Chain Reactions

by Lynn Ames

  “I guess that depends. What’s the topic?”

  “Your past.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I thought we already covered that.”

  “I’m confident we barely scratched the surface.”

  “I don’t think I have the strength to rehash an entire century.” She covered Diana’s hand with hers. “I wish we had more time too, dear. You must feel as though you’ve been robbed. It’s so unfair to give you such a narrow window. That’s my fault and again, I apologize.”

  “Seems to me the blame lies with Grandpa Bill and my parents,” Diana said.

  “Is that what you want to discuss? Do you still have unanswered questions?”

  “About why you left? No, it’s nothing like that. I want to talk about things that happened long before I was born.”

  She began to feel uneasy.

  “I came across some documents in the archives at Columbia. They had your name in them.”

  Now her heart skipped a beat as her mind scrolled through myriad possibilities of what Diana had uncovered.

  Diana fished her phone out, searched for something, and then held the screen so that Nora could see it. “According to this employee roster, you worked as a supervising scientist at Oak Ridge during World War II. You were in charge of the uranium enrichment effort.”

  She closed her eyes as the memories came flooding back—the sucking sound of her boots being swallowed by the ever-present mud, the bustle of the girls heading to the plant in time for their shifts, the rows upon rows of Calutron machines, the endless calculations and adjustments, and the hum of activity in town on a Saturday night.

  “Aunt Nora?”

  She opened her eyes. “Technically, the town was called Clinton Engineer Works back then. It didn’t become Oak Ridge until after the war.”

  “So, this is accurate? You were there?”

  She sighed heavily. “I was.”

  “You oversaw the production of the fuel for the atomic bomb?”

  “No. I supervised the girls who operated the Calutron machines that separated the isotopes.” At Diana’s blank look, she added, “It was my job to make sure the girls kept the needles on the meters exactly where they needed to be in order to ensure maximum fuel production.”

  “You were a woman.”

  She smiled wanly. “An apt observation.”

  “In a supervisory position in the 1940s. A physicist who played a major role in ending the war.”

  “I did my job. We all did. They wanted the girls to be supervised by a woman. They thought it would help with morale and communication.”

  “You won the war for us.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, and she fought to tamp down the shame and regret that threatened to drown her. “I was responsible for the deaths of more than one-hundred-thousand people, Diana. Please don’t romanticize it. I spent the next thirty years of my career trying to make amends.”

  Diana took her hand. “You didn’t make the decision to drop the bomb, the president did.”

  “What I did—what I had the girls do—made that possible. I’ve had to live with that all these years, and so have they,” she added quietly. “Some of them never forgave me.” Her voice broke. “I haven’t forgiven myself.”

  “Breathe, Aunt Nora. Please, slow down and breathe.”

  She saw the panicked look on Diana’s face. She struggled to take in air.

  “Brooke! Brooke, help!”

  The panic in Diana’s voice broke Nora’s heart.

  “Nora? Nora? It’s Brooke. Can you hear me? I’m going to give you some medicine. Nora? That’s it. Take it easy. I’m going to lay you back now. Focus on a breath. That’s it.”

  “I did this. I upset her.” Nora heard Diana’s strangled lament. “I never should’ve pushed her for answers.”

  “Shh. It’s okay, Diana. You didn’t do anything wrong. Talk to her. She can hear you.”

  “But she’s in so much pain.”

  “The meds will kick in soon. Talk to her. Tell her what you want her to know. Tell her how you feel.”

  “Aunt Nora? Aunt Nora, it’s Diana. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re my hero, Aunt Nora. You always were, and you’re more so now. I love you. Please, please forgive me. Please forgive me.”

  Nora felt the pressure of Diana’s cheek against her hand. With effort, she lifted that hand to caress her great-niece’s face. “I…” She injected more force into her voice. “I forgive you, dear. There’s nothing to forgive. I love you, Diana. Always in your heart. Remember…”

  A tremendous pain split her chest in two and she gasped, her eyes flying open. As they did, she saw Diana standing over her. Brooke’s arm was wrapped around her, holding her protectively.

  Nora smiled as light filled her and the pain receded, replaced by a joy unlike any she had ever known. It was time to go.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Diana stared unseeing out the kitchen window. She could hear Brooke and the hospice nurse talking in low tones in Aunt Nora’s bedroom as they waited for the funeral home to finish securing the body and readying it for transport.

  In the end, everything had unfolded so quickly. One second Aunt Nora was alert and answering her questions, and the next, she was…gone. She closed her hands and balled them into fists to keep them from shaking. She’d never watched someone die before.

  Dead. Aunt Nora was dead. The idea of it left a gaping hole in her heart. Strange. She’d spent most of her life believing Aunt Nora was dead. Why was it so different now?

  The answer was quite easy, really. Before, she had held a child’s distant memory of a favorite relative. Now… Now Aunt Nora was alive in her heart and mind and still larger-than-life. There was Aunt Nora hunched over a crossword puzzle, pen tapping rhythmically against her chin, eyes filled with intelligence and life. And there was Aunt Nora, her posture regal even at one hundred, imparting wisdom about love and giving her dating advice.

