I turned away and smiled, hoping he’d vastly underestimated the time he and his guests would be gone.
I grabbed my keys from the breakfast bar, locked the door behind me, and headed down the stairs. I figured if I entered the house through the front door, I might be lucky enough to miss running into Brenda. Until things calmed down, I didn’t feel like talking to her, either.
I made a stop in the garage and grabbed a couple screwdrivers from the big wooden toolbox some caretaker had left decades before and headed for the house.
The big oak door opened silently on well-oiled hinges, and I carefully closed it so that it wouldn’t make a noise. I tracked across the polished marble floor and crept up the stairs. The door to Richard’s and Brenda’s bedroom was open, and I hurried past, grateful the floorboards under the carpet didn’t creak.
The nursery door was closed and I carefully opened and closed it behind me, finding one hell of a mess scattered on the floor before me. Someone had emptied the huge rectangular box, tossing it and all the packaging aside, and had spread out all the parts across the carpet. I would have preferred to take everything out of the box myself, but what was done was done.
Except for the upholstered glider, all the furniture was white and, except for the crib, was meant to be something little Betsy Ruth could grow into, instead of the room being stuck in infant mode for far too long. She’d like it, and I knew she’d be delighted with the matching mobile Maggie had chosen to hang over the crib. It wasn’t infant specific, either, with fanciful bugs in various pastel shades — including a bumblebee. Since my recent unpleasant encounter with this particular insect, it was not something I cared to inspect too carefully.
The crib’s assembly instructions sat on the top of the changing tray atop the dresser. I grabbed them and sat down in the glider in front of the window to study them.
I found the Allen wrench that came with the parts, and was just about to grab the first piece to attach it to the left end of the backside of the crib when the door opened. I looked up to find Da-Marr standing before me. What the hell? I’d thought he’d gone out with Richard and Evelyn.
“What in hell are you doing here?” he asked.
I swallowed, determined not to let the kid get to me. And yet my fists automatically clenched, my nails digging into my palms. “Excuse me, but I’ve got history with his house. You don’t.”
“And you think that makes you better than me?” he challenged, his anger deeper than the situation warranted.
“No. I’m just telling you that when it comes to family, I’m related by blood. You aren’t. So bug off and leave me alone.”
“To do what?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m gonna build this crib.”
“What do you know about building anything?” he demanded and stalked across the room, snatching the Allen wrench from my hand.
“Hey!” I protested and used the chair’s arms to boost me to a stand. Da-Marr reared back, his face screwed up in anger. He drew back his arm as though to hit me and …
Everything went black as a flashback overtook me.
The mugging.
The baseball bat arching toward my skull.
Skyrockets of pain overwhelmed me before I fell a million miles to the frozen pavement below me.
And then the heavens opened up, yawning miles above me.
A brilliant white light exploded and began to suck me upward, spiraling toward it — threatening to obviate all that I knew — all that I was.
Wrenching me from my most precious possession — my life!
It seemed eons later when once again I was able to absorb reality and found myself cowering in a corner of what had once been my own bedroom. Shouting voices registered somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t make out the furious words. I was taken back to the screaming matches between my parents — the verbal and physical abuse that had been such a terrible part of my early childhood. A horrible place where I was sure that my world — my life — was about to end.
Then gentle hands grasped the balled fists that were pressed into my eye sockets so hard all I saw was that terrible, lethal white light.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the voice crooned and pulled me into a fierce hug.
I knew that tears cascaded down my cheeks, but like all the tragedies from my past, I wouldn’t allow a sound to issue from my throat — my sense of humiliation wouldn’t allow it.
“What a wuss! He’s a Goddamn wuss!” the terrible voice boomed.
“Get out — just get out!” a woman’s voice shrieked.
Brenda. It was Brenda who held onto me tightly, and I realized I held her hand in a ferocious grip — scared to death to let go.
Somehow, I managed to get my breathing under control and opened my eyes, seeing only the intersecting walls, the corner molding, and carpet.
“It’s okay. It’s okay now,” Brenda kept saying and kissed the top of my head.
I couldn’t look at her. I was too ashamed. So ashamed I felt like puking.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said and didn’t let go. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand….”
“What on earth is going on here?” asked a stern voice.
My eyes squeezed shut tighter yet and I felt myself pulling inward, trying to grow even smaller.
“Not now,” Brenda said fiercely. “Go. Just go!”
I heard the door slam — really loud.
I turned my head so far to my right — trying to bury it in the corner — that I thought my neck might break, and the arm around my shoulder suddenly jerked back, pulling me with it.
“I’m sorry, Jeffy, but my center of gravity is so out of whack,” Brenda apologized.
I forced myself to look behind me to find poor Brenda sitting on her backside in a terribly undignified state, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, awash with fresh humiliation.
“No, hon, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I didn’t mean to — ”
I reached out and pressed a couple of fingers against her lips to stop her from speaking. Suddenly I could breathe a lot easier. I reached out and grasped her hands, pulling her up and settling her onto the glider. Then I fell back on my bony ass on the carpeted floor, feeling a dozen different degrees of stupid.
