner’s hands.
“Come on. I’ll sit with you at the table.” Conner grabbed a plate. “In fact, I’ll have some chicken, too.”
“All right.” Mary Kate set the plate down and lifted her niece onto the chair. She was so proud of the way her son had engaged his young cousin. Conner wasn’t always comfortable here at the house, but he’d really stepped up. “Milk, juice, or water?”
Maisey lifted her chin. “Soda?”
“Juice it is.” Mary Kate ducked into the kitchen, where Bernie and Grace were sitting with plates of ziti and an open jar of capers, one of Gracie’s favorite things to eat.
“I’m going to pray for a miracle, and you can help me, Aunt Bernie,” Grace said, holding her glass with both hands.
Mary Kate moved quietly, not wanting to interrupt the intense conversation.
“You’re named after St. Bernadette in Nana’s movie, right?” Grace asked.
Oh, not that old pearl, Mary Kate thought as she plunked the juice back into the fridge. Peggy had always been in love with The Song of Bernadette, a film from the fifties, and she’d managed to make all her grandchildren sit through it with her.
“I was named after the saint.” Bernie chased a few tubes of pasta with a fork. “But it doesn’t mean I have any saintly powers like a superhero.”
Mary Kate quickly ducked out of the kitchen and served the juice to Maisey, who got up on her knees and stared into it. “I don’t like orange juice. It has furry things inside.”
Conner laughed. “No fur, squirt. That’s pulp.”
Maisey’s rosebud lips creased with displeasure. “I don’t like pope.”
“Milk?” Mary Kate asked. When Maisey nodded, she ducked back into the kitchen and picked up on the miracle conversation again.
“I’m going to ask God for a miracle,” Grace said. “I’m going to pray, and pray and pray really hard that he brings Daddy back to us.”
“Wow.” Bernie put her fork down. “We’d all love that.”
As she poured the milk, Mary Kate couldn’t resist butting in. “It would be wonderful, but that’s not how God works, Gracie. Remember, it was a really big deal for God to bring Jesus back from the dead. He didn’t create people for us to live forever. I know it’s hard to take, but that’s just how it is.” She grabbed
the milk, delivered it, and returned to find Grace revamping her plan.
“I still believe in miracles. Can I try it? Sister Catherine says you can tell God anything. Why can’t I ask God to bring Daddy back?”
“You can ask,” Bernie said, shrugging up at Mary Kate. Bernie had a special relationship with Grace, but she lacked real experience with kids.
“Here’s how I see it.” Mary Kate slid into a chair. “God does make miracles happen every day, but he rarely goes against the structure of the world he created. Otherwise, mountains would float into the sky and everyone who died could come back to life, right?”
Gracie licked some capers from the tip of a spoon and nodded. “I guess.”
“And that would be kind of a crazy world, if dead people came back to life and mountains floated,” Bernie said. “Ice cream could grow on trees, and capers could fall from the sky like rain.”
Grace’s brows rose, but she didn’t smile. This was serious business for the kid. “I’d like the caper part. But are you sure? I mean, God can do anything.”
“You can pray,” Bernie said. “It never hurts.”
“We’re all praying for your dad, Gracie.” Mary Kate reached over to move a lock of hair from Grace’s eyes. She’d always thought of Brendan and Sarah’s kids as well behaved, but had never had much personal interaction with them before today.
“Maybe the miracle we can hope for is that God will heal our broken hearts.” Tears shone in Bernie’s dark eyes.
“Now that’s something God can help us with,” Mary Kate said, thinking of her own pain. Tony. On desperate nights, she had uttered a prayer to St. Jude, but she’d never really prayed to God about it. She wasn’t a believer in bringing every little concern to the Big Guy.
Just then there was a knock on the side door, and Mary Kate felt her jaw drop in surprise. Could it be Tony? Wow. Maybe God was listening in on every little detail.
Mary Kate popped out of her seat and went to the door, knowing he’d just push his way in after a minute. The door opened and she smiled in relief ...
At a dark-haired man with exotic eyes.
“Oh. You’re not ... the person I expected.”
“I’m Keesh, Bernie’s friend.” He stuck a hand out. “I think we’ve met before.”
“Right. I’m her sister, Mary Kate.” She smiled as she shook his hand. “Bernie’s right here.”
He stepped into the kitchen, looking like a model in his navy coat and crimson scarf. Men from Mary Kate’s generation didn’t wear scarves, but she’d seen it all with her kids and their friends, from woven hats with braids and tassels on top to loud plaid jackets to slippers and pajama pants for school.
“Hey.” Bernie looked up at him, love in her eyes. “You didn’t have to come.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I was worried about you.”
An odd mix of jealousy and admiration swirled in Mary Kate’s heart. Bernie had found the real thing. Mary Kate had heard that she’d broken up with this guy, but apparently not.
“Is Amy here yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. Grace and I were just having a discussion about miracles,” Bernie said.
“Do you believe in them?” Grace asked him.
He was rubbing his jaw, considering, as Mary Kate backed out. She checked on Maisey, who was having a second drumstick.
“Good job, guys,” she said, putting a hand on Conner’s shoulder. She was so proud of him. Just a few days ago he had refused to come to dinner at his grandparents’ house, and now he was here, taxiing people around and entertaining Maisey, who certainly needed the distraction.
“Why haven’t you come here before?” Maisey asked him.
“Because I had to fly on a spaceship all the way from Mars,” Conner said. “It took, like, thirty million years. Do you know where Mars is?”
Maisey shook her head. “Where’s your spaceship?”
“Right out in the driveway. Want to see it?”
