Forever & Ever

by Tere Michaels

  But.

  Matt was still the stepfather. He wasn’t the moral authority of the family, and he wasn’t comfortable contradicting Evan. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to skate along at Evan’s side, cheerlead, support, and manage him when necessary. He loved the fact that the kids came to him—even Miranda texted him “just to chat” twice a week. He loved these kids, would take a bullet or a speeding car to the chest.

  But.

  Mulling and mumbling, Matt ambled back into the house, where Evan was already shutting down the first floor for the night.

  “Danny’s coming tomorrow. We need to pick up more groceries and laundry detergent,” Evan commented from the kitchen, where Matt heard the clank of glasses.

  “When did we become a rest stop? I’m thinking of putting a Popeyes in the backyard.”

  “The future is franchised chicken.” Evan came out of the kitchen, two glasses of water in hand. “The weather’s starting to get nice, speaking of backyards and chicken. We should get everyone together for a barbecue in a few weeks.”

  Matt grunted a response and then focused on punching some throw pillows on the couch.

  “What?”

  “What what? We’ll have people over and cook meat. Sounds good.”

  “Matt….”

  He knew that tone, that warning concern that said, I am probably not going to drop this and the silent treatment lies ahead.

  Matt sighed, throwing himself onto the couch dramatically. At least he could get a head start if this devolved into a fight and he ended up sleeping on the couch. “Do you really support this? Elizabeth’s decision to be a cop?”

  Boom. There it was. Out in the open.

  Evan seemed to freeze for a long moment before slowly making his way across the room to sit on the edge of the coffee table. The glasses of water ended up gingerly placed on a day-old copy of the Daily News. “I wondered why you were so quiet.”

  “I can’t…,” Matt started, shifting on the couch. “I can’t pretend I think this is a good idea. The academy is going to eat her up and spit her out, and if by some miracle she survives that, she’s going to walk into a precinct….” Matt ran out of words, feeling his heart bumping again his rib cage. “They’re going to take one look at her and draw a giant target on her back.”

  “Women police officers—”

  Matt put up his hand. “No. No. This isn’t me being backwards and stupid. We both know a hell of a lot of women in the department who could break us both in half physically, mentally, and verbally. Helena, for example, who I pray to Jesus never thinks I think that.”

  Evan nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “This is about her being so fucking sweet and good and decent a human being.” Matt’s chest hurt just thinking about it. “She’s going to always want to do the right thing.”

  “Maybe she’s right. Maybe the force needs people like her,” Evan said, his tone indicating that he was only about 40 percent convinced.

  “Yes. She’s right. But her? Even if she succeeds the tiniest bit, they will extinguish her enthusiasm and her heart and make her a bastard like you and me.”

  “Helena is still a positive person.”

  “Helena makes speeches and serves on task forces and makes recommendations in meetings,” Matt responded bluntly. “She couldn’t do it anymore. She got out before they ruined her, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

  Evan’s shoulders went up the tiniest bit, and Matt felt the inevitable fight whistling its presence from the next station. He opened his mouth to speak, but Matt cut him off.

  “And before you dump this into my lap because of my experience with the force—stop. Please. I went in an asshole and I came out a bitter asshole. This isn’t just about being positive or naive. I knew what the world was like.” Matt leaned forward. “You know what the world is like. But you and me and Jim—we have shields.”

  Evan deflated. “And even with shields….”

  “Jim’s retired. I got bumped out the door. Helena’s got a desk job. You have a desk job. We’re all alive and whole, but there were some shaky-ass times in between.”

  Silence echoed loudly through the house.

  After a long and awkward moment, Evan rubbed his palms over his eyes. “I want to believe in her,” he said softly. “I want to support her and her enthusiasm and her dreams, but my God. I’m terrified for her.”

