by Becky Wade
She sank onto a kitchen chair and scrolled through new email on her phone. With a jolt, she saw that she’d received two emails in response to her death certificate requests.
She opened the first one. No death certificate for Bonnie O’Reilly had been found.
That might mean that Bonnie O’Reilly was still living, or that might mean that Leah’s lack of details regarding Bonnie had ended in a failed search.
She clicked the second email. A death certificate had been located for Ian Monroe O’Reilly.
What?
She followed the link provided. A PDF of Ian’s death certificate expanded on the screen.
Ian’s mother was listed as Bonnie Theresa Byrne O’Reilly. “Blimey,” she breathed, astonished. Bonnie’s birthplace: Oxford, Alabama. Ian’s father: Malcolm Francis O’Reilly. Ian had been born and had died in Atlanta. Cause of death: overdose from heroin and alcohol. Age: twenty-eight . . . the exact same age that Leah was now.
She blinked at the death certificate. Had Ian’s overdose been the unintentional outcome of mixing too much heroin with too much alcohol? Or had he purposely taken that cocktail with the intention of committing suicide?
At last, she’d found Bonnie O’Reilly. Unfortunately, though, this information had flowed to her through Bonnie’s son’s death certificate.
Leah retrieved her computer and brought up YourHeritage.com. This time, she ran a search for census records equipped with Bonnie’s full name and place of birth.
The site highlighted the Byrne family in the 1940 census.
Bonnie’s parents were named Sean and Ellen. Like Bonnie, Sean and Ellen had been born in Oxford. At the time of this census, Bonnie had been just a few months old. Her elder sister, Orla, had been two. Sean worked construction. Ellen worked as a seamstress.
Additional hunting yielded Bonnie’s marriage record. Bonnie married Malcolm O’Reilly in Alpharetta, Georgia, when she was twenty-two.
Adroitly, Leah ran through the now-familiar routine, looking for Bonnie Byrne O’Reilly and Malcolm Francis O’Reilly via Google and social media sites.
Nothing.
She’d found Bonnie in one sense but still had no idea how to parlay that into a meeting with the woman in the here-and-now.
Sebastian made it to Misty River’s football stadium by halftime on Friday night. He’d been so eager to see Leah that he’d gone to work at five this morning so he’d be able to wrap things up early and arrive in time to catch part of Dylan’s game.
As he maneuvered through the sea of bodies behind the bleachers, he caught sight of blond hair in the crowd.
Leah came into view, walking in his direction, carrying a bag of popcorn in one hand and a disposable cup in the other.
He’d rushed here from Atlanta for her. He’d taken a week of vacation for her. Seeing her proved those decisions right.
When she spotted him, her blue eyes rounded. Smile growing, she neared, then came to a stop before him. “You’re early.”
“I like to be early.”
“I like that you like to be early. I didn’t think I was going to get to see you until after the game. Had I known you were on-site, Connor and I wouldn’t have spent so long in the concession line.”
For the first time, he realized that someone was with her. Connor.
“I just got here,” Sebastian said.
“How’ve you been?” Connor asked.
“Really well.”
Ben hadn’t listed Connor as one of the school employees who had a crush on Leah. But, in this moment, that didn’t put Sebastian’s mind at ease. It could be that Leah viewed Connor as a friend but that Connor, like Ben, viewed Leah as more.
“I was just talking with Ben earlier this week,” Connor said, “about what you guys went through back in El Salvador.”
“He’s a good one to talk to about it.” Unlike me.
“I grew up here, so I have clear memories of watching the news coverage. For days, my mom was either praying about it or sitting in front of the TV set, waiting for updates.”
“Thank your mom for me,” Sebastian said.
“I’ll do that.”
Leah gave Sebastian a questioning look. “Are you going to sit with me this time or with the Colemans?”
“With you this time.”
“Good. Let’s get settled before the second half starts.”
They said good-bye to Connor. To lighten her load, Sebastian carried the popcorn as they walked up the ramp.
She had on the same jersey he’d seen her in at the last football game. Because of the colder late-November temperatures, she wore a white shirt beneath. She’d stuck the round pin of Dylan to a jean jacket.
“I’m jealous,” he said.
She stopped at the bottom rail of the bleachers. “Why?”
“Connor has something I want. He gets to be around you all week.”
“Ah. Well, the answer’s simple. Quit your job and become a teacher at Misty River High.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Don’t tempt me with all this—” she waved a hand at his face— “handsomeness. Honestly, Sebastian. It’s too much.”
“I want to make out with you.”
“No. We’re surrounded by hundreds of people.”
She was right. They were standing in view of the spectators. One of them would be Ben, and Sebastian wouldn’t do that to his friend. It’s just that it was way harder than expected not to touch her. He hadn’t seen her in days.
He followed her up the bleacher stairs.
She pointed to the side. “I’m sitting over here with Tess and Rudy.”
“I’ll say hi to the Colemans, then I’ll join you.”
“Excellent.”
He passed back her popcorn and made his way to the Coleman family section. They welcomed him with their usual loud enthusiasm.