“Did he hurt you?” Brenda asked at last, sounding frightened.
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to speak without my voice cracking into a million pieces, but I had to at least try. “It was my fault,” I said, not sure I believed it. At that moment, I wasn’t at all sure what I believed.
The tears continued to stream down her face, and I knew that I had caused her this monumental, most terrible pain. “I don’t know. I didn’t — ” I couldn’t come up with any more detailed explanation for my abominable behavior.
This time she reached out to press her hand against my lips. “What a fine pair we make,” Brenda said. “We’ve got so much baggage between us we might as well be porters.” She laughed, but there was no mirth behind it. She reached for my hand and clasped it tightly. “You’re so afraid of Da-Marr, and I’m just as afraid of Evelyn.”
“Why does she scare you?” I asked, willing to do anything than admit my own failings.
“Because. In my parents’ eyes, she could do no wrong. She did everything right. She married the right guy. She had great kids. She had a successful career….”
But that wasn’t at all what she meant.
She seemed to be gulping great drafts of air. “I’m scared, Jeffy. I’m about to have a baby and all I want is my mama. She wouldn’t come, but Evie said she would. But … it’s not the same. I knew it wouldn’t be good, but I let her come anyway, and all she’s done is try to destroy the family I have here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen.”
And then it was her turn to completely lose it. Suddenly she was sobbing uncontrollably and I was scared to death her water would break and I’d be thrust into th
e role of midwife — something I wasn’t at all prepared for. Instead, I struggled to my knees, threw my arms around her, and let her cry into my shoulder for what seemed like way too many minutes. Nobody should ever have to cry that hard. Her heart was breaking and I, too, was so swallowed up by her misery that tears leaked from my own eyes once again.
First Morrow’s fear. Then Brenda’s remorse and sorrow — it was a terrible, awful place to be, and yet I didn’t let go. I held on to her. I tried my best to comfort her as I had with my mother. She who was too often drunk, who couldn’t take care of herself, let alone me. It had been a terrible situation, and yet I’d loved her unconditionally. I loved Brenda the same way, and yet it was often she who took care of me. Now I had a chance to repay the favor.
Eventually Brenda’s sobs quieted, but I could still feel the emotional pain that had a stranglehold on her heart. She pulled back and wiped a hand across her bloodshot eyes. “What’re we going to do?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I guess there’s nothing to do but get through it.”
“I wish I could just send them home, but … that isn’t going to work. I just want to be with Richard, and you, and Maggie. You’re my family here in Buffalo. We don’t have anything to prove to each other.”
I was glad she felt that way, but I also felt the tug of pain she felt for her missing twin. She’d lost a part of her soul when Ruth had died — and more than a decade later the wound was still a raw slash across her soul. I wished I could say something to comfort her, but at that moment, I was just as big a basket case.
An unopened box of baby wipes sat on the shelf below the changing table and I grabbed it, struggling to rip the plastic wrap from around it. Once open, I handed her a wipe and took one for myself, wiping that cool paper-cloth across my face and drinking in the baby-powder-like scent.
I sat back on my heels and looked around the messy room. We only had days — if that — to pull the nursery together, but at that moment I knew it was the farthest thing from Brenda’s mind.
“Richard said you already know all about our girl.”
Just the thought of little Betsy Ruth was like a balm to my soul. “She’s gonna be one hell of a great kid.”
“Oh my god, I’m going to have a daughter,” Brenda said and looked down at her swollen abdomen and laughed.
“You sure are.”
“You’re going to be an uncle.”
“Yeah,” I said and laughed, and yet somewhere inside me I also knew that being Betsy Ruth’s uncle was as close as I would ever get to parenthood. It was just never in the cards. When I was married to Shelley, I figured we’d eventually have a brood. Now I knew better and felt unaccountably sad.
“I need a drink,” Brenda said wearily.
“It’s another hour or so until happy hour,” I told her.
“I haven’t had a drink in almost nine months. I’m overdue.”
“When Betsy arrives, I’ll bring you a bottle of Dom Pérignon.”
Her expression soured. “You will not.”
“Who says?” I challenged.
She tried to hide a smile, but it peeked out anyway. “You will? But you can’t afford it.”
“Hey, I’ve got a generous landlord. He doesn’t charge me an arm and a leg for my humble abode, so I can sometimes splurge.”
Brenda shook her head, but her smile was beatific. “No, I guess he doesn’t.”
I sobered. “Hard as it is, I think we can get through the next week or so. At least, I’m willing to try.”
She reached for and captured my hand. “It won’t be easy for either of us.”
“Yeah, but we’re made of tough stuff.”
“Not!” she said, and we both laughed.
That’s when I knew we were going to be okay. Whatever shit had gone on since Evelyn and Da-Marr had arrived was not going to impact our lives in the long run. We were family once again, and it felt good.
And then I remembered that horrible yawning light that threatened to suck me into it and everything I’d just accepted as truth seemed to crumble.
The fact was that I might be dead in the not-too-distant future.
And the thought scared me shitless.