  Beyond all that, now Diana had a more detailed picture of her great-aunt. She was a glass-ceiling-breaking war hero, a champion of children with leukemia, a dedicated research scientist, an accidental lesbian activist, and a captivating lecturer. More importantly, she was a loving great-aunt.

  “How are you doing?” Brooke came up alongside her, close enough to touch, although she refrained from doing so.

  She shrugged. “What happens now?”

  “Nora pre-arranged and pre-paid for everything. The funeral home will take care of the cremation and call you when her ashes are ready to be picked up.”

  “Oh.”

  “I called Daniel. He’ll sign the death certificate electronically.”

  She nodded dumbly. She was having trouble holding on to details.

  “Maybe you should call Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “Who?”

  “Nora’s attorney. I imagine she gave him all of the pertinent information and instructions.”

  “That makes sense.” She checked her watch and was shocked to see that it was only a little after six. It felt more like midnight. “He’s probably eating dinner.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the interruption under the circumstances.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you like me to do that for you?”

  “No. I’ll take care of it.” She pulled out her phone. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Of course.”

  She placed the call, surprised when Mr. Fitzgerald answered on the first ring.

  “Hello, Dr. Lindstrom.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Fitzgerald.” Her voice cracked. “It’s…” She paused to gather herself. “Aunt Nora is…”

  Brooke took hold of her free hand and squeezed it gently. “It’s okay,” she mouthed silently.

  “Aunt Nora passed away a little while ago.”

  There was a pause on the line. “I see. I’m very sorry for your loss, Dr. Lindstrom.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss too.”

  “Thank
you. They broke the mold when they made our Nora.”

  She smiled through her tears. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  “Are you all right? Do you have someone with you?”

  “Brooke is here.” She squeezed her hand in return and then broke contact.

  “Good.”

  “Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “Charles, please.”

  “Charles? I’m not sure what to do next. Is there something I should be doing?”

  “The only thing you need to focus on right now is you. Your Aunt Nora was well prepared for this day. She left very clear, very specific wishes and instructions.”

  “That’s what I mean—”

  “All of which I will share with you, but not tonight. Tonight, you rest and take care of yourself. How about if I stop by tomorrow morning, say, around ten o’clock, would that be all right with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll bring Nora’s instructions with me, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Dr. Lindstrom?”

  “Diana.”

  “Diana? It would be helpful if Ms. Sheldon was present tomorrow.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Hold on, I’ll ask her if she’s available.” She held the phone to her chest. “Can you be here to meet with me and Mr. Fitz—um, Charles—tomorrow morning at ten?”

  Brooke nodded. “Anything you need.”

  She put the phone back to her ear. “Okay. She’ll be here.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. See you in the morning.” She ended the call and faced Brooke. “Thanks for agreeing to that. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  Brooke shook her head. “Actually, there’s no place I’d rather be than wherever you are. I’m here for you, Diana.”

  Diana knew that she meant it. “What now?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.” She couldn’t even think about food.

  “Tired?”

  “Physically? Or emotionally?”

  “Yes,” Brooke answered.

  “Fair enough. I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I could close my eyes.”

  “Feel like going for a walk?”

  She glanced out the window. “It’s dark outside.”

  “Ever practical, Dr. Lindstrom. You do know they have this invention called the flashlight?”

  “I’d heard tell of such a thing, but I’ve never seen one in action.” She appreciated Brooke’s effort to distract her with levity.

  “They even include it as an accessory on your phone.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Would you like me to show you?”

  “Should we turn the lights out?”

  “No,” Brooke threaded her arm through Diana’s, “I think we should take this experiment outside.” She led them to the coat closet and grabbed their jackets.

  “Where should we go?”

  “I was thinking a walk on the beach would do you good.”

  “Should we check the tide?”

  “The tide is out and so is the moon. I found a flashlight in the drawer the other day when I was looking for a can opener. We’ll be fine.”

  “I thought you were going to demonstrate the flashlight feature on the phone?”

  “I can if you want, but I’m thinking the beam from an actual flashlight might be brighter.” Brooke nabbed the flashlight out of the drawer as she pulled on her coat.

  They meandered along the shore for several minutes in silence. Brooke was right—the moon shone brightly in the night sky, and the beam from the flashlight added more than enough illumination to light their way.

  Aunt Nora would’ve loved a night like tonight. The thought sent a searing pain straight to her heart. She gasped and pulled up short.

  “What’s the matter?” Brooke backtracked to her.

  “I-I was just thinking…” She put her hand to her mouth as a sob broke free. “It’s such a beautiful night. Aunt Nora would’ve loved to take a walk on the beach on a night like this.” Tears flowed freely now, and she was powerless to stop them.

  Brooke enveloped her in a warm hug. “That’s right. Let it all go. That’s right.” She rubbed soothing circles on her back. Eventually, she kissed her on the top of the head.

