After things settled down, she would need to get to Chicago to pick up her belongings from the brownstone that Brandon, her ex-fiancé, had purchased for them. The bombshell engagement in the doctors’ lounge, complete with a two-karat diamond ring adorning the top of a peanut-butter-and-jelly cupcake (her favorite!) had come just moments prior to news of her father’s first heart attack. After checking in on him, Emily had launched into Julie’s death investigation. The week following she had been consumed with Julie’s case. Stepping into the coroner’s shoes after 13 years took up every ounce of her energy. When she surfaced, she realized Brandon had not exactly been the model of support. She had barely heard from him. He was consumed by his own burgeoning surgical schedule. How on earth would they be able to make a life together if he couldn’t even be there for her during her father’s crisis?
When Brandon did finally drive up to Freeport and meet her father for the first time—a few days before Dad’s second heart attack—she had been surprised at how different they seemed from one another.
In the short time she had been absent from their life in Chicago, Brandon had bought them a brownstone and moved everything from her city apartment into the new place without even telling her. And he had begun plans for their wedding reception with the help of his controlling mother. Again, without any consent from Emily. It was more than she could take. She didn’t want her life ordered and arranged. She wanted a say in it. She wanted an equal partner, a best friend, someone who would drop everything to be by her side, especially in her time of greatest need. Brandon was too little, too late.
Her feet had grown cold, and she’d given the ring back. Their breakup had been abrupt and hurtful for both of them. Now, in all the trauma over her father’s sudden passing, she hadn’t even thought to call Brandon to tell him her father had died.
How easy it was for someone who had been in her life every day for the past couple of years to slip her mind so quickly. Still, the pain tugged at her heart when her mind wandered to the good places their relationship had taken them. Emily decided she would chalk up her oversight to sleep deprivation and grief.
Emily brushed out her hair and twisted it into a smooth bun. She applied four bobby pins and a spritz of hair spray. From her mirror she could hear the hearse pulling into the driveway. Cathy’s son, Ben, exited and headed toward the front door, but his mother met him in the drive. When she saw him, she broke down and he gave her a long hug. Emily felt a lump in her throat. Despite their very short marriage, Cathy had really loved her father. She was now twice a widow and it just didn’t seem fair. After a moment, her son led her to the hearse and opened the door.
Emily turned back to her image in the mirror. She feared she looked stark and bookish with her hair pulled back, but she hadn’t had the energy to wash, dry, and style it properly. Everything about the last two weeks had drained her, including her own short hospital stay after being struck down during a chase to catch a killer. Thankfully, her shoulder, jaw, and rib injuries had been reduced to dull aches that required only a single ibuprofen this morning to relieve them.
Emily dabbed her lips with coral lipstick and searched for her red jacket. She headed downstairs to wait on the front porch for Nick, then sat on the same chair where she and her father had shared a slice of apple pie just a few days before he died. Emily thought about the house, the property, the home office. She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with it all.
Nick’s squad car pulled into the driveway, and she rose to meet it. When Nick got out of the car, Emily’s lips parted as she caught her breath. He looked handsome and dignified in his dress uniform.
“You look really stunning,” said Nick. “I don’t know if that’s the right thing to say on a day like this, but …”
Emily gave him a small smile. “You’re kind. I look like a tired library lady.”
Nick reached out to take her hand. She was grateful for the chivalrous gesture, especially as she maneuvered her way in the four-inch heels—another wardrobe borrow from Jo—that were two inches taller than she was used to.
Nick drove them onto the two-lane county highway that led toward Bishop and Schulz Funeral Home in the center of Freeport. Neither spoke for several miles until Nick’s radio scratched, breaking the silence.
“All units, I’m requesting a ten-thirteen at Pinetree Slopes. Please respond,” chirped a dispatcher on the other end.
Nick grabbed the radio receiver.
“What does that mean?” said Emily. “Is it urgent?”
“It means they need emergency assistance.”
Nick pressed the transmit button. “This is Sheriff Larson. Can you advise further?”
“Negative. Waiting on more information,” said the dispatcher.
“I need more info. What are we dealing with?”
After a moment, the dispatcher said, “They called in a nine-eight-oh-seven.”
“What’s that?” asked Emily.
“Suspicious situation.” Nick pressed his radio button down again to signal dispatch.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It’s code for a lot of things we don’t want to announce over the airwaves.”
“Like?”
“Like … like maybe a HAZMAT situation, or animal at large.”
She knew he was lying by the way his glance shifted out the driver’s side window as he said it.
The radio crackled and the dispatcher’s voice belted out, “We may have a ten-fourteen. Out.”
“A suspicious death,” Emily said with an air of confidence.
“I shoulda figured you knew that one,” Nick said as he nipped the cuticle skin off his left thumb with his teeth. There was one code Emily knew well. It was 10-14, request for a medical examiner.
“I’ll send a local police officer.”
“Nick, if you need to go there, I understand,” said Emily, remembering all the times her father, Freeport’s coroner for over thirty years, had been called to a death investigation case during the most inopportune moments and important events of their daily lives—band performances, the middle of a church service, and always, always during holiday dinners.
