The Daughter She Used To Be

by Rosalind Noonan

  “Actually, I was thinking that a terrible thing happened today and you didn’t respond when this family needed you most.”

  “I know, I know, babe, and I feel awful about that.”

  “Stop lying to me.” She placed her tea on the kitchen island and met his eyes. “You were off with some woman. That’s why your cell phone was turned off. That’s why I couldn’t reach you.”

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  She remembered Granny Mary’s remark: I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. “The truth? I really can’t trust you anymore.”

  “Now, Mary Kate, you’re overreacting.”

  “I don’t think so.” She steeled herself, her palms pressing on the countertop for strength. “I’ve always loved you, and I wanted to think you loved me. That’s why I fell for the stories. The overtime, the trips with the guys. The excuse that you couldn’t get time off for our trip to Disney World. So I took the kids on my own, and when we got home, you know what I found? The house was empty and the shower and sinks were bone-dry. You didn’t think I noticed, all those years ago, did you? You didn’t realize I was putting two and two together. But I was. I just didn’t say anything because I was starting to learn that I couldn’t trust you.”

  “Really.” He squinted at her. Such a menacing look, but she wasn’t going to take him seriously. She’d seen this posturing for years. “So it’s all about you, huh? Four cops down, and we’re supposed to talk about your problems?”

  She shrugged. “Sorry if that’s inconvenient for you, Tony, but it’s been a long time coming. I think I’ve been a good wife, except I probably should have spoken up years ago.” She had kept it together for the kids; she realized that now. But seeing Conner today, his initiative and his kindness, she realized that he would do okay even if his parents were living apart. In many ways, he’d been doing without his father for a long time. “I just can’t take it anymore.”

  “Babe. Really? You’re pulling the plug when I’ve just had the worst day of my life?”

  “Tell me, how was your day so bad? So ... so exclusively bad that no one else could feel your pain?”

  “I lost two of my brothers today, and there are two in the hospital fighting for their lives.”

  She could have let him know that it was worse than he thought, that Sean Walters had passed, too, but she didn’t think he deserved to have that inside information.

  “Oh, please.” She lowered her voice, deadly calm now. “I lost my real brother today, Tony. My brother. And when it went down I dropped everything and went over to the house to be with my family, because that’s what families do.”

  “Yeah? Well, some of us have jobs.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, so self-righteous.

  “I work, too, you know.” A year ago she had started working as a receptionist and bookkeeper for their dentist, Dr. Parsons.

  “Sure you do. What do you take in a year? Gross income, honey? Is it enough to pay groceries, let alone the mortgage?” His pursed mouth was petulant.

  His pettiness saved her from feeling defensive at all. Instead, she saw him through a new lens ... and it was not a pretty sight. How had she looked beyond the lies and the attitude for all these years? “Wow, I’ve really had my head in the sand.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted.

  She blinked, then picked up her teacup and added some more hot water. “I’m going to take this upstairs. When I come back down, you’re going to be gone.”

  “Where am I supposed to go?” he asked, his arms flying into the air with rage.

  “That’s up to you.” She headed toward the stairs, her feet sure on the fake oriental runner that she’d searched all over Long Island to find. At the time it seemed so important to find the vivid cornflower blue background she wanted. Now? It really wouldn’t have mattered if it were brown or black or navy blue.

  And maybe that was liberating.

  Yes. It was liberating.

  Chapter 24

  “I’m Maureen, the night nurse.”

  Indigo nodded, opening her mouth for the thermometer. As the woman with a confident demeanor and a brightly colored smock took her pulse, Indigo wondered how long she’d been out of surgery. Her throat was sore and her tongue felt fuzzy, but her thoughts were taking shape better now, like crystals forming on the glass of a window in familiar patterns.

  The events of the day, which had threatened to overwhelm her just hours ago, now seemed secondary compared to the doctor’s words when she’d regained consciousness.

  “We removed the bullet, relieved the compression on the spine. We’re hopeful that you’ll regain feeling in your legs and walk again. Right now, we have to wait and see. Now you get some rest.”

  Wait and see. Rest and wake up.

  Hospitals were strange places.

  When you needed your rest more than ever, someone was coming ’round every few hours to wake you up and stick a thermometer in your mouth, take your blood pressure and talk about your pain, even when the thing that put you into the hospital had nothing to do with a fever or blood pressure. Even when you weren’t in pain.

  “No fever, and your blood pressure is good. I’ll let you go back to sleep, unless there’s something else you need. Another blanket?”

  “Water?” Indigo touched her neck. “Still sore.”

  “From the breathing tube.” The nurse nodded. “You’re allowed to have clear liquids. I’ll get you a cup with a straw.” She went out to the hall and returned a moment later, talking with someone at the door.

  “So, do you know the cop standing guard outside?” Maureen asked. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “I didn’t even know I was under arrest.”

  “More like protection. You’re a hero, Indigo.” Maureen’s green eyes reminded her of a cat, calm but perceptive as she handed Indigo the cup. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “I do,” Indigo said in her sandpaper voice.

  “There’ll be time to talk about it tomorrow. For now, rest.”