  Diana leaned into the embrace, soaking in the comfort. Finally, her tears subsided and she pulled back. “I’m so sorry. I got you all soggy.” She wiped ineffectually at the wet spot on Brooke’s jacket.

  “That’s okay. It’ll dry.” She withdrew a packet of tissues from her side pocket and handed one to Diana.

  “Thank you.”

  Brooke shrugged.

  “No, I mean it.” She searched Brooke’s face. “You loved Aunt Nora as much as I did. You knew her better than I did. You spent every day caring for her, seeing to her every need. And yet, you put aside your own grief in order to take care of me. I don’t know how you’re even standing right now.”

  Unable to hold back any longer, she reached up and moved an errant strand of hair off Brooke’s forehead. Her fingers lingered on the worry lines above Brooke’s brow.

  “You’re amazing,” she whispered. She stepped forward once again, her fingers never losing contact with Brooke’s skin. Slowly, tentatively, she brought their lips together.

  This kiss was gentle, their lips trembling in equal parts grief, desire, and uncertainty. After several seconds, Brooke broke the kiss and cleared her throat. “It’s a really emotional time, and I need you to be sure about what you’re doing, what you want, and why.”

  Diana opened her eyes. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she willed her libido to calm down. “I understand.” She toed the sand with the tip of her boot.

  “Do you?” Brooked asked softly. She shifted so that they were eye to eye. “Nothing’s changed, Diana. I want to explore us. When the time is right.”

  “Agreed.” She was glad the darkness covered her embarrassment. “That was a mistake.”

  “No. It wasn’t a mistake. It was a natural reaction to a highly charged situation. I can’t have you thinking that every time we kiss it’s a mistake.”

  She opened her mouth to apologize again and thought better of it. She fought the urge to shut down. She’d done that once, and it hadn’t gone well for either of them.

  “Diana?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake. It’s a question of timing. This is too important. We’re too important. When this happens—and I really hope it will—I want you to be sure it’s about us, and not about anything, or anyone…else.”

  Brooke was right, of course. Now was not the time. She still was in shock over Aunt Nora’s death, her heart felt as though it had been put through a meat grinder, and neither of them knew what tomorrow would bring.

  “Diana?”

  “Yes?”

  “Say something.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not firing on all cylinders. You’re right. I’m completely shell-shocked and raw. I’m not thinking clearly, and the appropriate thing to do is to process this loss first, and then figure out what’s next.”

  Brooke studied her for long seconds and she squirmed. Unable to stand it anymore, she said, “That look tells me either you don’t believe me, or you don’t trust me.”

  Finally, Brooke spoke. “It’s neither of those things. I’m trying to avoid any confusion or a repeat of the way this past week went between us.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened in the aftermath of our last kiss—that didn’t work for me.”

  “It didn’t work for me, either.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Okay, then.”

  They began walking again. “Just to be clear,” Brooke said, “that doesn’t mean I can’t be there to comfort you.”

  “Agreed. And it doesn’t mean I won’t let you.”

  “Agreed.”

  They continued on to t
he cottage in companionable silence. When they reached the steps leading up to the deck, Diana froze.

  “What is it?” Brooke asked.

  “I don’t think I can stay here tonight.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Going back in there…”

  “I completely understand.” Brooke paused. “Why would you think you’d need to stay here tonight?”

  “Because there’s no reason for you to stay here now that Aunt Nora is gone. I assumed you’d be going back to your place.”

  “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it.” Brooke sat down on the step.

  “I’m sure I can get a room at one of the bed and breakfasts,” Diana said.

  “You’ll do no such thing. You stay at my place. I can stay here as I’ve been doing.”

  The idea didn’t sit well with her. She wasn’t superstitious or afraid of ghosts. That wasn’t it. It was just that, scant hours ago, Brooke helped someone she loved cross over. How would she feel in Brooke’s place?

  She knew the answer. It was the same reason she couldn’t stay at the cottage tonight. “No.”

  “Diana—”

  “No. Not tonight, at least.”

  “Then I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

  She sat down next to Brooke. “What do you suggest?”

  Brooke was silent so long Diana wondered if she would answer. Finally, Brooke said, “There’s an obvious solution, if you’re okay with it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We could stay together at my place.”

  Brooke’s suggestion hung in the air between them. “Or not,” she added, as she rose and trudged slowly up the stairs.

  “No. Wait.” Diana put a hand on her arm. “There’s only one bedroom.”

  “I know.”

  “But…”

  “I’m not talking about making love, Diana. There’s a couch in the living room. I’m suggesting that I’d sleep on the couch.”

  “It’s your place and your bedroom. You should take the bed.”

  “No. I’m not the one who’s been staying there, you are. Please don’t fight with me on this. We’re both tired and emotional right now. The couch is plenty comfortable. Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time I fell asleep there.”

  She weighed her options. If she continued to object, no doubt Brooke would insist on staying at the cottage. That was even less preferable than her bunking on the couch.