“I can’t. It’s your father’s funeral.”
“Drop me and come back,” she said.
“He was my friend, too. I’ll let some of the other guys handle it.”
“They’ll be calling for me next,” she mused, “and they’ll have to wait.”
Nick made the request for another officer, and they rode in silence. Emily’s thoughts started to drift to the call, and she wondered what they had found. How many bodies? In what condition? A small smile formed on her lips. How absolutely fitting that death would interrupt your own funeral. Nice nod, Dad. I get you.
“What are you smiling about?” Nick interrupted.
“Mom always joked that Dad would be late to his own funeral.”
Nick pressed on the accelerator pedal, and they sped toward Freeport.
“What is Pinetree Slopes, by the way? It wasn’t here when I lived in Freeport,” said Emily.
“Freeport’s hope for urban revitalization. They just broke ground.”
“No one’s actually living there yet?”
“No.”
“So, if no one’s living there, who’s dying there?”
Nick glanced over, and Emily met his eyes with a smug look.
“You are still definitely your father’s daughter.”
3
Emily and Nick arrived at Bishop and Schulz Funeral Home and, ironically, couldn’t find a place to park in the overfull lot, so Nick pulled the car under the large overhang at the front entrance. Emily could only imagine how many people were packed inside. Cathy was probably in there frantically setting up more chairs in the back instead of allowing herself to play the part of grieving widow.
Emily realized just at that moment she hadn’t prepared anything to say. The last few weeks had been a blur, and cobbling together any string of thoughts or decisions had been al
most beyond her abilities. She would have to wing it and just speak from her heart. It wouldn’t be too hard to praise the younger version of this man who had lovingly raised her and formed her into the surgeon she was today. It was the older version of Dr. Robert Hartford who was the enigma. Especially in light of his last words to her. She would play it safe and focus on the father of her youth.
“I’m just gonna park it here. What are they gonna do? Arrest me?” said Nick.
Emily grinned at his joke.
“Don’t move,” he said, getting out of the car. Nick went around to her door, opened it for her, and helped her out. He took her arm and opened the right door of the double doors.
“It’s going to be okay. Freeport loved your dad.”
Did they? She wished she could know that part of him now.
“You’ll probably get to hear lots of stories today that will fill in some details that you’ve missed.” Nick had read her mind.
“Yeah.” She would get to know better the father she had abandoned … and who had emotionally abandoned her after her mom’s death.
“Emily?” said a voice behind her. She turned to see Brandon rising from a high-backed chair in the corner.
“Oh my goodness. Brandon. You’re here.” Her hands dropped limply to her sides, and she could feel the corners of her mouth turning down into a frown. This was a surprise, especially since their last words to each other had indicated they were over.
Cathy shuffled in from a side room and grabbed Nick by the arm. “Nick, I could use your help with something for a second.” The two of them disappeared into the side room.
Emily turned to Brandon, who embraced her. He smelled amazing, and she melted comfortably into his arms like she had a thousand times throughout their relationship. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about Dad.”
“Don’t worry. The way we left things … you had a lot on your plate.”
“Nice of you to come up.” She forced a small smile.
“Are you okay? Of course you’re not. Stupid question.” He was nervous—a trait she had never seen in him before. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.” Emily nodded and swallowed the lump growing in her throat.
“I know this is really weird timing, but as soon as I heard about your father’s passing, it got me thinking about how little time we have on this earth, and that … that I’m sure, one hundred percent, that I want to spend the rest of it with you.”
Emily pulled away and looked into his eyes. Was he serious? Now? Of all times and places?
“I’m about to bury my father,” she whispered.
“I know. And that’s why I feel so urgently about this. I love you, Em. I don’t want to wait another minute. I had to be here for you. To tell you that I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“This is not the right time, Brandon.” Her unease shriveled up, replaced by a warming sensation of disgust squeezing her rib cage. Is this what a panic attack feels like? She had heard them described this way by her patients.
“I’ve got a year left on my contract with Northwestern. After that, the sky’s the limit. We can go wherever you want.”
“Anywhere but Freeport. Isn’t that what you mean?” she pressed. She had introduced the possibility of settling in Freeport when he’d come to visit during her father’s recovery, but he had shut it down. Brandon was a city boy, through and through. Freeport’s small-town way of life was a joke to him.
“Why limit ourselves? Why not try a place that’s new to both of us?”
This was a new twist.
“What about the brownstone? Your parents? The city?” Emily had learned that Brandon’s loyalties lay with his beloved life in Chicago. She was just the pretty add-on.
“Just come back to Chicago and we’ll figure it all out together.”
“Clearly I’m not in the right state of mind to make that decision. You understand that, right?” This babbling, begging version of her former fiancé added to the surrealness of the day. Her thoughts began to swirl again, impervious to capture. Is this really happening right now? Where are Nick and Cathy to save me from this conversation!
