“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but your father died of a massive heart attack. I’m very sorry.”
Nate ground his teeth together, unable to speak.
“I understand you were with him,” the doctor added. “I want you to know that you did everything you could have done, too. The kind of episode your father had is what we call ‘catastrophic.’ If he’d been on the operating table when the heart attack occurred, we still may not have been able to save him.”
Nate knew that she said this so that he wouldn’t feel responsible, and a part of him was grateful, but her news also meant that Richland had been doomed. They had all been doomed.
“Mr. Bradley, what funeral home should we contact for your father,” Dr. Arceneaux asked gently.
“I don’t know.” Nate folded over again and covered his face with his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
“Is there someone you could call? A family member?” she asked.
Nate shook his head.
“My mom is autistic.” Nate’s voice broke on the words. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell her.”
He tried to hold down the sobs, but they broke through anyway. He felt the doctor’s hand on his shoulder again, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at her. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the waiting room trained on him.
“Stay right here. I think I know someone who may be able to help you,” she whispered. And then she was gone.
Nate’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reached back for it.
Thursday, Aug. 21 12:47 p.m.
Just had lunch at the LBC (union). They have soymilk!!!
How’s your day? Did I mention that I’m totally in love with you?
Nate stared at his phone through the blur of his tears. The message reminded him that there was something beyond his doom, beyond this terrible fear that seemed to gnaw at him from the inside. That, alone, allowed him to draw a full breath and let it out slowly.
He couldn’t tell her what happened. Not yet. Telling her would make it even more real. And he knew that as soon as she got the news, she’d rush back to be with him. He had to tell her, but he could wait until tonight.
Thursday, Aug. 21 12:49 p.m.
Sad day. But I love you more than anything.
Nate dried his eyes against his shirtsleeve and took another deep breath. Breathing felt good. Like he’d never done it before. He closed his eyes and tried to hone in on what made his breath — as familiar a thing as could be — suddenly seem new.
He was feeling the stretch of his lungs when he heard someone approach. Nate opened his eyes to see a white-haired priest standing in front of him.
Oh, great. This will help.
The man offered his hand.
“I’m Father Gabe. Are you Mr. Bradley?” The man had a voice that sounded like someone shoveling gravel.
Nate shook hands.
“Yeah. It’s Nate,” he said, unwilling to offer more than that.
Father Gabe watched him with sad eyes.
“Dr. Arceneaux said that perhaps I might be able to help you. I understand you’ve just lost your father.”
Nate nodded, feeling a familiar bitterness set in his jaw.
“I did, but I don’t need any prayers, Father, and I’ve got a lot to sort out, so—”
“Well, I’m of the mind that we all need prayers, but that part can wait,” the priest interjected, a gruff, determined tone heavy in his voice. “It’s the sorting out part I came to help with. Dr. Arceneaux said you have a special situation at home. Aside from the collar, I’ve got a master’s degree in social work. Maybe I could help you talk to your mom.”
Nate stared, swallowed, and had the good grace to blush.
“I’m… sorry, sir… for my rudeness.” He blew out a breath and felt his tears trying to return. Someone to help him tell Lila was what he needed most right now. “That would be… very kind.”
“Do you need a ride home?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I need that, too.” It was humbling. Years of fostering a solid and caustic hatred of Catholic school — and, therefore, all things Catholic — suddenly seemed childish and arrogant.
“Well, let’s go then.” Father Gabe said, surprising Nate with his no-nonsense manner. Nate got to his feet and followed the priest, whose quick step reminded him of Mrs. Ester’s.
“You and your father were working when he collapsed, is that right?”
“Yes… yes, we were.” Nate pictured the chaos of the scene. The job unfinished. The company truck, trailer, and all manner of equipment still parked on the curb.
“What kind of work?” Father Gabe asked, walking so quickly, Nate had to stretch out his stride to keep up.
“Landscape and lawn. My father owns… owned a company.”
Father Gabe regarded him quietly as they stepped out of the hospital into the parking lot.
“Is there anyone at the company who needs to be notified? Someone you could call now to help with that end of things?”
Richland had two other employees who made up a second crew, brothers who were working themselves through college. Dean and Kevin Crowley. They were handling a job on Shannon Road.
“Yeah,” Nate answered. “I should probably call them.”
Father Gabe led them to a small, faded blue Dodge Neon. It smelled like old person. Like Nana Grace’s house.
“Shit! Nana Grace!” Nate gasped.
“What’s that, son?”
“Richland’s — my father’s mother — I need to tell her, too.”
“We’ll get to that. First things first. Call your fellow workers and get the first one out of your system.”
Nate sighed, grabbed his phone, and dialed Dean.
“Hey, man. Y’all coming to help us finish up?” Dean asked, sounding excited. Nate knew the yard on Shannon was huge, and they could probably use help, but he couldn’t think about that.
“Uh… No, Dean… Something’s… Something’s happened,” he started, finding the words difficult to string together.
“What’s wrong? Y’all hit a pipe?”