Chapter 19
Richard and Evelyn returned from the grocery store sooner than he’d expected. He followed her into the house, hands filled with plastic grocery bags, when Da-Marr stormed into the kitchen.
“She’s crazy!” he hollered, absolutely livid.
“Who’s crazy?” Evelyn demanded.
“And that brother of yours is an asshole,” he railed, stabbing the air with his index finger. “A stupid, wuss of an asshole!”
“What’s going on?” Richard, too, demanded.
“Aw, it ain’t my fault,” Da-Marr backpedaled. “I went in the baby’s room and he was there. He picked a fight with me. And then he went berserk.”
Richard’s insides froze. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice low.
“I was just gonna give him a tap when — ”
“Holy Christ,” Richard grated, and practically tossed the groceries onto the kitchen table.
“Richard! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain in my presence,” Evelyn bellowed. She didn’t wait for a further explanation, and took off in the direction of the stairs.
“Did you hit him?” Richard asked, finding it hard to keep his voice from rising.
“No!”
“Then what happened?”
“He made out like I did. And then Brenda showed up and started screaming at me. She said some terrible things. She’s crazy.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know. She was screaming so loud, nothing she said made sense and then she told me to get out.” He pushed Richard. “And that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Wait!” Richard called, and went after him.
Da-Marr grabbed his jacket from a peg in the butler’s pantry, yanked open the door, and stormed out.
Richard felt no urge to follow, and instead he turned and started toward the stairs. Evelyn was on her way down, looking furious.
“She ordered me out! She wouldn’t even tell me what had happened. I’m beginning to think Da-Marr’s right. That girl is crazy!”
Richard took the stairs two at a time, but he stopped at the landing and listened. No sound came from the nursery where the door was closed. He walked softly and paused at the door, listening, but heard nothing. Quietly, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Brenda sat on the glider, and Jeff was on his knees — the two of them holding onto each other for dear life, while Brenda sobbed uncontrollably.
Richard hesitated for a long moment, fighting the urge to interrupt, and then closed the door softly.
He turned and slowly, quietly retraced his steps to the bottom of the stairs.
He saw Evelyn sitting on one of the living room chairs, her back to him, and ignored her. Once back in the kitchen, he put the groceries away. Glancing out the window, he noticed the garage door was open and that Brenda’s car was missing. Da-Marr must have taken her keys.
Biting back anger, Richard resisted the temptation of a glass of Scotch. It was just too easy to pour himself a glass and sit and brood.
Instead, he went to his study, sat in what had long ago been his grandfather’s big leather chair behind the desk, and stared out the window at the gloomy gray sky. The leaves on the maple tree out back had already started to fall.
Da-Marr had made two unforgivable mistakes. Threatening Jeff, and taking the car. God only knew where he was and what he was up to.
Richard wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, thinking of too much — and nothing — for far too long, but eventually he got up and wandered down the hall, passing the living room where Evelyn still sat, only now she was thumbing through a magazine.
In the kitchen, Richard pulled out a couple of glasses, filled them with ice, and then poured Scotch, neat, in one, and bourbon in the other. Then he took out a wine glass and filled it half way wit
h Cabernet. Grabbing a tray from the cupboard, he tossed a clean tea towel over it and headed up the stairs.
Upon arriving at the nursery, he found the door still closed and knocked.
“Come in,” came Brenda’s muffled voice.
Richard turned the handle and stuck his head inside. Jeff was on the floor with the instructions beside him, while Brenda sat on the glider, holding up the partially assembled crib. “Can you use an extra pair of hands?” he asked.
“Yes,” they said as one, and laughed.
Leaving the door open behind him, Richard entered.
“And what have we here?” Brenda asked, looking intrigued.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Richard said, whipping off the towel with a flourish. He passed out the glasses and set the tray on the changing table.
Brenda sniffed the contents of her glass. “Is this real?”
“As real as it gets,” Richard assured her.
“But what about — ?”
“One glass is not going to hurt the baby.”
“It sure isn’t going to hurt me,” Jeff said, and took a good slug of bourbon.
“Hey, wait for the toast,” Richard said. “To Betsy Ruth.”
They clinked glasses and drank.
“To the crib!” Brenda proposed.
They clinked again.
“To us,” Jeff chimed in.
“Let’s not chug it,” Richard admonished, and they all laughed. The icebreaker had worked, because the ensuing conversation was likely to be hard on all of them.
Richard eased himself down to the carpet, set his glass down, and picked up one of the errant crib pieces. “Now, where does this go?” he asked.
I’d arrived at Maggie’s well before dark, and wasn’t sure exactly when she was likely to return from visiting Lily at the rehab facility. I knew she’d be hungry and have no interest in cooking, so I stopped at the grocery store and bought a selection of ready-to-heat entrees and sides that would feed an army. She wouldn’t have to make dinner for a couple of days. After putting everything in her nearly empty fridge, I went downstairs to visit my cat, who latched onto me like a leech. I hadn’t realized how much we would miss each other when I’d dropped him off the day before.
Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) Page 17