by Kim Pritekel
"I talked to Leo down at the garage," Meredith said conversationally, wiping down the table once again, just to keep busy. Michael glanced at her over his shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. He's real shocked and relieved to hear you're okay. He wants to give you your old job back."
Michael was stunned, slowly turning to face the older woman. "You're kidding,"
"Nope." Meredith smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes increasing ten-fold over the stresses of the past year. Michael had been shocked at just how old she looked when he'd walked through the door earlier that afternoon. "You're our hometown hero, Michael." His mother-in-law walked over to him, placing her hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes. Meredith tried to keep her rising emotions under control, but could tell it was a losing battle. "I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered, followed by a quiet sob. She rested her head against his chest as strong arms enfolded her.
"Me, too. God, me, too."
* * *
Matt was tired. It had been a wonderful trip, but exhausting. The guys, him and his girlfriend, Jessica, had gone fishing over the past five days, catching just about everything the fish god had to offer, and then some. He set down the cooler of iced fish on his counter with a grunt, then headed back toward the garage door to unload his gear from the back of his SUV. He noticed the light on the answering machine was flashing like mad, and wondered who had called him fourteen times.
Dropping his huge duffel and tent bag on the living room carpet, he pushed the play button, jotting down a message from his mother, grinned at the message from Jessica, wondering where he was. He had only been forty-five minutes late picking her up, after all. The next message stopped him cold. It was Reenie, and almost unintelligible. The detective hit rewind, listening again, trying to decipher what was wrong.
"Matt, oh my god! Where are you?! You need to call me right now! Right now, Matt!" BEEP "Matthew, where are you? It's beyond important. Oh my god, call me!" BEEP
Matt hit stop on the making even as he picked up the cordless phone, his insides twisting in concern. He waited impatiently for the line to be picked up, blood going cold at the voice on the other end.
"Hi, Matt. How are you?"
The detective stood silent, rooted to the spot, unsure what to say or do, but knowing that voice anywhere. "Rachel?"
"Yes. It's me."
"What, I don't understand..."
"It's a long story. I'm coming home the day after tomorrow. I'll be flying in with Reenie."
"Okay." Matt ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He wasn't sure what he was feeling; was it relief? Fear? Regret? Guilt? All of the above? One thing he did know- he was in shock.
* * *
Denny walked into the house, instantly looking around, curious of what, if anything had been changed in her absence. Hannah followed close behind, watching her closely, waiting for her reaction, and dreading the conversation she knew they had to have. Denny deserved to know the truth.
The wall to the right, that flanked the stone fireplace, was nearly bare, when once it had been covered with pictures of them, trips they'd taken, or just goofy snapshots taken by friends. The walls had been painted an off-white, when once they were dark green, the woodwork white. They'd contemplated such a bold choice for months, finally Denny bringing home cans of paint one Friday night. The rest of the weekend had been spent bickering over which room would get the treatment.
A couple pieces of the artwork they'd picked out together littered the room, the small copper Buddha sitting on the mantel. The rug under the coffee table was gone, now replaced by a large, and Denny thought, mismatched area rug.
The thing that the brunette noticed the most was that it were as if any trace of her was gone, leaving only a sterile living space with little warmth or personality.
"It hurt too much to keep some things," Hannah said from behind her, voice soft. "I had to make a change, Denny. It was the only way to keep my sanity."
The brunette nodded, though part of her understanding, she couldn't deny that she was hurt, and felt like maybe she wasn't wanted back, didn't belong.
"I uh, I'll be right back." Denny hurried from the room, back out the front door and into the cool, evening air.
Hannah sighed heavily, hugging herself.
Denny sat on the stoop, wrapping her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top. Never had she felt so out of place, certainly in her own home. She felt nervous and unsure, insecurities gripping her in cold fingers of doubt. For a moment she thought about going back inside, feeling bad. She knew Hannah couldn't keep everything as it was, nor would she expect her to, considering she thought Denny dead. But all the same, she was overwhelmed suddenly by the fact of, not only was she back to her life, but it had obviously changed.
