“Wonderful, as usual. But careful, this is really hot.” She turned around and walked over to the kitchen table to rest the steamy lasagna on top of the pot holder in the middle of the table. “Now, dear. I’ll take my hug.”
Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around his mother before kissing her forehead.
Every time Kate saw him do it, it pinched a little part of her heart. It wasn’t jealousy. More like her own faint memories of simpler times pinging in her chest, trying to resurface. The pleasures and comforts of having a mother had long ago disappeared from Kate’s life, so joining Luke and his mom in their home made her nothing but joyful and grateful.
“Come on, Kate. You know the rules. I make you guys dinner, but you pay me back in hugs. Pay up, Kate!”
The daily charade was cheesy, but it was what they did. She hugged the woman who’d raised the man she loved.
“And you have to stop calling me Mrs. O’Brien!” After the hug ended, she turned to her son. “Luke, please make her call me Marjorie. She won’t listen to me.”
Luke raised his palms in the air before taking a seat at the table. “That’s between the two of you, I’m afraid.”
“I promise I’ll work on it! It’s just that I’ve known you as Mrs. O’Brien since I was a kid! It’s a little weird,” Kate said as she opened the cupboard where they stored the alcohol. “Who wants red wine?”
Her dinner cohorts replied in the affirmative, so she grabbed the bottle, along with three glasses, and brought it all to the table.
“Do you mind grabbing the salad from the fridge, Katie?” Mrs. O’Brien asked.
“Not at all.”
A minute later, with a decadent dinner spread in front of them, Mrs. O’Brien reached to grab Luke’s and Kate’s hands, then lowered her head.
“Dear Lord, thank you for bringing my Luke and his Katie home safely. I know they both work hard to make this world a better place. Thank you for providing us with the means to feed ourselves and live in such a wonderful, safe home. Thank you to the farmers who grew this food and to the merchants who brought it to us. Bless us, Lord, and bless the food we are about to receive. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” Luke said while Kate stared at her food, her mind wandering.
He kicked her under the table.
“Ouch!” Kate said, her eyes sending daggers toward her boyfriend. But she’d understood the message. “Amen!” she said before smiling at Mrs. O’Brien. “Let’s dig in! I’m starving.”
Chapter Three
Luke O’Brien was sitting in bed with his computer on his lap when the en-suite bathroom door opened. Surrounded by a mist of steam, the woman he loved walked out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her petite frame and another tied around her head.
“All yours,” she said as she undid her turban and let her wet blonde hair dangle down to her shoulders.
While the bigger part of him wanted nothing more than to make love to her, he talked himself out of it. At least for a few minutes until he could discuss his idea with her.
He closed his laptop and set it aside while she traded her wet towel for one of his large T-shirts. Seconds later, she’d hopped onto the bed.
“Do you think you can be really quiet? I think your mom’s still awake.”
“Kate…” He bit his lip, then exhaled loudly, closing his eyes to muster some courage.
“What’s up? You’re acting all weird.”
He reopened his eyes and moved to sit in front of her. He rubbed his hands against her shoulders, as though trying to protect her from what he was about to say. Or possibly to protect himself from her reaction. He didn’t know which of the two he feared the most.
“Luko, you’re starting to freak me out.”
She’d used his childhood nickname, which eased him into finally talking.
“Okay. Please promise you won’t get upset at me for what I’m about to suggest.”
“Why would I get upset? Is this about me tuning out while your mom was saying grace? I’m sorry about that. I was just thinking about something else. I respect her. I promise I’ll pay attention next time.” She extended her leg. “I think I’ll get a bruise out of your kick, though. Not cool, mister!”
“Come on, Kate. I didn’t kick you that hard. You know it.”
“Just kidding.” She brushed his lips with a kiss. “What do you want to tell me?”
He exhaled loudly. “Well, two things, actually.”
“Okay. Bad news, good news? Start with the bad.”
“No, no.” He shook his head, even though the movement didn’t ease what he was about to do. Good thing he spent most of his time in a lab, avoiding the social interactions some people enjoyed so much, for whatever reason. “Here goes. You know the nightmares you keep having?”
As though his words had deflated her body, she shriveled away from him and leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah. Hard to forget about them.” She scrunched up her nose. “Do you have problems sleeping because of me having nightmares next to you? ’Cause if it’s bothering you, I can go back to living in my own place.”
“No, Katie. That’s not where I’m going with this. I love you sleeping next to me. I love waking up next to you. I don’t want to change that.”
She lifted her shoulders and frowned. “Then what’s your point?”
“Well, first, a colleague of mine recommended a hypnotherapist—”
“What? You talked about my nightmares to your colleagues at work?” Kate’s volume had raised a notch, and Luke moved closer to her.
“No, don’t worry. I know how you feel about it. Totally random how it came up. This guy, Frank, he’s been trying to quit smoking for years. Decades, even. I can’t remember him without a cigarette in his mouth. Anyways, he mentioned how he’s been smoke-free for nearly a month now. And without cravings.”