“You’re joining us for church and Sunday dinner at the house, right?” CeCe demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“If you stand me up, I’ll be after you with a shotgun.”
“I’ll be there.”
Hadley Jane jumped into his arms. “I haven’t seen you in so long, Sebastian.”
“It’s been too long,” he agreed. She stayed in his arms while he greeted the rest of the family. Eventually, he reached Ben. They hugged, causing the little girl to giggle when she was sandwiched between them.
“Is it okay with you that I’m here tonight?” Sebastian asked.
Ben gave a good-natured shrug. “You’re welcome to cheer for the Mountaineers anytime.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. It’s okay.” Ben’s expression looked clearer and less troubled than it had the past few times he’d seen his friend. “What’s been going on lately?”
They used to keep in close enough contact that Ben wouldn’t have had to ask. “Work’s been about the same.”
“Any change on the little girl who needs a heart transplant?”
“What little girl?” Hadley Jane asked.
“One of the babies I take care of at the hospital.” To Ben, Sebastian said, “We had to take her off the transplant list, but then we put her back on. Now we’re just waiting to see if a heart becomes available in time.”
“I hope it does. I feel for her and her parents.”
Hadley Jane’s jaw dropped. “She’s getting a new heart?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I want a new heart!”
“Your heart is already perfect. That’s my professional diagnosis as a surgeon.”
“But I don’t want this old one.”
“Newer isn’t always better.”
“Yeah huh, it is.”
“How’s your baseball team been doing?” Sebastian asked Ben. Ben had played baseball in college and now competed in a men’s league.
“We’re still dominating.”
“And your strained hamstring?”
“Better.”
Ben probably thought he knew how
much their friendship meant to Sebastian. After all, Ben had experienced every minute of time they’d spent together. Yet Ben couldn’t know what his friendship had meant to a heartbroken, lonely kid. He couldn’t know what his dependability had been worth to a boy who’d learned young that the world wasn’t a reliable place. “Has anyone seen Luke here in Misty River since he was released?”
“Not that I know of. I’m planning to reach out to his mom soon to see if I can get his number from her.”
Sebastian nodded. “See you at church on Sunday?”
“Yes, and also Tuesday night, for dinner with Natasha and Genevieve.”
“Right.”
“I’m glad you’re going to be in town for the whole week.”
“Same here.”
“Now pass the child.” Ben reached for Hadley Jane. “You haven’t come over to see me yet, little girl. Which means you haven’t discovered the hidden lollipop I brought for you.”
She squealed and scrambled into Ben’s arms.
Sebastian found Leah and lowered onto the bleacher seat next to her.
Leaning back, she introduced him to the older couple sitting on her far side. They were wearing jerseys and Dylan pins that matched Leah’s.
Rudy grinned at him. “Are you two dating?”
“Yes,” Sebastian answered before Leah could say no.
“Rudy,” Tess said to her husband. “That’s not a very polite question.”
“I can’t help myself!” Rudy replied. “I’m just so happy to see Leah with a young man. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure’s mine.”
“Isn’t Leah the best?” Rudy asked.
“The best.”
“She’s the smartest thing.” Rudy’s glasses slipped down his nose. “The sweetest.”
“I don’t consider myself to be sweet,” Leah murmured under her breath to Sebastian.
“But smart you’ll accept?” he murmured back.
“You better believe I will.”
“Push up your glasses, please,” Tess instructed Rudy, who hurried to do as she asked.
A whistle sounded, and the teams jogged onto the field for the second half. The Mountaineers were down, seven to seventeen.
“Where’s Dylan?” Sebastian asked.
“There. On the sidelines. He played a fair amount in the first half, so I have hope that you’ll get to see him in action.” She held the popcorn toward him. He took a handful.
It tasted like average quality movie popcorn. But he was starving, so it might as well have been the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.
“Did you have dinner?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll go down and get you something. Hamburger? Hot dog—”
“You’re here to watch your brother. I’m here to watch your brother. I can wait to eat until after the game.”
“I really don’t mind,” she told him.
His chest ached with tenderness. He was a doctor, used to the role of caretaker, less familiar with being cared for. “Thanks, but I can wait.”
“Then eat the rest of this.” She passed the popcorn over. “I had as much as I wanted when you were talking to the Colemans.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” Those thick lashes framed eyes that looked candid. But it might be that he was just a sucker where she was concerned. It might be that she could tell him the sun was made of Play-Doh, and he’d believe her.
“And here.” She lifted her cup. “Iced tea. There’s at least half left.”
He hesitated.
“Good grief. Here.” She thrust the tea at him. “For someone who’s quick to give gifts, you seem awfully reluctant to take them.”
“Oh?” he asked dryly. “How does that feel? To want to give something to someone who’s reluctant to take it?”
She laughed. “It’s my turn to complain about you! You’re not allowed to twist this into an opportunity to complain about me.”
On the next play, Dylan jogged onto the field. Leah cupped her hands around her mouth. “Go, Dylan!”