She didn't have time to contemplate that thought as the front screen door squeaked as it was opened, softly banging back into place with a whoosh of air. Glancing over, she saw Hannah settling next to her on the stoop.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft. "I guess I just got a little overwhelmed for a moment."
"It's okay. I don't imagine this is easy for you, Denny. I want to try and make this transition as painless as possible for you. What can I do to help? What will make it better?"
"Nothing. I don't know," Denny blew out a breath. "It's all just really surreal. All I could think about was coming home, for the first six months or so, everyday, marking on a tree, thinking that maybe after a few more of these marks, I'd be home. With you." She looked into concerned brown eyes, shrugged. "Somewhere along the way I stopped marking the tree. I never thought I'd be home anyway, so why keep torturing myself?"
"Oh, Denny." Hannah reached out, brushing a long lock of hair out of the brunette's eyes. "Was it bad?"
"No." Denny shook her head. "Just different." They were silent for long moments, neither sure what to say as they listened to the summer sounds. Finally the brunette took a deep breath. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Panic seized Hannah's heart, her eyes growing wide before she got herself under control. Putting a smile on her face and hand on Denny's arm, she shook her head. "Not now, Denny. Let's get you settled home first."
"You sounded pretty serious about it in the airport." Denny wasn't sure why, but her heart was doing double time. "Just tell me, Hannah. I don't need to be handled with kid gloves. I won't shatter." I don't think.
Nodding, Hannah swallowed. "Okay." She felt the need to explain before she told Denny the truth. "When I found out you were dead, it nearly killed me, Denny. I felt like I had lost everything in one fell swoop. I was so goddamn angry with your cousins," she snorted ruefully. "We argued about you going on that trip alone," shaking her head, she stared out into the darkening neighborhood. "Anyway, I didn't know what to do with myself, so I kept living, going to work, coming home, all to do it again the next day. I was dying inside." She met steady blue eyes, trying to read what Denny was thinking, but there just didn't seem to be anything there, or it was being hidden well. Hannah had always been able to read her partner like an open book. "I had to do something, and as the months passed, I realized that being surrounded by you, everything that was you and reminded me of you, was making it worse."
Denny listened, doing her best to keep an open mind, as she'd want Hannah to do the same for her. She nodded in acknowledgement of what was told to her.
Hannah debated whether to tell Denny about Tiffany or not. Deciding she had enough crushing news to deliver, she'd leave that part out. Maybe later she'd tell her. "One Saturday I decided to take anything down that reminded me of you- pictures, trinkets, whatever. I was amazed to find I had filled six boxes. I guess I hadn't realized just how much our physical lives were bound until then. No wonder I saw you everywhere." She snorted. "Hell, I even had to take that god-awful troll out of my car. I couldn't help but remember when you had valiantly won him for me at the fair."
Denny chuckled at the memory.
"Anyway,
there was one thing left, one last bit of you that tortured me, that I couldn't just pretend wasn't there. It was the last thing keeping me from moving on with my life." At the look of hurt on Denny's face, Hannah clarified. "I didn't want to forget you, baby, I could never, ever forget you. But I had to start a new life, without you in it."
"What was it?" Denny asked, her voice hoarse as fear gripped her heart.
Hannah took several calming breaths, trying to think of the best way to say it. "Honey, Denny," she took two cool hands in her own, the researchers almost looking pale in comparison. "I," her voice caught and she had to catch her breath. Forgive me, Denny. "I sold DiRisio's."
Denny's eyes slid closed, her gut turning over. She jumped to her feet, racing back into the house and throwing the toilet seat lid up. Falling to her knees, she grasped the sides of the cool porcelain bowl, waiting for backfire that never came.
"Here," Hannah placed a cool cloth on the back of the brunette's neck, gathering the long, thick strands of hair into a rope down her back. "Breath, baby. Just breath."