  Which was what I was trying to do when you came in the room, she thought as the nurse checked the monitors, then left. The cold water soothed her throat, but Indigo knew there was no way to address the tenderness that burned in her chest. She was in pain, but it was nothing the doctors could treat. Her heart ached something fierce.

  It ached for the husband who couldn’t find his way back to her. It ached for her little girls, who had come close to losing their mother today. It ached to throw off these crisp white blankets, hop to the ground, and walk the hell out of this hospital.

  Oh, how her heart and soul ached to walk again.

  Indigo reached down to the blankets and pinched one thigh. Nothing ... still nothing. Dear Lord in heaven, there has to be some sensation. Please, please, Almighty Father, bring the gift back to me. Let me walk again.

  What had the doctor said? The first forty-eight hours? Or was it seventy-two?

  I can wait, Lord, but please ... don’t leave me in a wheelchair.

  She didn’t know how she would take care of her girls if she couldn’t walk. How would she stop Zuli from running into the street or play tag with Tasha in the park?

  Tears stung her eyes, and she turned toward the wall and swiped at them with the back of one hand. She had to walk again. Damn it, she owed that much to Brendan and Kevin, who would not have another chance to chase their kids or kiss them good night.

  Soft footsteps from the hall stopped at her doorway.

  That was the other weird thing about hospitals. People just breezed into your room, into your private space, without any warning.

  She rubbed her eyes and turned toward the door.

  “Hey, Indie.” He stood there in his old jeans and battered jacket, the black plastic-framed glasses that he’d worn long before they were in fashion, and the suede, rubber-soled shoes he called Hush Puppies.

  She had never seen a more beautiful sight in her life.

  “Elijah.” She sni
ffed back tears, staring. “You came to see me.”

  Or was she imagining him? She hadn’t seen her husband for more than a month, and it didn’t make sense for him to be here. After all, he’d been living in Philadelphia for the past year, kowtowing to his father, who refused to acknowledge that Elijah had a family of his own here in New York.

  “I’ve been waiting downstairs all day, ever since they took you into surgery.” He came closer, slid a hand over the bare part of her arm. That touch ... yes, he was really here.

  She knew it was after midnight. “Isn’t it a little late for visiting hours?”

  “I’m family,” he said. “But I got to say, it’s not easy to get to you. Did you know they got a cop outside your door? A big man, with a big gun.”

  She shook her head. Elijah never had liked much about police work. The guard was posted ... why? Her thoughts were still clouded.

  Because the perp is on the loose.

  Because he killed your partner. He killed three cops. Almost four.

  She put that knowledge to the back of her mind, tamped it down and locked it in.

  Elijah cocked his head to the side, that subtle gesture that hinted of humor. “You don’t think it’s weird to have a man with a gun hanging out in a hospital where they’re trying to heal people who get hurt by guns?”

  Indigo gave her husband the pat answer. “It’s one of the perks of the job.”

  “You couldn’t go for a job that had a vacation in Europe as a perk? Car service? Educational incentive plan?”

  She shook her head.

  “So how you feeling? I got here as fast as I could.”

  “And you’ve been waiting all this time?”

  “They let me see you in recovery, but you were still out of it. I set up my laptop in the cafeteria and the nurse texted me with updates.” He shifted back, touching the bar at the side of her bed as if testing its temperature. “Are you in pain?”

  “No. But pain might be an improvement. ’Lijah, I can’t feel my legs. What if I’m paralyzed?” A sob broke in her throat, along with a new wave of tears. Not at all the way she’d planned to greet her husband, who had been missing for weeks, but control was no longer an option.

  “I know. I know, Indie.” He frowned, squeezing her arm. “You’ve got good doctors, though. I checked them out online and they’re solid. Besides, they told me you have a chance of beating this thing. If I know you, you’ll be up, dancing circles around all of us tomorrow.”

  She sobbed again. She could picture that. Yeah, she could see herself doing some moves for the hospital staff. That was the way she had to keep thinking. Stay positive. Believe that it could happen.

  “You’re right.” She sniffed and took two tissues from the box he handed her. “I have to focus on the goal. I need to see it right here.” She pressed two fingers to the space between her eyes. “I need to see it happening, and then I need to keep praying on it.”

  “You keep doing that. And I’ll keep leaning on the doctors to make sure they’re doing everything you need to have done. One of the guys on the team looks like he just got back from surfing in the Fiji Islands. Doctor Dude.”

  She smiled. “Elijah. I’m glad you’re here, but it’s bittersweet, you know that. I’ve got a disappointment coming. It’s never fun to wake up in the morning and find you gone.”

  He looked away. “I know, baby. But this will be different. I can’t let you and the girls fall down like this.”

  “Have you seen them?”

  “Not yet, but we talked on the phone. They’re at your mother’s and, you know, I was staying here, to be here for you.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned over her, so close she could see the curls of hair on the side of his face, where he hadn’t been able to shave that day. “I know we got issues. I know. But right now, let’s just be happy and grateful we’re both here. Grateful to be alive. You had a close call, and it makes a man wonder. Anything could happen, baby.”

  He leaned close and pressed his lips against hers, and Indigo closed her eyes and gave herself to the kiss.