“So? It’s not like I can will myself to stop dreaming, no matter how good this therapist is.”
Luke nodded. “I know, I know. But turns out a big part of this lady’s process involves taking her patients back through their past and identifying the trigger that started their smoking in the first place.”
“Okay. Still not following.”
“She’s really good at helping people work through the past.”
“And…” Kate squinted as though she knew where Luke was headed.
“While it would not be pleasant—far from it—I just thought that, with proper guidance from this hypnotherapist, you might be able to remember details that you may have pushed away in the dark corners of your mind.”
She brought her hands up to her face, hiding her eyes while she shook her head. When she finally peeled them off, her eyes were red. “Why do that? Do you know how hard I worked at forgetting that day?”
“I know, baby.” He repositioned himself so he could hug and rock her in his arms.
“Fifteen years of therapy it took, and the memories still haunt me.”
He pressed her body closer to his. “But—bear with me for just a few more minutes—if you could identify one little clue—one tiny detail—you could potentially find the person who killed your parents and your baby brother. Wouldn’t putting that man in prison end your nightmares for good?”
He continued rocking her, as though the motion could remove the pain he knew he’d inflicted just by talking about it.
She inhaled deeply, then asked, “What’s the second thing you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh, I probably should have started with it… But every summer, the staff at our DNA lab have a big party. It’s not something we invite people to. We just celebrate the advances that have been made in our field with free food and drinks. I mean, DNA profiling began in 1984. Your parents died in 1995. That’s more than two decades of improvements in technology. If we were to reanalyze the evidence, perhaps there’s something new we could discover.”
“Luke… I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. But whatever DNA existed is probably deterior
ated beyond use. They’ve already tested what they had.”
“But—and that’s a big but—if you were to see that hypnotherapist, perhaps we could uncover new leads, new evidence, or run new tests on the old evidence based on new memories that you’d bring back to the surface. You’re the one who discovered them, first at the scene. You were just thirteen then, but now you’re a detective. And a smart one. If you could relive that day with your current expertise, don’t you think you could uncover new clues or new leads?”
Chapter Four
Kate tried to sleep, but images of her dead baby brother haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Her chat with Rosebud combined with Luke’s far-fetched idea, and a glance at the bright digits of her alarm clock—2:32 a.m.—made it clear she wasn’t going to sleep tonight.
Rolling quietly out of bed, she donned a pair of jeans and a sweater, left a note on the kitchen counter for Luke, then drove away to her uncle’s old place.
Might as well put her insomnia to good use.
After Kenny’s death, she’d waded through all the red tape associated with his will, but finally his house had become hers. While there was sentimental value to it, it was a crumbling mess. She’d talked it over with Luke. Turning it into a rental property would require so much work. She didn’t have the skills or time to do it herself, and Luke wasn’t the type of guy to make good use of power tools. He was a nerd through and through, and she loved him for that. She dealt with enough machismo from some of her colleagues at work.
As she unlocked the door to the house where so many happy and sad memories had been shared, she realized she had to deal with it as quickly as possible. Rip off the Band-Aid, strip away the memories worth saving, and then put it up for sale.
Whatever cash would come out of it would be a bonus.
So she picked up a garbage bag and one of the boxes Luke and she had brought over during a previous visit. She unfolded the box, taped the bottom shut, and carried it with her to the living room to see what was worth salvaging and what needed tossing.
She could get a lot of things sorted while the rest of the neighborhood still rested in darkness and silence.
Chapter Five
Saturday, June 16th, 2018
After opening the panels of the antique toaster on the kitchen counter, Luke put a slice of sprouted-grain bread into each then closed them up.
How he loved that old toaster!
It was a serious fire hazard, but every time he used it, he thought of his dad, hoping the man was resting in peace. And he got to enjoy perfectly toasted bread. Every time.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
She sat at the kitchen table, sipping on her orange juice, her hair still in rollers from the previous night. As she put her drink down, she nodded. “Sure, dear.”
Luke checked if his toast was ready then returned his attention to his mom. “Kate and I have been seeing each other for a while now. We’re coming up on an anniversary of sorts. I was thinking of doing something special for her. What do you think about me getting her a dog?”
“A dog?” Her fork cut into the soft yolk that rested on top of her bread, making the yellow liquid ooze out into the toast.
Luke peered into the antique appliance again. Not ready yet.
“Well, she’s already living here. I know she doesn’t want children. At least not until she gets over those nightmares. Wouldn’t a dog be a great stepping stone?”
“You realize I’d be the one taking care of it. Walking it. Training it. Cleaning up after it…”
Luke opened the panels and flipped his bread to expose the soft sides to the central element.
“Yeah… You’re probably right.” His mom was getting up there in years, and that was something that had begun to worry him a little. He definitely didn’t want to burden her with anything. “I don’t know what to get her.”
