Broken Vows Mystery 03-In Sickness and in Death
Page 22
Ray pulled Danny into a hug. “Be a good kid. Make good choices. Follow the rules.” He let go of Danny and bent down to look him in the eye. “And know we’re here for you, whenever you need us.”
I gazed skyward, trying to contain the tears that threatened. As soon as Danny left, I planned to tell Ray in no uncertain terms, no more foster children. I couldn’t take the heartache again. Problem was Ray might start in on me about having a child of our own again. Given the way everything had been going lately, that idea appealed to me less and less, not that it ever really had.
A few good things had occurred. Danny’s father had gotten a job as a dishwasher. He’d also gotten a tutor from Literacy Volunteers. Two steps in the right direction.
He and Danny had already sold the Cadillac Escalade for thousands below sticker price. But the money would help.
Unfortunately, the house in Newark had come with a hefty mortgage and a home equity loan to be repaid. Danny’s father had said they would have to sell it. He hinted that the house wouldn’t sell for as much as the bank was owed. I couldn’t quite figure out how such a thing had happened. It made no sense to me that Danny’s aunt had borrowed more money than she could repay. It also made no sense to me that the bank had lent it to her. That sounded criminal. But then, lots of things don’t always make sense to me.
It did make it all the more painful to let Danny go. His future didn’t look as bright as we’d originally thought.
His father seemed cheerful enough. He came back to the porch and shook Ray’s hand one more time.
I reached for Danny and hugged him tight. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
He hugged me back. Tight. It took him a few seconds to let go.
When he followed his father down the sidewalk, he looked back. I thought I saw tears in his eyes.
Of course, I might have been fooled by all the tears in mine.
____
We had to make some adjustments to our Christmas plans, what with the addition of Maury to our family.
In the years when Ray and I had been separated, Erica and I had spent Christmas with my best friend Isabelle, her husband, and my godchild Cassidy. Last Christmas I’d spent with Noelle, the only Christmas I’d ever spend with her.
I would miss Danny, but I’d expected him to leave us all along. It was the unexpected departures of loved ones that I couldn’t handle.
This year, Erica had invited us to dinner, and with some hesitation and an apology to Isabelle, I had accepted. Now the day had arrived and I dressed with some trepidation. Erica had never been known to cook anything more difficult than macaroni and cheese. She’d promised us prime rib and lasagna.
I wore green and made extra heavy hors d’oeuvres just in case. Ray and I drove to my old apartment with Christmas carols playing on the radio, including my favorite “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”
Maury greeted us at the door and took our coats into the bedroom.
Ray took in the living room and whistled.
I stifled a laugh.
Red roses were everywhere. Roses in vases on the mantel, in pitchers on the coffee table and end tables, tucked in the Christmas tree as decorations, dried and crumbled in shallow dishes as potpourri. In addition, Erica had apparently used some of her precious wine cork and bottle cap collection to make an unusual mosaic frame for her wedding photo, which looked to have been taken outside a Vegas-like chapel. I got close enough to the photo to count the two dozen red roses she had clasped in her arms.
No sign of any dish gardens potted in homemade wishing wells—not that I ever expected to see any of those again.
When Erica appeared in the kitchen doorway, she even had a rose in her hair.
Needless to say, the aroma was heady.
Erica gestured toward all four walls. “How do you like the flowers?”
“They’re amazing.”
Ray cleared his throat. “Awesome.”
Erica danced into the room, sweeping her long emerald skirt through the air. “Maury spoils me. He says I’m a domestic goddess.”
I saw Ray’s eyes bulge on that one. He was probably thinking about the fact that I taught Erica what little she knows. But I have to give the man credit, he kept it together. He got his unreadable “good cop, bad cop, anything-you-need-me-to-be cop” expression locked in place within seconds.
Maury offered us wine. Ray asked for a beer. Erica went to the kitchen to retrieve one. I followed her.
“So Maury bought all these roses for you?” A little adding machine in my head was running the numbers. No wonder they couldn’t afford to pay their whole rent.
“No, oh no, these are the ones the florist discarded. They all had black spots or wilted leaves. I just pick off the dead stuff, and they look fine to me.”
A shrine of discarded roses for my sister. I tried not to read anything into that.
In the living room, Erica delivered Ray’s beer and perched on the arm of Maury’s chair. Then the four of us sat in awkward silence, alternately eating a bite and trying not to make eye contact.
“These are good hors d’oeuvres, Jolene. Did you make them?” Maury smiled at me.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they came in a box. “They bake up fast.”