Denny tried to do as instructed, but felt her stomach roil again. Instead of throwing up, she began to sob, the sound echoing in the large bowl. Falling over to her rump, she sat against the side of the tub, Hannah kneeling in front of her, her own tears of sorrow washing down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, Denny. I didn't know. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose."
Denny heard the words, and somewhere inside even knew they were true, but couldn't let them penetrate. She buried her face in her hands. The only bit of normalcy was gone. Denny's sobs calmed after many minutes, her senses numbing, head pounding from the emotional roller coaster that had been her first day back in the real world.
"How can I feel so out of place in my own life?" she whispered, not expecting an answer.
"It'll take some time," Hannah responded, reaching out a tentative hand to cup the side of Denny's face. "We've both had a lot of excitement for one day. What say you we go to bed?"
Denny nodded, not entirely sure what she had just agreed to, as she was helped to her feet. She heard more whispered words, Hannah telling her to follow her. Once in the bedroom, Denny's shirt was lifted over her head, her jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, the baggy material sliding down her legs unaided.
"You have got a killer tan," Hannah commented absently, providing a shoulder for Denny to steady herself on as the researcher tugged the jeans off, tossing them aside. "Do these need to be returned?"
"I dunno."
The tee shirt came next, Hannah's gaze roaming across the bared flesh, more toned than she'd ever seen it. She couldn't believe the fact that she was almost able to count her partner's ribs. Deciding the touching a decidedly skittish Denny wasn't a good idea, she instead helped the beautiful brunette to the large four poster bed, their fifth anniversary gift to each other, then undressed herself.
Denny rolled to her side, curling her hands under her chin. She stared into the darkness that was their bedroom as Hannah turned out the light, feeling the mattress shift as the researcher climbed on.
"Is this okay?" Hannah whispered, spooning up behind Denny. In answer, her hand was taken and tucked under the brunette's chin.
* * *
Michael sighed, once against flopping to his back, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable on the mattress. What had once been his most anticipated act once returning home- sleeping on a bed- was turning into a huge disappointment. His body wasn't sure what to make of the softness, his bones leaning to adjust to the hard ground for so long. His mutterings and curses were interrupted by a soft knock at his bedroom door. Raising his head, he stared at the wood, as though suddenly he'd see all the answers to the world unlocked in its grains.
"Daddy?" the door was barely pushed open, a dark shadow against a darker night.
"Yeah, Angel?"
"Can I lay down with you?" the girl asked, squeezing through the small opening she'd made, then softly closing the door behind her. She heard covers ruffling, sheet held up in invitation. Without a sound, she padded over to the bed and climbed on, immediately snuggling against her father.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head, feeling her shake it.
"Not really."
"What's on your mind, Princess? You okay?"
"I'm better than I've ever been." She smiled into the warm scratchiness of her father's neck. She'd never seen him with facial hair before, and wasn't sure she liked it. "I'm so glad you're home. I never truly believed in God until today."
Michael chuckled. "Well, don't tell your grandma that. She'd think we hadn't raised a fine, Christian girl."
Jennifer giggled softly. "Who says I am?" She raised her head to meet a hard gaze and giggled again. "I'm teasing." Lying her head back down, she sighed in contentment, smelling the laundry detergent her grandmother used in the shirt her father had borrowed. He and Alan were close to the same size.
"How is school going?" The mechanic's brows drew. "What grade are you in?"
"I'm a junior."
Michael's eyes slid shut, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed down the grief of missing an entire school year of his only daughter. Jennifer seemed to read his mind. "It's okay, Daddy. It wasn't your fault. I know that. Alan knows that. Even Conrad knows that."
"Why is he so angry?"