Nate’s throat tightened. How could he say what he didn’t even want to believe?
“No… No… It’s Richland…” He heard the choked sound of his voice, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Breathe… Breathe, idiot.
“What do you mean? Is he hurt?” Something had changed in Dean’s voice, too. A kind of realization that nothing was normal.
Nate needed to get this over with.
“He… He had a heart attack this morning… on the job site.” Nate swallowed and cleared his throat, tasting tears. “Um… he didn’t survive.”
“No way…” Dean said in a hushed voice.
“It was fast… It was…” Awful. Terrifying. Fucked up. “Bad.”
“Nate… Holy shit, man. I can’t believe it. Are you okay?”
This question was impossible to answer. He was so far from okay he couldn’t remember what the word meant.
“I’m dealing.”
“Well, what can we do? Do you want us to come meet you? Does your mom know?”
Nate squeezed his eyes shut.
“Dean, what I really need right now is for you guys to get the rig we left in Arbolada… on Buena Vista,” he said, glad to be able to get the words out without breaking down. “Get that stuff and bring it to the house, and then I need you to finish the Shannon Road job.”
“Sure thing, Nate,” Dean said gently. “We’ll finish the French drain and then take the rig back. I’ve got a buddy who can help us. And Nate?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m real sorry… Richland… He was a great guy.” Nate heard it in Dean’s voice, the catch that said it mattered to him that his father was gone. It threatened to undo him.
“Yeah, thanks,” he managed.
“And Nate? If this means you have to fire us, it’s cool, man. We understand.”
Dean’s words made his head s
nap back.
The business.
What the fuck is going to happen?
“Thanks, Dean… I don’t know… I don’t know what the hell this means.”
Nate hung up before he could freak out any more.
****
“NO! NO! NO! NO! No! No! No!” Lila clutched her arms around herself and rocked manically.
Even with Father Gabe there beside him, telling Lila that Richland was gone was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d seen her cry before, but it was nothing like this. Nate wanted to fall to his knees.
Lila knew what death was. She had lost both her parents before Nate turned thirteen. She knew it meant Richland was gone forever. Nate covered his ears to block out her pain. He wanted to run out the front door and never come back.
How would they get through this?
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No!”
Even with his ears covered, Lila’s suffering slayed him. He looked over at Father Gabe to see him deep in prayer.
“I don’t think that’s helping,” Nate snapped, unable to stop himself.
Without looking up, Father Gabe crossed himself, and then he let his eyes meet Nate’s.
“Well, it’s helping me,” the old man grumbled.
Nate blinked.
“I guess I deserved that,” he muttered, again ashamed of his behavior.
Father Gabe shook his head dismissively.
“What usually calms her down?” he asked, over Lila’s unbroken chanting of “No!”
Nate felt his body sag.
“Richland.”
Father Gabe gave him a sad smile.
“What else?”
Nate sighed. There were other things, but none so good as the man who’d made them a family.
“Tea… Gardening… Jazz…”
Father Gabe’s eyes lit up.
“Go make some tea.”
To Nate’s shock, the priest pulled an iPhone out of his pants pocket.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” Lila continued, unceasing, unwavering.
“Tea, Nate. Go. Now.”
Nate didn’t need more than that. He ducked into the kitchen, glad for even the short distance away from Lila’s cries. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. A moment later, a piano. Four notes counting up almost in time with Lila’s one word. Again and again. When strings and flute joined in, Lila synched her voice with it exactly.
The sound reminded Nate of an hour hand on a clock showing the passage of time in a black and white movie.
And then a mournful trombone, smoothing over the beat.
The four note motif faded into the background, and Lila’s voice softened to match. She still rocked in her chair, but to a rhythm within the lamenting piece. When the trombone expressed it’s great sadness and the other instruments in the orchestra wept along with it, Lila took a shuddering breath and just listened, tears running down her face.
The song ended the way it began, and Father Gabe tapped the screen on the phone to play it again. When he offered the device to Lila, she took it and rocked herself slowly.
Father Gabe stepped into the kitchen, and Nate took the kettle off the stove before the whistle could startle her.
“What was that?” he whispered.
“‘Where Flamingos Fly.’ Gil Evans,” Father Gabe whispered back, looking rather proud.
When Nate handed a mug of chamomile to his mother, she took it from him, cuddled it to her, and played the song again.
****
“OH, GOD, NATE!” BLYTHE sobbed into the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have been home by now.”
Nate shut his eyes and sunk to the foot of his bed. Lila was asleep, thanks to Father Gabe’s suggestion that Nate call her internist for a prescription. Just for a couple of nights. Nate couldn’t think beyond that, but a couple of nights now seemed eternal. It had been only nine hours since Richland’s death, but to Nate, it felt like a thousand years.
He’d never been so exhausted.
“Blythe, please don’t be angry. I can only deal with one thing at a time.”
“I’m not angry, baby. Of course not,” she said, tears thick in her voice. “But I could be there to help you… To take care of you.”