Ray cleared his throat and took a long swig of beer. The four of us continued to smile politely at one another. I wished I were anywhere else. Knowing Ray, he probably wished he was at work.
The flowers started to get to me. My nose twitched. Then it itched. I rubbed it. My eyes watered. I sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed.
Erica curled her lip and offered me a tissue box. “Do you have a cold?”
“I think it’s the flowers.”
“Oh.” She glanced at Maury. “Why don’t we sit down for dinner?”
We followed her into the dining room. She swept a huge bouquet of roses off the table and stuffed them in the closet.
Maury, Ray, and I pretended not to notice.
With the first cut, the prime rib bled like it was still alive. I half expected to hear it moo in protest. The lasagna noodles were still brittle. Erica had tried the “no boil” method and forgotten to add extra water.
The salad looked good until it ended up swimming in the blood on my plate from the prime rib. I tried not to let my disgust show, but my expression betrayed me as usual.
Ray looked at me and buttered a roll with great care, as though it might be the only thing he planned on eating tonight.
Looking from one of us to the other, Erica burst into tears then ran into the bedroom.
Maury chased after her. I thought about joining him, but it didn’t seem to be my place anymore. He’d have to be the one to reassure Erica from now on that he loved her, whether she could cook or not. For a second, I felt like I’d lost something important. Then I started to feel tremendously relieved, as though a huge burden had just transferred from me to someone else. But I felt guilty for thinking of Erica as a burden, even though she was—on occasion—a weight heavy enough for an entire mule train.
Ray offered me half his roll. “Let’s invite them to dinner at our house next year.”
I smiled at the man who loved me. “It’s a plan.”
Maury reappeared five minutes later, shoulders slumped and red-faced. Our coats were in his hand. “I think the pressure of entertaining has been too much for my wife. Would you excuse us?”
We were being sent home.
I took a minute to pack up my remaining hors d’oeuvres.
In the car, I fed them to Ray as he drove. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t ruin dinner.”
“I accepted her invitation. I should have known better.”
Ray shrugged. “You had to give her a chance. From now on, we’re busy if she invites us for dinner.”
But right now we didn’t have anything to do for the rest of Christmas Day. Or anything more to eat. And all the restaurants in Wachobe were closed, as was every business. We were the only c
ar on Main Street.
I thought for a second. “Do you want to drive by the park and look at the town Christmas tree?”
“Good idea.”
A few minutes later, Ray pulled up next to the park on Main. In the center of it, a white band gazebo overlooked the lake, where the water had begun to freeze along the shoreline. A twelve-foot evergreen lit with clear lights and covered with enormous red and gold ornaments shone brightly in the dusk.
My eyes filled with tears. I had found Noelle under that tree last year, wrapped in blankets and tucked safely into her car seat, waiting for me. She had been a precious gift. Just not one meant for us.
Ray ran his finger down my cheek. “What are you thinking about?”
“Noelle.”
“Oh.” He reached over and lifted me across the center console and onto his lap. “I miss her, too. But she’s safe and healthy and happy. I’m not as sure about Danny. I’ll miss him. I won’t have anyone to play poker with anymore.”
I snuggled into his chest. Maybe I would try to learn the game to make Ray happy. “Danny’s father seems to love him.”
“I hope he loves him enough.”
I did, too, but Danny wasn’t on my watch anymore. I’d let him go.
I wondered how Ray felt to find himself childless once again, but I hesitated to ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
I ran my finger over his lower lip. He smiled at me. “What?”
“We are without child again. You wanted at least one.” It had been his one and only condition for us getting back together. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t take my statement as an offer to conceive.
His gaze shifted to some distant point beyond the windshield. “I did say that. But I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t want one. There’s a lot of heartbreak and responsibility involved.”
I thought of Noelle. And a lot of joy. My lips parted, “As well as—”
“Why don’t we turn on some Christmas music?” Ray leaned forward and adjusted the dial. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” came on again.
This was new. For once, Ray was the one who didn’t want to discuss children. I decided to respect his wishes—and count my blessings.
He cuddled me close and kissed my forehead. “This is good.”
I kissed his neck and cuddled closer to him. “Yeah.”
It was good for all of fifteen minutes until Ray’s legs started to cramp. Then I slid back into my seat and he headed the car toward home.
We drove by Asdale Auto Imports. Cory and I had strung clear lights around the showroom window and tied a bow on the …
“Stop!”