His mom’s fingers fidgeted with the silver cross that hung around her neck. “You know what would make me the happiest person on earth?”
“What?”
“Make an honest woman out of her!”
Luke moved toward the table. “Come on, Mom! Kate’s not religious. And I can’t blame her for losing whatever faith she may have had after her family got killed.” He reached for the cup of coffee he’d left on the table minutes earlier. “No, I can’t do that.” He poured in some sugar then stirred.
Mrs. O’Brien shook her head, looked up to the sky, then back down to Luke as she exhaled. “Well, if you don’t want to make it official under the eyes of God, then at least make it official at City Hall.”
“But don’t you think it’s a little too fast—”
“Luke Stewart O’Brien, you’ve known and loved this woman for over twenty-five years! Sure, she wasn’t in your life for a solid twenty of those years, but I know you never stopped loving her. She’s special. She gets you, and you get her. Don’t you dare—”
The smoke detector shrilled over the rest of her words as smoke escaped the toaster behind Luke.
“Shit!” he muttered, rushing to unplug the machine and flip the panels open.
Two blackened squares stared back at him. Well… Perfect toast 99.9% of the time.
Following the annoying sound, he stepped into the living room and waved a newspaper under the detector, hoping to make the damn thing shut up.
A long minute later, he was finally rewarded by silence. He walked back into the kitchen just as his mother was closing the window, the smoke now cleared.
Luke tossed his failed toast into the garbage, reloaded the toaster and plugged it back in.
“You know my birthday’s coming up,” she said to Luke as she returned to her seat to finish her breakfast.
“Yes, of course. But same as last year, I don’t know what to get you.”
“I half-expected as much, so I thought of something I’d like you to do for me. For my birthday.”
“What?” he said, heading toward the table.
“Better stay back there, son. That alarm was bad enough the first time.”
Luke shrugged but nonetheless obeyed. “What do you want?”
“The church is arranging a fundraiser to support the community. I’d like you to accompany me.”
“What?” Luke asked as he flipped his toast. When he returned his glance her way, she was finishing the last bite on her plate. “What kind of fundraiser? When?”
“Tomorrow evening. It’ll be from six to nine.”
“Why?”
“Luke, be a good Christian and accompany your mom. It’s for the good of the community. I’ll be selling my baked goods.”
“It will be packed with people,” Luke said, his face shriveling.
“We certainly hope so!”
After checking that the bread was toasted enough—although not perfectly—he unplugged the device, loaded his slices onto a plate, then joined his mom at the table.
Her wide eyes were hopeful, her smile genuine. “You could ask Kate to join us, if you want.”
Luke’s eyes inadvertently widened. “I’m pretty sure she’s not going to be interested in that.”
His mom’s brows descended as she frowned. She got up from her chair and carried her dirty dishes to the sink.
Luke began spreading peanut butter on his toast while considering her request. His extreme introverted nature wouldn’t enjoy it at all, but he couldn’t disappoint his mom. That would just be selfish of him. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go with you.”
She walked back to the table to squeeze his hand, a large smile on her increasingly wrinkled face as he himself forced a grin to last long enough to please her.
Suck it up, Luke. She’s the only mother you have. If spending a ridiculous number of hours surrounded by way too many people is going to make her happy, then so be it.
Chapter Six
Sunday, June 17th, 2018
In front of him, the congregation stood, dressed to the nines, their booming voices joining the choir to chant:
“Lo
rd, my savior,
Lord, my liberator,
Guide me toward your light,
Together our souls will unite.
Your spirit calls, through the dark times it beckons,
With open arms, you’ll greet me in the heavens.
Glorious is your name,
Glorious is your flame.
Lord, while I walk with shame,
My sins you forgive the same,
I look up to you and your name I’ll forever proclaim.”
As he and the crowd repeated the last five lines of his favorite hymn—words he’d memorized decades ago—he relished his most recent success, rubbing the beads of his wooden rosary between his right thumb and forefinger.
It had been two weeks already and nobody had come and spoken to him. He hadn’t heard anything on the news either, but he knew that it’d be just a matter of time.
The cleansing ceremony had gone off without a hitch. He’d had time to clean up everything. He’d been cautious not to leave fingerprints on anything he’d touched. Not the Bible, not the kitchen table, not the door handle on his way out. Not a thing.
The minute after she’d passed out, he’d donned his gloves and covered his head with a surgeon’s cap to avoid leaving any hair behind. He’d cleaned everything, including the wine glasses from which they’d drank. He’d thought about placing them in the dishwasher and letting the hot steam remove both his prints and the chemicals from his homemade brew, but the appliance had been empty. He’d hand washed them instead and stored them away.
Everything had been left as it was before he’d arrived. Nobody had heard a thing, and nobody had seen him leave the house in broad daylight with the rest of his wine bottle in hand.
Well, almost everything had been left as it had been. The family’s precious Bible now rested on Mary Magdalene’s breathless chest in her bedroom.
The Last Amen Page 2