“Mmm,” Nate moaned at her words, weakening. If she were in his arms, he’d be better, less afraid. “I miss you so much…”
“I’m on my way. I’ll leave right now.”
His eyes snapped open.
“No. No, Blythe. It’s after nine. I don’t want you driving over the basin in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be home in two and half hours. I’ll be—”
Nate got to his feet.
“Blythe, no! Your Toyota is almost as old as you are. You could break down or blow a tire. It’s too dangerous.” The thought of her alone, stranded on the twenty-mile stretch of interstate over the Atchafalaya Basin, made him shudder.
He heard her huff in frustration.
“Nate, don’t be ridiculous. Those things could happen in the daytime, too. I’ll be fine—”
“Damnit, Blythe! Don’t you fucking get in that car!” he shouted. He’d never yelled at her before. Nate Bradley almost never yelled. He was losing his mind.
Silence.
“Shit, Blythe. I’m sorry…”
“No, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, angel… But I’ve already lost somebody today. I can’t be worried about losing you.”
“It’s okay. I get it,” she said, sniffling. “I’ll come tomorrow.”
Nate sighed.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, softly.
“Fuck you. I’m doing it.” She threw back.
In spite of himself, Nate laughed. He knew her curse was only half serious, but he felt better when he heard her laughing, too.
“I. Love. You.”
“I love you, too.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Nate? Do you know if Richland had life insurance or anything like that?” He could hear the hesitation in her voice, but she wasn’t bringing up something he hadn’t already asked himself. In the moments when he wasn’t giving someone else the news or dealing with Lila, Nate couldn’t stop wondering how they were going to manage now.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. He collapsed on his bed again, wanting to drown in sleep.
“Do you know… Have you made funeral arrangements…?”
This Nate could answer.
“Nana Grace is coming in the morning. She said she’d take care of that… Thank God.”
“Poor Nana Grace…”
“Yeah…”
“And poor Lila. And poor you,” Blythe said, her voice breaking again. “Nate… I’m so sorry.”
He’d wept off and on all day, but hearing her cry for him wrenched something open. The bed shook as he cried and cried. Nate could hear her breathy sobs matching his own.
“Do you know…” he began when he could master his voice again. “Do you know what he said at the end? He said Lila’s name. He didn’t want to leave her, Blythe. He looked so sad…”
“Oh, Nate,” she whispered.
“God, I’ve always known that I owed him so much,” Nate said, sniffing and wiping his raw eyes. “But now that he’s gone, I realize that he was… just extraordinary. A saint, really. Everything he did was for us. And I never told him how grateful I was.”
“Nate, he knew,” Blythe promised. “You worked side by side for years. You were a good son to him.”
Nate shook his head. The silenced stretched out between them.
“You should get some rest, Nate,” Blythe said, finally. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”
He grunted in assent. He wanted to sleep for a month.
“I’ll be there early. I promise.”
****
BLYTHE KEPT HER PROMISE.
Nate awoke to her curling up against him. He pulled her into his arms, completely surprised.
/> “What time is it?” The sight of her chased away the demons that had tormented him all night. Even as tired as he was, Nate kept startling awake in the darkness, the shock of Richland’s death breaking through his slumber countless times.
“It’s a little after seven,” she whispered, smiling at his mystified stare and running her hand through his stubble. “I left at five, but don’t worry. The sunrise came well before I made it to the basin bridge.”
Nate stroked the length of her caramel hair and let himself take in the blue of her eyes.
“I’m sorry you’re missing Orientation, but I’m so glad you’re here.”
Blythe’s mouth bunched, and she shook her head.
“Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else. I’m glad to be here, and I’m bringing reinforcements. Mom’s making a crab bisque for tonight and a brisket with brown rice and gravy for tomorrow…”
Lila’s food rules. Alexandra Barnes was honoring them. Awe, shocking and humbling, washed over him.
“You told her what to make?” Nate asked, knowing the answer and loving the woman in his arms more every second he knew her.
Blythe shrugged, but the smile gave her away.
“And my dad is coming by, too. He wants to help.” The way her voice dropped made him wonder.
“Help how?”
Blythe drew a long inhale and regarded him carefully.
“I hope you don’t mind… but I told him that you didn’t know if Richland had life insurance or anything set up in case something like this happened.” Blythe looked a little nervous. “I asked him to come over and see if he could help you figure that out.”
“Wow…”
Blythe chewed her lip.
“What? Am I interfering too much? I can tell him you don’t need it if—”
He squeezed her shoulder and ran his hand up and down her arm.
“Blythe, I do need it,” he told her, truthfully. “I’m totally lost. I don’t have a clue where to begin.”
Her look of relief was immediate.
“Okay… He’ll come by after he finishes his route.”
Nate found himself smiling, seeing Blythe with new eyes.
“You’re really good in a crisis.”
Her face changed, her eyes so full of sorrow.
“I wish you didn’t have to go through this.”
“Me, too.” Nate could wish all he wanted, but this nightmare wasn’t going to end. “Was Lila awake when you came in?”
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