"I don't know." The girl shrugged a shoulder, only to have it caressed a moment later. She reveled in her father's affections, always a daddy's girl at heart. "I think he feels you abandoned him in some way. It's irrational, but that's how he feels. It's been awful for grandma and grandpa. He's in trouble all the time, at school and at home. He's just... mean."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow." He didn't want Jennifer to know just how hurt her truly was. When Alan had marched the fourteen year old into the house by the collar of his shirt, Conrad wouldn't say anything to his father, nor pay him any mind.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, honey?"
"What did mom die of?"
"Honey, I don't-"
"Please?" Jennifer raised her head again, meeting her father's troubled gaze. "I need to know. I need to know if she was in pain. Did you get to say goodbye?"
Michael studied the girl's face, then a slow smile spread across his lips. He nodded. "Yeah, honey. We got to say goodbye. She," he cleared his throat. "she died in my arms."
Jennifer laid her head back on his shoulder, feeling better about it, even as she felt tears sting her eyes. She listened to the low rumble of her father's voice as he continued.
"She got a nasty gash on her head. It was just too much for her."
"I wonder if she knows how much she's loved. And missed."
"Oh, she knows, Jenny. She knows."
"Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, little Angel."
PART 15
DARK EYES BLINKED open, then blinked several more times before the light of day shone in through the large window that led out to the fire escape. Mia turned to her back, looking around the tiny, cramped room of her mother. The bed next to her was empty, the covers pulled up neatly. Beyond the closed bedroom door, she could hear humming, and smell the unmistakable scent of Italian sausage frying and coffee brewing. The girl's stomach began to growl, as if on cue.
Gloria was light on her feet, her chest seeming filled to the breaking point with the greatest joy: her little girl was alive! She happily slaved in front of the stove, working back and forth between the sausage, breakfast potatoes and Mia's favorite- pancakes.
She had slept beside her daughter the night before because she was not about to let the girl out of her sight! She woke up every two hours, making sure Mia was actually there, touching her face and hair, before falling back into a restful sleep. The dark-eyed woman wasn't sure what to do as for space now that Lizbeth was in Mia's room. She'd be more than happy to figure it out. Her baby was alive!
"Look at that smile upon your face," Lizbeth Vinzetti teased, walking into the tiny kitchen. Gloria
couldn't help but beam at her grandmother with a nod.
"I've never felt so happy in all my life."
"I am glad for you, child." The older woman placed a gentle kiss to Gloria's cheek and a pat to her arm. She was amazed to see her granddaughter that morning. It looked as though twenty years had melted off her overnight, her dark eyes sparkling and filled with life that had been missing for far too long. The day Mia had disappeared had been the day that a part of Gloria Vinzetti had died along with her. But alas, she was alive and well once more, and Lizbeth's heart no longer feared for her beloved Gloria. "I will move in with your cousin, Joseph," she said absently, uncovering the sausage and looking inside, making sure Gloria wasn't burning the patties.
"What?" Gloria blurted in English, shocked. She continued in Italian. "No, Nonna. Why would you do that?"
"Because you and Mia need time to reconnect, Gloria. She has been gone too long."
"Nonna-"
"Besides," Lizbeth said with a soft smile, placing a dry hand on Gloria's cheek. "There is no room."
"We'll make it work, Nonna. I want you here. I'll worry too much about you if you go back to Milano."
"No, child. You need to focus on Mia now. I am fine."
"Fine with what?" Mia asked, wandering into the kitchen, her stomach making its hunger known more and more with every step she took.
Gloria turned at the sound of the girl's voice, the conversation forgotten as she smiled, big and bright, opening her arms, which Mia quickly stepped into.
"Are you hungry, sweetie?" Gloria asked, nose buried in her daughter's hair. She felt Mia nod, then slowly pulled away, leaving a soft kiss to the girl's forehead. She began to serve up food as Mia gave her great-grandmother an equally warm hug. "Did you sleep well?" Gloria asked, handing Mia a plate, filled with every delight the girl could want. Her eyes got huge as she headed over to the small table tucked into the corner.