They were too far away for Dylan to hear. She scooted forward on the seat, back straight. The play went off. She shouted encouragement, clapped, winced, then clapped some more as the boys regrouped in a huddle.
Watching her was the best entertainment in Georgia.
“You got this, Mountaineers!” Leah yelled.
A few minutes later, the team failed to convert on third down and had to kick. She shook her head. “When they run the ball, they convert on third down sixty-seven percent of the time. So I’m not sure why they attempt to pass on third downs.”
“Can I go get a candy bar?” Rudy asked his wife.
The older woman released a frustrated sigh. “You already had half a Kit Kat, remember?”
“I’m still hungry.”
“Here. I have some carrot sticks in my purse.” Tess handed Rudy the snack she’d packed in a Baggie.
“Pretty soon,” Leah whispered to Sebastian, “Rudy will make a trip to the restroom and, when she’s not watching, buy and eat a cupcake.”
“I like them.”
She surveyed him from the corner of sparkling eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
In a short period of time, she’d become too important to him. Stupidly important to him. His old priorities had crashed like a game of Jenga, and now she sat at the top. Which left him vulnerable. He’d been trying to hold himself and his emotions in check. He was losing the battle, though, and that knowledge planted a seed of dread in him.
If he was smart, he’d live in the moment, enjoy the time he had with her, and accept whatever came.
Instead, he’d begun to long for promises from her she wasn’t ready—might never be ready—to give.
He wanted her to promise that she’d love him forever.
That she wouldn’t leave him.
That she wouldn’t die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following afternoon, Leah waited anxiously at the curb outside her house for Sebastian. She could count on him to be either early or punctual, and he was scheduled to arrive three minutes from now, at 1:45 p.m., to take her to a production of Fiddler on the Roof at the historic theater downtown.
Above, charcoal-tipped clouds spat drizzle. She pulled up the hood of her quilted jacket.
Sebastian’s Mercedes rounded the corner, and she exhaled with relief. He came to a stop before her, and she slid onto the passenger seat.
“Is something wrong?” he asked immediately.
“Yes, but let’s drive while I tell you about it.”
The car slid forward, windshield wipers clearing the field of vision. Pinpricks of rain. Cleared again by the wipers. Pinpricks of rain.
“I have a student named Claire,” Leah said. “I’ve told you about her, right?”
“Yes.”
“She’s this very kind, awkward, uncertain sixteen-year-old who has a dad with an anger management problem. He yells and screams and breaks things, but so far he’s stopped short of harming his children. Or so Claire says.”
He shot her a grave look.
“I gave her my number in case she ever needed to reach me, and she just texted me. She says things are bad right now and asked if I could give her a ride to a friend’s house.” Leah consulted the directions her phone had generated. “Stay straight until we get to Lemon Lane, then take a left.”
“Doesn’t this fall under the purview of child protective services?”
“CPS will get involved if they have reason to believe that a child is suffering emotional neglect. However, that’s a difficult accusation to prove in a way that’s legally binding.”
“Okay. What about referring her to a school counselor?”
“I did, but she hasn’t gotten to know our counselor well yet. I had Claire in class last year and again this year. I think she’s more comfortable with me.”
“Are tea
chers allowed to pick up students at their homes?”
“In this district, the answer is yes.” She twisted to face him. “I realize this is unorthodox and inconvenient. But I’m glad that Claire has asked someone—in this case, me—for help.”
“I don’t care that this is unorthodox or inconvenient. I do care, a lot, about your safety. I don’t like the sound of the dad with the anger management problem.”
She didn’t like the sound of him, either. She could understand why Sebastian might think it unwise for her to involve herself in Claire’s family life. Yet he hadn’t looked into Claire’s face and experienced a powerful tug of empathy and concern. He didn’t have a seventeen-year-old brother, so he couldn’t have the same soft spot for teenagers that she had.
Leah texted Claire.
We’ll be there in five minutes.
No response.
They pulled into a development of 1980s tract homes aspirationally named Tranquility River. Slivers of space separated structures with tiny fenced backyards. On Serene Court, dehydrated shrubs clung to the planting beds outside Claire’s two-story home.
“There’s a gun cabinet in the front room,” Sebastian said.
She could see it, too. The lights illuminating the downstairs front room provided a clear view of the interior.
Claire did not emerge.
Leah sent Claire another text, alerting her to their arrival.
Still nothing.
“Why isn’t she answering my texts?” she wondered out loud. “I’m worried.”
“I’m worried, too.”
“Should I go knock on the door?”
“No. If someone needs to, I’ll go. But I don’t think it’ll help. I can’t imagine a parent sending their daughter off with a man they’ve never met.”
“I think I’ll try to call—”
“Is this her?”
Leah’s vision swung up. Claire hurried down the front walkway.
Sebastian walked around the car to open the back door for her.
Leah punched the button to lower her window. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Claire said in a small voice.
Leah introduced Sebastian as Claire got settled in the back seat.
“You okay?” Leah asked while Sebastian returned to the driver’s side.
“Mmm-hmm.” Converse and jeggings poked out from today’s huge black sweater. Her skin looked pale; her reddish ringlets weary.