  “You are such a geek.”

  “Yeah. But I’m your geek.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that.

  When she awoke in the morning feeling like her lower half was a sack of dead fish, she let out a moan.

  Please, Lord, she begged, holding the prayer in her heart like a mantra.

  The session with the detectives was exhausting. They were kind and sympathetic, but there was no tiptoeing around the facts, no way to avoid the details of the slaughter. She was glad when the doctor told them it was time to wrap it up.

  For some reason the nurse was on to her to eat her delicious clear liquid diet, and she sipped coffee and sucked on Jell-O, wondering if this would be it for the rest of her life.

  At least you have a life, girl.

  She still couldn’t believe what they’d told her about the guys. Brendan and Kevin and Sean.

  There was a knock on the door, and the cop on duty at the door, a female named O’Conner, asked if she was cool with a special visitor. “I’m only supposed to let family in, but I got Bernie Sullivan here.” Her eyes softened. “Brendan’s sister?”

  “Please, let her come in.”

  A moment later, Bernie appeared, her hair a wild cloud around her head, her shiny glasses masking her eyes. “Indigo.” Bernie came right up close, gripped Indigo’s unfettered hand, and placed a big fat kiss on it. “Oh, my gosh. It’s good to see you.”

  Indigo swallowed over the knot of emotion growing in her throat. “Bernie, what can I say? I’m crushed.”

  Bernie nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “I know. It’s rough.”

  They remained like that a moment, huddled close, their hands bound. Indigo felt their thoughts weaving, binding, and meandering as details of the incident swirled around them.

  “And how about you?” Bernie asked. “What does the doctor say?”

  “There’s a chance I’ll get the feeling back in my legs. Bernie, I need to walk again. I got my girls to take care of.”

  “Yes, you do. We’re all pulling for you. I’ll have Mary Kate put the word out to her friends from church. They get together to do novenas.”

  “What the hell’s that?”

  “Lots of prayers. It’s a Catholic thing. And anything else we can do for you, just ask. I know Gracie wants to hang out with Tasha as soon as all this blows over. How are your girls? Have you seen them since it happened?”

  “Not yet. Tasha is freaked out, but I think she’ll feel better when she can see that I’m the same old mean mom.”

  Bernie leaned back slightly, still perched on the edge of the hospital bed. “Have you talked to a counselor here?”

  Indigo squinted. “You think I need a shrink?”

  “After something like this, we all do. I just think it would help to talk. I saw the coffee shop just after it happened, and I’m having trouble cycling through the images in my head.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Indigo sighed. “The shooter’s face, it keeps haunting me. His eyes, not the psycho eyes you’d expect, but sad and lost. Like a kid who had his bike stolen from him.”

  Bernie bit her lower lip, listening intently.

  “He talked to me. Came right up to me.” Indigo stared off. “He had shot me from behind, and while I was squirming on the ground, trying to get my gun out, he came over and stared right into my face. I think he was going to finish me off with a second shot. He was a little freaked out when he realized I was black. He actually apologized for shooting me, said he never meant to take a sister down. It was the color of my hair that threw him. He said, no black woman has hair like that. And then he walked away. I was bracing to take a bullet, but he walked away.”

  “Oh, man.” Bernie pressed a hand to her mouth.

  “Right. The Queens DA’s going to have a field day with that. But the creepy part is that it made him human. I mean, I hate him for what he did to us. I want to think that he’s a sa
vage beast. An animal. But for that one moment, in his sick way, he seemed ... tender.”

  “Wow. So I was right about you talking to someone. This is some difficult stuff to weed through.”

  “I’m talking to you now.”

  “I’m not a trained therapist,” Bernie said.

  “You went to law school ... close enough.” Indigo shivered, wishing she could shake off the image of the shooter. His wide forehead, his mouth drooping on one side, his lost eyes. “I don’t feel bad about shooting at him, though. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I just wish I’d gotten a shot in at closer range, but my gun was stuck, holstered under ninety pounds of useless legs.”

  Bernie tilted her head. “I’m going to forget you said that. Those legs are going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. And from what I hear, you hit the gunman.”

  “I heard him let out a yelp, but he moved out of my line of vision.”

  “Sounds like you got him,” Bernie said. “Some witnesses saw a black male matching his description stumbling down the street. My dad almost ran into him. He was holding his arm, walking unsteadily.”

  Indigo closed her eyes. “I still can’t believe he spared me. Please, God, don’t let him hurt anyone else.”

  “If he got shot, he’ll turn up sooner or later. You shot him, Indigo. You’re a New York hero.”

  Indigo shook her head. “I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be alive for my kids. Alive and walking.”

  Chapter 25

  Grief was excruciating and delicate, like a cloth woven of spun sugar. One glimmer of a memory, a certain familiar smell or mannerism, and the fabric was rent and disintegrating into dust.

  With the images of exploding gunfire and her brother’s face still looping through her mind, Bernie was afraid to be alone. She spent the first two nights at Sarah’s house, sleeping on the living room sofa. It was all under the guise of being there to help Sarah with the girls. Bernie’s haunted heart was her dirty little secret.