Gone.
The word rattled around in Matt's head like a runaway cartoon figure in a video game. Gone. The word wounded and stung. His grandmother Maria had always been there. She loved him, cared for him, remembered him on his birthdays. And now she was dismissed with a simple one-syllable word. Gone.
Matt beat on the dashboard while he whizzed down the narrow side roads. He had always loved Maria and never questioned the fact she loved him. How could anyone have shot and killed his grandmother? She was the most wonderful person in the world.
Cars shot past him like little meteors, flashing through a dark sky. Overhead the moon had an extremely strange cast, giving it a crimson glow in a totally black sky. Matt didn't want to think about why the night had taken on such a macabre look. He tried to concentrate on driving, but he kept thinking about his grandmother and the good times they had shared back before George and Jeff were born. He remembered that Mary had only been a small child when they went to see Maria in Peoria.
“Why, here's my little bundle of joy,” Maria said and Picked up little Matt. She had tickled him under the chin. “Have you come to Grandmother's for a big turkey dinner?”
“It's Thanksgiving!” eight-year-old Matt said. “Yes and I'm hungry.”
“Well, it is indeed.” Maria carried him into the kitchen. “Unfortunately, we don't start the feast until this evening.” Maria sat him down on the edge of the cabinet top. “But I think we need to make sure that the desserts are ready.” She stuck a fork in one of the pies sitting a couple of feet from Matt, and cut off a fat piece filled with cherries. “Would you like a small bite?”
“Oh, yes!” Little Matt grinned ear to ear.
“Open your mouth wide.” Maria put the pie into his mouth. “Now how does that taste?”
Matt chewed for a moment. “Oh, Grammy! That was wonderful.”
“Good!” Maria winked at him. “I would have had to throw the whole pie out if you didn't like it.”
“Really?”
“Of course!”
Matt remembered how Maria always made him feel special, exceptional, the king of the house. Of course, she wouldn't have thrown the pie out, but Matt didn't know it when he was eight years old. She made Matt think everything he said was law.
He abruptly laughed at himself. Maybe the back roads journey home was worth the extra distance because he had more time to remember the incidents that meant so much to him as a child and that seemed to comfort him.
Maria didn't let him get away with much and neither did his parents. Matt was raised with more discipline than most of his friends. Maria's hand was unseen, but evident in how his parents reared Matthew. He didn't like the raps on the knuckles, but the extra attention made a difference at school. He was soon known as an outstanding student and that made it possible for him to enter an exceptional university like Northwestern. Probably the added attention was one of the reasons he stayed with mathematics as his major at the university.
And now Maria was gone.
Tears rolled down Matt's cheeks. The idea that Maria had disappeared was gut wrenching and intolerable. The pitch-black interior of his car sealed him off from the rest of the world. No one could see him now. Matt sobbed while the car raced through the night.
He resisted being known as a sensitive person, but in truth, Matt was extremely sensitive. Maria never quite understood that side of his personality, but she respected the fact that little things could make tears swell up in eyes. A slight, someone's personal pain, recognizing when people were lonely, issues that were small to someone else, all this affected him deeply.
And Matt's heart was touched when Grandfather Peck, Maria's husband, died, Matt was barely nine years old when Albert died of a heat attack. Matthew didn't know him nearly as well as he knew his grandmother. People tended to call the white-haired old man simply Al, and Matt knew his father respected Albert, even though there was some distance between them.
Matt went down to the funeral home in Peoria with his father. The house looked huge, towering over him like a medieval haunted house where bats flew in and out of ironbarred windows. The interior of this terrifying Bastille was filled with dark shadows hovering across hallways that looked endlessly long. He and his father went to one of the back rooms where the long, brown box with brass handless lay on a metal gurney.
Matt's face reached only slightly above the edge of the casket, and when he peered over the side, his nose was only inches from his grandfather's ear. He remembered how Al's eyes seemed to be sealed shut with glue. Grandpa Albert's cheeks were puffy, and looked hard like a piece of sagging clay. His face had turned into a lifeless mannequin. Everything about the scene was grotesque for a little boy. Matthew remembered shrinking back and wanting to run, but his father caught him by the arm.
“It's okay,” Graham said. “You don't need to be afraid.” He kept a firm hand on Matt's arm. “Grandfather's fine.”
But matt was afraid, and even to this day he dreaded a funeral. He didn't want to see his grandmother stretched out like Albert had been and hoped the family would come up with something better than another trip to one of those awful funeral homes, but they probably wouldn't.
Matt knew it was a problem. Since all of those people disappeared in a flash, almost every church was closed. Of course, the peck family never attended a church anyway, but they didn't have many alternatives to a service in a place like where they had kept Grandfather Albert. Matt didn't like those alternatives in any way, shape, or form.
Paying no attention to the television/radar speed monitors, he drove through town far too fast. Still, Matt pulled into the outskirts of Arlington Heights later than he wished. his grandmother's death scrambled and changed everything in the world of the peck family. Matthew knew big adjustments lay ahead for all of them.