  THEY TABLED the discussion in favor of sleep—or mostly a night of shared tossing and turning until the alarm went off. Evan cycled through endless arguments in his head, from not putting his fears and prejudices on Elizabeth (would he have this reaction if it was Danny? Was this misogyny? Why didn’t he believe in his own child?) to being firm in his conviction that, as a father, didn’t he have the obligation to help guide her away from a seriously negative—and potentially fatal—choice?

  Dawn didn’t break the tie between the two voices, and neither did Matt’s equally troubled expression over shared coffee and eggs over easy on toast.

  They separated at the driveway, Matt heading upstate to work with Jim at his home office, and Evan into the city for another day as captain, but this time carrying a magnifying glass in his mind’s eye.

  All day he watched how the female officers in his command were treated. How he treated them. Did he assign the same amount of gravity to their concerns and hunches? Did he hand out cases fairly between the male and female detectives? Did he even have a fair ratio to make that decision?

  The answer to that last question was no.

  His own tokenism seemed to slide into the mental battle almost unnoticed. The first “out” gay captain. Trotted out when One Police Plaza had another PR nightmare to battle or when they wanted to remind everyone of their “diversity.”

  “If you were black, this would have been even better optics,” someone had remarked once at a community luncheon, with Evan left blinking in surprise and unable to respond before the man drifted away to shake more hands.

  Matt had thrown their rake across the backyard when he shared that little tidbit.

  The number of female, LGBT, and nonwhite officers had grown over Evan’s years on the force, but the ratio was hardly balanced. There were “optics”—oh yes, so many smiling faces on those brochures and campaigns—but too many meetings for captains and higher-ups featured far more people who looked like Evan than Helena. Or Austin.

  Or Elizabeth.

  His gentle-hearted, fair-minded girl. Optimists didn’t last long in this job.

  HE GOT home later than usual—too many hours woolgathering at his desk in between phone calls, office visits, meetings, and conferences. His precinct was small and the crime percentage low—another “optic” he wanted to smack in the face—so days of deadly mayhem were few and far between.

  How many days until retirement?

  Danny’s car was parked in the driveway, but Matt’s was missing. Evan checked his phone and discovered three texts: Matt saying he was staying for dinner at Jim and Griffin’s, Danny saying he was at the house and had ordered pizza because Matt was not coming home for dinner, and another saying they were out of laundry detergent. Also from Danny.

  In the middle of everything Elizabeth-related, Evan took a moment to be grateful Danny was back on track and their relationship on solid ground.

  “Sorry,” Evan called out as he unlocked the door and stepped through. “Can you squeeze some extra out?”

  Danny sat up from where he was sprawled on the couch, his face suspicious. “I really hope you read your texts and that wasn’t some weird sex thing.”

  Evan threw his keys at his son’s head.

  “My reflexes are better than that,” Danny said, dangling them from two fingers. “Pizza just got here.”

  “Want me to run out and get more detergent?”

  “Nah. Found some samples they send in the mail—more than enough for me to finish. Thanks.” Danny—all legs, arms, and skinny torso—unfolded off the couch, heading toward the kitchen.


  “Ingenious.” Evan hung up his coat, left his briefcase by the door. Paperwork could wait; his intent was focused on his son and spending some quality time.

  They sat at the kitchen table, splitting the pizza clean in half, a basketball game on the television, all the lights blazing—ideal circumstances for a moment of relaxation as far as Evan was concerned. They ate the first pieces in silence before Danny slowed down enough to breathe.

  “Elizabeth called me today.”

  Evan swallowed and sighed. “She was here last night,” Evan said, neutral as he could be.

  “I know. With all her brochures and grand ideas.”

  Danny’s tone intrigued Evan; he took a sip of soda, nodded slowly. “You uh—talk to her about her decision?”

  Danny folded his crust in half, then shoved the whole thing into his mouth. The mischief in his eyes reminded Evan that his kid might have a deep voice and six-foot wingspan, but he was still… a kid. He swallowed dramatically, drank half his soda, then spent an inordinate amount of time wiping his mouth.

  “Daniel!” Evan finally yelled, dissolving Danny into laughter.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Danny winked. “I was wondering who would crack first—you or Matt.”

