Beautifully Forgotten (47 page)

Brandon’s eyes lit up. “Could we?”

Lucien felt on top of the world to see the excitement burning in Brandon’s eyes. He’d do anything for this boy. “Absolutely.”

And then Brandon seemed to sober. It was with genuine concern that Lucien asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t take up all of your time.”

“Why not?” Darcy asked.

He looked so very young when he turned his gaze on them. “Because you have a life outside of me.”

“Not by choice. You are our son and we want you in our lives.” Lucien’s voice was gentle but filled with conviction.

“I’m not cramping your style?”

“Never,” Darcy said emphatically.

“I like spending time with you.” Brandon’s words were barely over a whisper.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I’m not sure about this,” Darcy said to Lucien as they walked up the front steps of St. Agnes.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Fun? I hardly think so.”

As soon as the door opened, the scent of lemon cleaner brought back a wave of memories for Darcy. Brandon was just coming down the stairs with Seth.

“I’ll sign you in and then we’ll get started. Seth is going to play too.”

“I may just watch,” Darcy said.

The grin Brandon gave her was so much like Lucien’s that she felt it hit her right in the center of her chest. “There’s no way you’re just going to watch.” Cocky like his dad too.

Darcy and Lucien had been spending almost every day with Brandon, taking him to museums, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building. It was touristy, which was why Darcy and Lucien were both shocked to learn that Brandon had never seen either the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State building. They went to see a few movies, but today it was Brandon’s pick. Darcy was surprised when he’d invited them to St. Agnes for a zombie-killing marathon. Darcy wasn’t much for video games and certainly not ones that involved killing zombies, but it was his day, so here she was. Lucien, on the other hand, looked excited at the prospect of blowing out the brains of the undead.

Darcy was happy to see that Seth was joining them. He would be moving in with Trace and Ember once the paperwork over guardianship was approved. Darcy and Lucien were in the process of adopting Brandon, but that was going to take some time. It was nice that the boys had each other while the adults navigated through the legal stuff.

They stepped into the media room. It was a drab room with threadbare furniture and scarred floors, but the flatscreen was new. Darcy took a seat and watched as Brandon set up the machine.

“We can all play. I’ll give you a quick rundown of the game and then we’ll get started.”

Darcy crossed her legs and smiled. As if she was going to play.

“Darcy, we’re hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.” There was humor in Lucien’s voice, but Darcy barely registered it because she was in the middle of a herd of dead things.

“After I kill these.”

“You said that a half an hour and two levels ago,” Brandon said.

“Five more minutes,” Darcy hollered as she nailed two zombies with one shot. “Take that, suckers.”

“Maybe we should just order something,” Lucien suggested.

Darcy immediately replied, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Darcy stood in her kitchen working the dough for the pie she was baking for dessert. She was making dinner for Lucien and Brandon at her apartment. She was moving in with Lucien, but she wanted Brandon to see what had been hers for so long—to share a little of her past with him.

She heard the footsteps before Brandon’s voice filled the silence. “Can we help?”

She turned to see father and son standing just inside her small kitchen and how right it looked to see them there.

“I’m almost done.”

“That print you have in the living room, there’s one like it at St. Agnes,” Brandon said.

“The one at St. Agnes was Sister Anne’s print,” Lucien offered.

Brandon suddenly took an interest in his shoes. His head was lowered, which made it more difficult to hear his words. “I used to look at that print and wonder about my mom and dad. I’d made up countless excuses for why they’d left me behind. How they were doing what was best for me.” His head lifted and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “It’s crazy that the reality is even more way out there than my imaginings.”

Darcy burst into tears. She saw Lucien start for her, but it was Brandon who reached her first.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Darcy shook her head and tried to collect herself. After a minute she wiped at her eyes with a paper towel. “It isn’t that. I hung that print because it reminded me of you and your father. Somehow you both felt closer to me when I looked at it. To think that you were doing the same makes me happy and sad all at once.”

Brandon seemed to hesitate for a minute before he asked very softly, “Can I call you Mom?”