Matt turned off his car and started to walk slowly toward the house. After only a few steps, he broke into a run. he grabbed the front door and burst into the living room.
His mother sat on the couch with her eyes closed, holding George in her lap. He hadn't seen them in at least five weeks and expected some sort of special welcome, but George didn't move. He didn't even blink his eyes. his mother slowly opened her eyes and looked at him remorsefully.
“Mom?” said Matt, quietly.
“Come in Matt,” Jackie said. “Sit down.”
George still made no movement. He looked disconnected and mute.
Matt walked slowly across the room. “I heard…” He stopped. “I heard what happened,” he said more definitely.
“Yes. Your grandmother is gone.”
The word came back again to Matthew with the same hollow depressing sound he had felt earlier in the day. He couldn't answer.
All he could say was an affirmation. “Gone.”
Matt sat down across from her and looked at George, who seemed to be gone as well.
CHAPTER 12
THE ROOF GROANED and cracked under the force of a cold wind blowing over it, dead in the middle of the night. An eerie glow from the moon cast long shadows across every bedroom in the Pecks' house. A red reflection bounced off the window. The night was long and difficult. Matthew stayed in his old bedroom across the and hall from Mary while Jeff curled up in a pallet at the end of Mary's bed. George slept between his mother and father. No one really fell asleep until well past midnight.
At 7:30 the next morning, Graham's bedside telephone rang. After the second ring, he stuck his arm out from under the blanket and picked up the receiver from the nightstand. “Hello.” His voice sounded groggy.
“Graham? Is that you?” the deep, resonant voice asked.
“Frank?”
“Graham, a few moments ago I heard what happened to your mother. Graham, this tragedy breaks my heart.”
Graham pushed himself up in the bed. “Frank, I'm sorry to sound so blurry. We didn't get much sleep last night and I'm afraid I'm not up to my usual self.”
“Graham, don't give it a thought. I wanted you to know that
all of the resources of the city of Chicago are at your family's disposal. I'll tell the police commissioner to pull out the stops on this case. I'm demanding they find the lowlife scum who had done this reprehensible act.”
“Thank you, mayor. Our entire family appreciates your concern.”
“What can we do for you personally, Graham?”
“I won't be at the office today. I hope that's not a problem”
“Well,” the mayor said hesitantly, “we have hard time making everything work right when you aren't here, but everyone certainly understands. Take as much time as you need.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Graham, what about your security system? You know we have your electronic devices hooked up with our central network for ultra-security. I would have expected an alarm to have gone off down here where our police network operates.”
“Mom had the garage door open and that would have shut the system down. As best we could tell, the system was turned off in the morning and never flipped back on. We simply weren't operational.”
“I see,” the mayor said. “One simply can't be too careful.”
“How sadly true,” Graham said. “The times are tough and dangerous. We're paying the price.”
“Yes,” Bridges agreed. “Crime is everywhere. Well, remember our best thoughts are with you and call me if I can be of any help. Share my condolences with Jackie.”
“I will, Frank.” Graham hung up the phone and turned to his wife. Jackie's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. “That was the mayor, expressing his condolences.”
“Yes. I heard.”
Graham didn't say anything more for five minutes. He lay quietly with his eyes closed. George stirred next to him. The child felt small and still.
“I think we need to get up.” Jackie finally broke the silence. “The rest of the children will be downstairs.”
“yes,” Graham eventually said and turned the blanket back, letting his feet drop on the floor. “Last night was terrible. Beyond terrible.”
“The sky looked so strange,” Jackie said. “Bizarre… the red glow. I simply don't know how to describe it.”
Graham stood up. “I'm not sure if I can go on today, Jackie.”
“We have to.” Jackie looked out the window. “We have to,” she repeated.
Graham didn't answer, but walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water splattered against the door. Graham leaned against the glass, pressing his head against the pane and listening to the pounding of the water. The shower sounded certain and predictable. If there was anything he needed, it was something certain and predictable.
When Graham came downstairs, Matthew was sitting at the kitchen table with George next to him. George had on his bathrobe and silently stared at the tabletop. He had slipped into the chair at the end of the long table.
“Good morning, boys,” Graham said.
“Good morning, Dad,” Matt answered.
Graham leaned forward and put his hand on little George's shoulder. “Good morning, son.”
George looked up. His eyes weren't as blank as they had been last night, but he still looked disengaged. For a moment he stared at his father as if waiting for the right words to come out by themselves. “Yes,” he finally said.
Graham sighed. “Good. Good. Can you talk to me, George?”
George frowned and this eyes teared up. “I… I… think so.”
“Fine.” Graham patted him on the hand. “I'm glad to hear it.”
“Dad,” Matt said. “What are we going to do?”
Graham ran his hand through his hair. “We have to take it one step at a time today, son. We have to be tough.”