  Evan pretended he didn’t know what Danny was talking about as he reached for another slice.

  “Yes, I talked to her. A lot. Before she talked to anyone else.” Danny leaned back in his chair, an easy sprawl. “You know Elizabeth—she doesn’t like to create drama. I’m surprised she didn’t have, like, a whole PowerPoint presentation.”

  “She seems very, uh… committed to her decision.”

  “Wow. Very diplomatic, Dad.”

  “What?” Evan tried to look indignant but, failing that, took a defiant bite of pizza.

  “You and Matt hate the idea, I know. She knows. She’s all insecure now.” Danny scowled. “I wish you’d just come out and say it. She can read your disapproval on your faces, and then you’re all like—good luck with that.”

  “What about you? What’s your opinion?”

  “I think she’s nuts.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “Of course I did! She expects me to tell her the truth, like she does with me. And because I’m the only person she’ll yell at when I do.” Danny shrugged. “We’ve done like twenty rounds on this. I keep telling her if she wants to do good, there are a thousand things to do in the world other than joining the NYPD.”

  Evan sagged in relief. And a bit of shame, because Jesus, where was his backbone? “You know I only feel like this because of her… her gentle nature. Not because she’s a girl. Woman.”

  Danny gave him some epic side-eye. “Don’t say that again. Not until you’re one hundred percent committed to it being true.”

  LATER, ON the couch—more basketball, more cold Cokes, half an apple pie and two forks—Danny turned to Evan with a serious expression.

  “Elizabeth is, like, the nicest person I have ever met. She doesn’t even curse at other drivers on the expressway. But… I think part of this is her wanting to not be a wallflower anymore.”

  “So she wants to be a cop? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “She wants some control. Some—power isn’t the right word. She wants some respect. She wants people to see her as more than just nice, quiet Elizabeth.”

  Evan thought of his handling Miranda’s intense teen years and Katie’s energetic aura. Their conflicts: the yelling and door-slamming. Elizabeth and Danny were like their quiet mirror. Aside from Elizabeth’s need to shadow her brother (and his desire to escape), they never gave him a problem. Good grades, good behavior, good manners.

  Stress saved for Evan.

  Internalized struggle for Elizabeth.

  “And a uniform gets people to notice her.”

  “Yeah. And it’s gonna give her some power to do something good. None of which is bad.” Danny let out a frustrated sound. “But she’s just… I try to picture it and I can’t. Which sucks because I’m always on her side and this time… I just can’t be.”

  Evan poked the pie with his fork.

  “We can’t let her…,” Evan started, but Danny smacked his arm with a throw pillow. “Sorry.”

  “You need to be honest with her. Maybe let her….” Danny hit himself with the pillow. “Crap. What the hell do I know? I still haven’t declared a major.”

  MATT AND Jim spent the day in Jim’s home office, mapping out security camera placement on a floor plan—not exactly glamorous, but it paid the bills. Like college and weddings and grandbabies making their arrival in a few months. Matt didn’t complain as they ran into yet another too wide blind spot, sending them back to square one for the boutique hotel’s lobby.

  “I mean, I know my knees couldn’t handle it, but it might be nice to chase someone down an alley right now,” Matt quipped, swiveling his chair around a few times.

  Jim smirked as he saved their work on the huge monitor they did floor plans on. “That’s it, we’re breaking for lunch. You’re clearly light-headed.”

  “You don’t miss it?”

  Jim didn’t answer for a few minutes; he tidied up his desk, shut off the monitor. Pretty sure he already knew the answer, Matt creaked his chair back and waited.

  “Well?”

  “Well what? You miss it, after all this time. All the shit.” Jim gave him the stink eye. “But would you really go back?”

  “In time? Or for a desk job?” Matt looked at his sneakers, at his well-worn jeans. Sometimes he wore a tie for meetings, but generally he dressed the way he wanted, made his own hours, and cashed bigger checks than he ever had as a detective. Benefits included not getting shot at. Ever.