Darcy lifted her head as tears spilled down her face. “I would love for you to call me Mom.”

And then Brandon pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Don’t cry, Mom.”

Her arms went around him and she savored the moment she had only ever believed would come true in her dreams. After a minute, Brandon took a step back and looked at Lucien. He didn’t have to ask and Lucien replied by smiling.

“I’d be honored.”

Brandon’s smile covered his face and then he said, “Dad and I got you a gift.”

Darcy’s gaze moved from Brandon to Lucien and back again. She didn’t hide her excitement. “Really?”

“An Xbox and
Resident Evil
.”

Darcy took a word from her son’s playbook when she replied, “Sweet.”

Trace watched as Ember got ready for bed, taking in her very round belly. She was eight months pregnant and, though she was tired all the time, she looked beautiful. His eyes moved higher to her breasts and he couldn’t help but smile because only Ember would bitch about her breasts getting bigger. He didn’t feel the same. In fact, he was tempted to put his hands and lips on those magnificent breasts, but that would drive him crazy and he’d want to finish what he started. He was avoiding sex until the baby came. Ember didn’t understand, had told him repeatedly that it was perfectly safe, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

At her last visit the doctors said her proteins were the closest to normal that they had been throughout the entire pregnancy, as was her blood pressure. The baby was in a good position, the uterus looked great, and they were confident that her delivery would be perfectly average. He was happy with the news, but he still wasn’t going to chance it by having sex. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t care. Waiting was good; it meant that when they did come together again it would be fucking explosive.

Ember glanced over at him, and the smile that turned into a frown made it clear that she knew what he was thinking.

“You’re being silly, Trace.”

He walked to her and brushed his lips over hers. “After the baby comes, you’ll have to beat me away.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just as well; I don’t feel particularly sexy anyway.”

His eyes moved over her slowly before he looked back at her. “Why do you think I’ve been taking so many showers lately?”

It took her a minute, but he saw as understanding moved over her features. “You’re in here . . .” She gestured with her hand because she couldn’t seem to say the word, which was ridiculous, considering their sex life, but so fucking adorable.

“I’m jacking off four, five times a day, Ember.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.”

“Then take me.”

He grinned, but it faded before he said, “I want you healthy and whole more.”

“I’m fine, Trace.”

“I know, and I’m not going to do anything to change that.” He pressed his lips to hers again. “Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

“I’ll make you something.”

“Something chocolaty.”

“You got it, sweetheart.”

He had just reached the door when she said, “Thanks for caring so much.”

“That’s like thanking me for breathing,” he said as he glanced at her from over his shoulder.

She started for the bed and stumbled. He rushed toward her.

“Ember.”

Her eyes lifted to his, but they were glazed over; her lips parted, but he couldn’t hear what she said before she just dropped.

He tried to reach her, but her head hit the dresser before she crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, and then her body started to convulse.

Trace didn’t realize he was screaming until Chelsea appeared in the doorway. Her look of horror matched his own.

“What’s wrong with her?” Trace was already at Ember’s side with a sheet in his hand as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the head wound.

“Call nine-one-one, Chelsea, now!”

Ember’s eyes were white, the irises had rolled into the back of her head. Her body was jerking so violently, he was afraid she was going to break something, but thankfully the shakes started to subside.

“Ember, sweetheart, wake up.”

She wouldn’t open her eyes. She didn’t respond to him in any way and then he noticed the blood between her legs.

“They’re coming,” Chelsea said from the doorway before she moved to join Trace.

“What’s happening to her?”

She was dying. That was Trace’s immediate answer. He was going to be forced to watch as his wife bled to death right in front of him. He was still applying pressure to the gash on her head when the paramedics arrived. Trace hadn’t even heard the doorbell.

“I’ve got it,” said one of the paramedics as he ran into the room and knelt down next to Trace, replacing the sheet with a sterile cloth from his bag.

“Her pulse is weak and her breathing is shallow. Prepare to bag her.”

And then the next words from the paramedic shattered Trace.

“I’ve got no pulse.”