The piped-in organ music further contributed to the silent-movie melodrama of the moment.
“Okay. Okay. We can move to Freeport,” he blurted out. “I’ll see if I can get out of my contract early. I’ll start a practice here. I can make this work.” He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “Please, Em. I miss you.”
Emily’s eyes blinked wide with overwhelm. “I don’t know what to say.” She exhaled and felt her rib cage release a little pressure. “I have no idea what the future holds. I have no idea how long I’ll be here. If I even want to stay.”
“You have to return to Chicago. To finish your residency.”
“I guess. Maybe.” She should. Right? She had worked so hard for it. Only two more years to go.
The side door swooshed opened and Nick stepped into the lobby. “We had to get some more chairs from the cellar,” he said, his eyes landing on Emily’s hands as they slipped from Brandon’s. She detected Nick’s perturbed look as he lasered his focus on Brandon. They faced each other, caught in the awkwardness of the moment.
“We should get Emily seated,” said Nick.
Brandon’s nervousness was replaced by an annoyed expression, but before he had a chance to take the conversation further, Cathy whisked in with a professional stride from a side door in the lobby that connected to the main viewing area where her father’s casket lay.
“Okay. We’re ready. You?” Cathy took Emily gently by the shoulders.
“No one’s ever ready for a day like this.”
Emily knew from the dampness around her hairline that Cathy had been working overtime on Dad’s funeral. That’s what you did in small towns—you pitched in because you had to. But she knew Cathy didn’t mind; she wouldn’t have been satisfied sitting around feeling gloomy and depressed while every guest around reminded her how gloomy and depressed she should feel.
“You’re amazing. Thank you for making this so special. I know you’re hurting, too.” Emily gave Cathy a little squeeze and noticed tears filling her eyes.
She quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand. “You should see all the arrangements inside. Like a botanical garden in there. Your dad would’ve loved it.”
“It’s too many for us to take home. Can you bring some to the nursing home and hospital? They love the fresh flowers,” said Emily, the lump returning.
“Absolutely. Come on. I have a seat for us and Nick in the front,” said Cathy in a quiet tone.
“Ms. Bishop. My condolences.”
Emily noticed Cathy glance over her shoulder as Brandon came between them and gave Cathy a firm handshake.
“Brandon, if I would have known you were coming, I could have set an extra chair for you in front. But I’m afraid it’s full down in front. You can slide in in the back.”
Emily could read Brandon’s disappointment, but she knew Cathy was protecting her. She felt Cathy’s gentle tug as she pulled her away from Brandon and Nick. Emily didn’t care in the moment what they said to each other, to her, or where they sat. She grabbed tightly onto Cathy’s warm, strong arm, a safe and sturdy haven. That’s all she needed right now to get through the next few hours.
4
After the funeral, the guests proceeded to the veterans’ hall in downtown Freeport for the reception Jo Blakely and friends had prepared. Emily wanted a few minutes alone with her father before Cathy closed the casket. They would do a private burial the next morning at the cemetery, and her father would be laid to rest next to her mother, Mary, who had passed thirteen years ago.
Nick and Brandon hung back and helped Cathy load the floral arrangements into the hearse so they could deliver most of them to the hospital and nursing home. Cathy closed the French doors to the viewing room so Emily could have privacy.
Emily stepped up to her father’s casket and touched his cold, ru
bbery hands folded across his abdomen. Hands that had done so much in their lifetime. Hands that had taught her so much.
“Dad, I don’t think I ever thanked you enough for everything you did for me.” Her voice hiccupped, and she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry for the lost years in between then and now. I know we can’t ever make those up. I regret that.” She drew in a couple of deep breaths to try to calm her nerves, which were quaking. “I’m really confused by what you told me. And I’m really scared about what I might find. But I know it’s important, and I know you wanted to give me the truth. I just wish you were here to explain it.” So many conflicting emotions were trying to sort their way to the surface. “I want you to know I’ll look into it. I hope what I find doesn’t … I don’t even know how to put it … I just don’t want to think badly of you again. And I’m afraid that what I find might do that.”
She stopped, utterly exhausted. She let her head drop as a little sob shook her chest. “I thought we’d have more time. I’m gonna miss you, Dad.”
Her body convulsed with grief, and tears blurred her vision. She stepped away from the casket and fell into a plush armchair to the side. After a good amount of tears had fallen, she reached for the tissue box on the side table. Cathy always kept the place stocked in tissues. Emily wiped her face, figuring her mascara had created dark blotches under her bloodshot eyes. She would have to use the bathroom to wash them the rest of the way off before heading to the veterans’ hall for the reception.
She gave her nose a good blow and took several more inhales and exhales. Soon Cathy would be in, ready to shuttle her to the reception, where she would have to face the masses who loved her father. She would have to sit through endless stories about the kind of father she had never gotten to experience. How beautiful it was that there had been so many who respected and adored him. But should they respect him? And would they continue to, once they found out about this other woman? How would they feel about their beloved Doc then? How would she feel?
Secret Remains Page 2