She nodded, and Conner gave her a piggyback ride to the front door.
What a good kid, Mary Kate thought as she dumped dishes in the sink, then swept into the living room. When Conner had failed to make the grade in college, she’d been worried, but seeing him tonight had allayed her fears. He was solid, positive, and kind. He’d find his way.
The seat beside Granny Mary was empty, and Mary Kate sat down and smiled at her grandmother.
“Did you get enough to eat? There’s more chicken and pasta.”
“Not for me.” Granny waved her off. “My boyfriend, Patty, is coming for me soon. He’s taking me out for a steak dinner.”
Mary Kate was about to set her straight, but then didn’t see the point. “That’s nice. He must really be into you if he’s springing for steak.”
“Oh, yeah. I got panache. But maybe you can tell me something, doll.” She grabbed the sleeve of Mary Kate’s sweater. “Why is everyone so sad here?” She pointed across the room to Sarah. “That one doesn’t stop crying.”
Mary Kate faced her grandmother and looked into her watery eyes. “She lost her husband, Granny. Brendan. Your grandson Brendan. He was killed today.”
“Oh, dear!” Mary pressed a hand to her sagging lips. “Brendan. Oh, dear Lord, and he was one of the good ones. I remember when he was yea tall. He used to do chores for candy money. He mowed my lawn for me.”
“That’s right. That was Brendan,” Mary Kate said, relieved that it registered with her grandmother. Granny Mary had her occasional moments of clarity.
“Why did it have to be one of the good ones?” Granny lamented. “It should have been your guy, Tony, not Brendan. Brendan was always such a good boy, but Tony, I never trusted that one.”
Mary Kate felt her jaw drop, but she didn’t even try to contain her surprise at her grandmother’s burst of memory.
The silence in the rest of the room let her know that everyone was watching.
“Yeah? You think Tony can’t be trusted?” said Mary Kate.
“I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I never liked Tony. The man is all polish and no silver.”
“You know, Granny, I have to agree with you. When I married him twenty-two years ago, I thought there was more beneath the surface, but now I’m thinking I was wrong.”
Deb laughed out loud. “Mary, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Actually, I think she does,” Mary Kate said. “I think it’s one of the clearest thoughts Granny’s had in a long time.”
Mary beamed. “That’s what I do.”
“MK, you’re terrible.” James shook it off with a grin.
But Mary Kate was serious. “Do you know I haven’t been able to reach him all day? There’s no accountability.” Noting that Conner and the girls were out of the room, she added, “Some nights he doesn’t come home at all. Sometimes I get a text message saying he’s sleeping at the precinct.” She scowled at James. “How many times have you slept at the precinct?”
James gave a nervous laugh, but didn’t answer.
Mary Kate swung around to Deb. “Has he ever?”
“No. Never.”
“I rest my case. He is so getting kicked out of the house.” Mary Kate folded her arms. “If he ever comes home.”
“Oh, come on now, Mary Kate,” Peg’s voice came from the dining room. “You’d really kick your husband out? Where would he go?”
“Wherever he goes at night. His Bat Cave. His lair. I don’t know and I don’t care anymore. Look, I know my timing sucks, but I can’t live this way anymore. I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands to her face and found that her cheeks were hot to the touch. “I don’t want to take away from Brendan or anything. I just ...” She let out a breath. “It feels really good to be honest about it.”
Feeling as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Mary Kate stood, gathered up two empty mugs, and noticed Sarah watching from the dining room. She put a hand to her heart. “No disrespect intended, Sarah. I just ... it felt really
good to come clean with that.”
“I wish people would stop tiptoeing around me,” Sarah said. “And I respect you more than ever. Just stand your ground, girl. Stand your ground.”
I will, Mary Kate thought as she carried the dishes into the kitchen.
Later, when everyone was getting ready to leave, Mary Kate checked her cell phone from her coat pocket and noticed three missed calls from Tony. Well ... it served him right. Let him decipher events on his own.
When Conner pulled into their driveway, Tony’s car was there.
“Dad’s home.” He turned to his mother. “Where’s he been all day?”
“That’s a good question.”
Tony greeted Conner with a bear hug. He asked how everyone was holding up, and Conner told him about Sarah and the girls and Sully staying at the crime scene all day.
Mary Kate listened as she hung up her coat, slid out of her shoes, then put the kettle on for chamomile tea. Did Tony notice that she wasn’t doting? That she wasn’t asking him if he’d eaten?
Never again.
Conner headed upstairs, and Tony paused in the kitchen door, his face a mask of sympathy. “You must be devastated,” he said in a voice thick with drama.
She wasn’t going to fall for the act. “Where were you all day?”
“I know. Bad day to be out of reach, but it couldn’t be helped. There was this undercover operation, weeks in the planning, and—”
“I called the precinct, Tony. They said you took a vacation day.”
“I ...” He shook his head. “Who did you speak to?”
“Why? So you can go abuse him for letting the wife in on the truth?” She dunked her tea bag, then cradled the mug for warmth. “You’re so tan. I know you didn’t go to the Caribbean in one day. Maybe ... yes. It’s a goggle tan.” She nodded toward the driveway. “I bet that if I checked right now, I’d find skis in your car.”
His lips curved in a peevish smile. The creases at the outer edges of his eyes seemed permanent now, and his hair was limp and dull. From the way it tilted over his forehead, she wondered if he was trying to cover a patch where it was thinning. “Ah, you’re killing me. Okay, you found me out. Yes, I snuck off to Hunter Mountain. With the guys. Not what you’re thinking.”
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