  “You wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Damn, you sound sure of yourself.”

  “We are cut from the same cloth, my friend. Bitch as we might about the sedate and safe lifestyle, we aren’t going anywhere.” There was something wistful in Jim’s tone.

  Matt grabbed a piece of paper off the closest desk, crumpled it, and threw it at Jim’s head. “Suburban logical you is so fucking boring. We need to get you into the city.”

  Jim easily ducked out of the way. “Queens is not the city.”

  “Well, now we have to duel.”

  BACK IN the house, Jim made sandwiches. They bullshitted and bantered, the well-worn groove of their friendship making for a pleasant hour of leaving business behind. The previous topic didn’t make its way back into rotation—there was preseason baseball, after all—but as Matt finished his last bite, he let his gaze rest on Jim.

  “Whoa. That’s a pretty serious expression. I just asked who you thought the Yankees’ starting center fielder would be.”

  “Me and Evan talked to Elizabeth the other night. She’s going full steam ahead with this police academy thing.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Smart people with good morals joining the police force—I’m not going to try to stop that.” Jim leaned his elbows on the table. “She reminds me of my former partner, Terry.”

  “Didn’t he leave homicide?”

  “Yeah. Not everyone can do that job. He’s fucking fantastic where he is now—and happy. Doesn’t make him any less of a good cop because he couldn’t handle death every day.” There was an edge to Jim’s tone that Matt knew well.

  Matt put his hands up. “Not saying he’s a bad cop.”

  “You want only adrenaline junkies on a power trip with a badge?”

  “Yes. That’s all I want. Asshole.” Matt got up and straightened his back, the creaks and cracks echoing in the kitchen. “She’s my kid. You look me in the eye and tell me if Caro came to you with the academy brochure, you would be happy.”

  Jim shifted in his chair. “Griffin would shit a fucking brick.”

  “She’d be in a convent in ten seconds.”

  They shared a quiet laugh.

  “It’s dangerous, yeah. Just the thought of all the guys I’ve listened to “Taps” played for
….” Matt dug his hands in his pockets, walking in a circle over the neatly tiled floor. “But it’s more than that. Even if she retires without a scratch on her head, it’s a mindfuck. It’s a goddamn trench, and you’re down there with the worst of people, and people in agony….” He trailed off and then looked at Jim imploringly. “It’s not just that you can be physically hurt. It’s the wear and tear on your soul.”

  “That’s poetic.” Jim sighed as he stood up. “And true.”

  The ghosts of the Kelly family—Carmen, the victim, and her parents, Ed and Della—sat quietly in the room, heavy on Matt’s mind and, he knew, Jim’s.

  “So what’s the answer? For all the garbage, Matt, we helped people. That’s the job—it’s not pretty, but it’s necessary. Why assume Elizabeth can’t do the job? Or at least a piece of it.”

  “Support her now, pay for her therapy later?”

  “I know it’s been a while, but there are other jobs besides homicide detective in the department. Maybe this isn’t about Elizabeth with a badge but Elizabeth with the… right badge.”

  EVAN SEPARATED his issues—there was Elizabeth, and then there was the overwhelming inequality of his station house and department—and stewed over his words after Danny collected his laundry and left. It would be easy to ride the wave of self-loathing for letting his younger kids get to their early twenties carrying baggage of his making. In fact, he let it swamp him in the shower before bed and punched the hamper afterward for good measure.

  Then he was done.

  The past was the past. No time machines were going to appear in the living room to take him back so he might do things differently. He needed to deal with the here and now, with Elizabeth the adult and her choices. They were hers—but that didn’t mean he had to keep all his opinions to himself.

  Sounded good in his head, at least.

  MATT SNUCK in late. The lunchtime chat with Jim had turned into a deeper one, this time about giving Elizabeth advice and direction to the type of work within the NYPD that might suit her. There was even a list—which Griffin tore into tiny pieces when he got home from the city.