Ray hit the brakes. We lurched forward and back. Ray’s forehead just missed the windshield.
Ray peered out at the street in front of us. “What? Was it an animal?”
“No. Look!” I pointed to the shop window.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Exactly.”
The Ferrari was gone.
____
Ray called Wachobe’s chief of police, since the theft occurred technically in his jurisdiction. The chief wasn’t too happy to leave home and hearth in order to take my report, but he did. He found it most peculiar that my alarm was still activated. So did Ray and I.
From the tire tracks in the snow, we could tell someone had opened up the front doors and pulled the car out, impossible to do without either turning the alarm off or activating it, which would have brought this situation to the chief’s attention much earlier than now.
The chief asked, “Who knows your alarm code?”
Ray cocked an eyebrow at me. “You did change it, didn’t you?”
He meant since last year when the dead man ended up in the Ferrari. “Yes! Only Cory and I know. That’s it.”
Ray pointed to my purse. “Call Cory.”
Cory spent the holidays at home each year with his parents and his brother’s family. He answered on the third ring. I heard voices in the background.
I didn’t bother with any greetings. “The Ferrari’s gone from the showroom, but the alarm is still on. Do you know where it went?”
“No shit?”
“No shit, Cory.”
“I don’t know, but this is cause for celebration, don’t you think?”
I did, but I couldn’t let the police chief and Ray know.
I wished Cory a Merry Christmas and snapped the phone shut.
Ray and I drove home in silence. On the way, it occurred to me that one more person might know my alarm code, one twelve-year-old boy who I most certainly didn’t want to get in any new trouble.
Ray parked the car in our driveway. I heard singing as we got out of the car. “Do you hear that?”
Ray tipped his head, listening. “Must be carolers.”
Yes … but why did they sound like … SpongeBob?
Ray unlocked the front door of the bungalow. I stepped inside. SpongeBob was on the television, dressed in full Christmas regalia, singing with Patrick and the whole underwater gang.
Danny was on our couch.
He was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He waved it at us sheepishly. “I let myself in.”
Ray looked at the key in his hand and the lock he had just removed it from. He frowned.
But now was not the time to discuss Danny’s unique talents.
I ran over and threw my arms around Danny, kissing his forehead. “What are you doing here?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes. “My dad brought me.”
“Where is he?” I had a feeling I knew the answer.
Danny’s Adam’s apple moved up and down slowly, and I felt him tremble. “He had to go away. I don’t know where. Is it okay if I stay with you for a while? He didn’t think you’d mind.”
I wondered if the man ever planned to come back. I was positive he had my Ferrari. I knew Ray must have thought the same, so I was surprised when he made no move to call the police chief and fill him in.
Surprised and relieved. Mr. Phillips was welcome to the Ferrari. I would much rather have Danny. Apparently so would Ray.
I pulled Danny close. “We don’t mind. We don’t mind at all.” I looked up at Ray and waited.
He smiled with genuine happiness. “Danny, you know you’re my favorite poker buddy. You’re welcome here anytime.”
Danny stopped trembling and a big grin took over his face. “You really meant it? I wasn’t sure.”
Ray leaned in to ruffle Danny’s hair. “One thing you can be sure of, Danny. Jolene and I mean everything we say.”
____
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing poker, listening to Christmas carols, and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and brownies that I baked and covered with green-tinted frosting. After I tucked Danny in for the night, he called out to me as I was about to close the door.
“Yes, Danny?”
“I almost forgot. Dad told me to give you a message.”
I hoped it wasn’t a clue as to where to find the Ferrari. I’d already done my happy dance alone in our bedroom while Ray and Danny set up the poker game.
In fact, I wasn’t even going to ask Danny if he gave his father my alarm code. Because then I would have to thank him.
I stepped inside Danny’s room and flicked on the light switch. “What is it?”
Danny sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t really understand it.”
“What did he say?”
“He said ‘Tell Jolene I was thinking college fund.’”
TheEnd
About the Author
Lisa Bork lives in western New York and loves to spend time in the Finger Lakes region. Married and the mother of two children, she worked in human resources and marketing before becoming a writer. For more information, please visit her website at www
.LisaBork.com.
Bork belongs to The Authors Guild; Mystery Writers of America; Sisters in Crime; and her neighborhood bookclub, the Thursday Evening Literary Society. Her
debut novel, For Better, For Murder, was a 2009 Agatha Award finalist for Best First Novel, and the second book in her Broken Vows mystery series, For Richer, For Danger, was released in September 2010.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
About
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
About