Mary came in leading Jeff by the hand. She sat down and put Jeff next to her. Mary had on an old sweatshirt and Jeff was still wearing his pajamas. Jackie followed them with her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She looked plain, drawn, and worn.
“Grammy always fixed breakfast,” Mary said and sniffed. “Now we have to do it for ourselves.”
Nobody said anything.
Finally Matthew asked, “All the churches I know about are empty and closed. How can we have a service for Grammy?”
Graham looked at Jackie. “That's the last problem I've thought about, but Matthew has a point. Apparently most churches are locked up.”
Jackie didn't answer. Her eyes looked almost as empty as George's did.
“I mean,” Matt muttered, “I don't know… after all…” He stopped.
“Son, the funeral homes have rooms, auditoriums,” Graham said. “I'm sure we can work out something with them.”
The family sat at the table, staring into space with each person thinking about their own special set of memories. No one said anything for several minutes.
“I never thought about death.” Matthew finally broke the silence. “In fact, other than Grandfather Albert's service, I've never even been to a funeral. Of course, I was young then. I didn't even know what to think about someone dying.”
Jackie nodded. “My parents died before you children were born. They were killed in a car wreck.” She shook her head and covered her eyes. “It was a terrible, terrible experience. I guess we avoided talking about death after the accident.” Jackie looked at Matthew. “We never talked about the subject with you children.”
“It's been like a topic that didn't exist,” Matthew said. “Always unmentioned. I don't know anybody at college who ever brought up the issue. Death simply hasn't been in any of our discussions.” He cleared his throat. “But I need to know what it means when someone dies.”
Silence settled over the kitchen again.
“George,” Graham said, “maybe you would like to go in the other room?”
George looked up slowly. He shook his head.
“You want to stay with us?” Jackie asked.
George nodded very slightly.
“Matthew, I don't know how to respond,” Graham said. “No one ever sat down and gave me any input on this subject and maybe I avoided thinking about it.” He gestured aimlessly. “I guess that I assumed people's lives just stopped. Ended. You know… they were gone.”
“Grammy's gone?” Matthew protested. “Only gone? I can't accept that idea. My precious grandmother can't simply have disappeared like a dinosaur vanishing. I simply can't handle that.”
“Matthew, we don't have to decide this issue this morning,” Jackie pleaded. “We're trying to keep from going over the edge ourselves, son. It's way too early to think about a philosophical problem.”
Matthew shook his head. “I don't buy it! I know we have a lot of problems to deal with and I'm sure you and Dad have to make hard decisions, but I've got to know what's happened to my grandmother. She was good to the core and she loved us. Grammy did everything she could to teach us how to be decent, respectful people. I can't accept the idea that her life stopped like a car running out of gas.” He pointed his finger in rapid staccato motions. “I need a better explanation.”
Graham nodded. “I understand, Matt. The problem is that I don't have anything better to tell you at this moment. I'm sorry. Our family didn't pay any attention to religious matters. Maybe we should have, but your mother and I simply aren't prepared to answer your questions. That's the best we can say.”
Matthew pushed back from the table and scowled.
“Son, your father is not trying to be difficult. He's telling you the truth.”
“Okay.” Matthew rubbed his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'll accept what you're saying for right now, but I want you to know that I'm not going to let this matter die. I intend to find out what happens when a person's heart quits beating. I'm sure somebody at the university, at the funeral home, someone out there somewhere has some insight and I'm going to find it.”
“Sure, Matthew,” Graham said. “I want you to find out, but right now I can't say much of anything. I'm drained. That's the best I can do.”
Jackie reached over and took George's hand. “The police will
probably come back this morning. I know they will want to talk with you, son. Do you think you'll be able to talk to the officers?”
Tears started to roll down George's cheeks. He looked blankly at this mother.
“That's okay, son,” Graham insisted. “No one's going to make any of us do more than we can.”
“We must all get dressed,” Jackie said. “We will have to go to the funeral home first thing today.” She looked around the table at each of the forlorn children. “Of course, no one has to go. If you want to stay here, you can.”
George slowly lowered his head and looked at the floor. He made a slow shaking motion.
“You don't want to go?” Jackie asked.
“No, he doesn't,” Mary said.
George kept looking at the floor, saying nothing.
“Okay,” Graham said, “we'll leave the three younger children at home.”
Mary looked relieved.
CHAPTER 13
MATTHEW OPENED THE DOOR for Graham and Jackie to walk into Cassoday's Funeral Home. The foyer was orderly, clean to the point of smelling sterile, and extremely quiet.
“you think it was okay to leave the children at home with Mary?” Jackie asked.
“It's all we could do,” Graham answered, “but I know she'll take care of them properly. She'll certainly keep the doors locked and the security alarm on.”
“Sure,” Matt added. “George and Jeff didn't need to be down here with us; besides, they're too stressed to give her any trouble.”
A woman who looked to be in her sixties stepped out of an office at the far end of the foyer. Wearing a dark blue suit, she looked like a person who officiated at funerals. With quick, certain steps she walked toward the family.
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