Drowning in the East River (8 page)

The silence of the moment pulsated in David's ears, but was gradually replaced by a low rumbling as a group of automobiles stopped along the path. Groups of people somberly piled out onto the grassy hillside.

"Daddy!" David turned around to face the car at the sound of his son's voice. Thomas was standing on the front seat, his arms reaching out in David's direction. His lips were pursed in seriousness. “Up!"

"Come on, buddy!" David said. He wrapped his arms around his son and gently lowered him to the ground.

"I'll take him, David." The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Turning around, Anna stood behind him, her arms folded against the cold.

David glanced back at Thomas before shifting his eyes to look at Anna. He shook his head and braced a guiding hand on his son's shoulder. "That's all right.”

Without waiting for an answer, Anna reached down and hoisted Thomas up into her arms. "I'll watch him for a bit.”

Crossing the twenty-five yards down the hillside, David pulled his overcoat snugly around his body, trying to calm the shivers shooting through his muscles. He buried his hands deep into his pockets as he forced out a centering breath.

Jessica's plot was in a quiet, forgotten about corner of one of the older sections of the cemetery. It was on a steep hillside, over-looking the Manhattan skyline. The surrounding grave markers were small, the faded engraving on the granite dated them back to the middle of the previous century.

David's stomach flip flopped as his feet slid over the wet grass lining the hillside. He ran his fingers over his neck, trying to relieve the relentless itching.

Anna followed behind him, with Thomas clinging tightly to her body. She had one hand underneath the quiet toddler, the other pressing his head to her chest.

David slowed down, letting Anna catch up to him. He looked over his shoulder, meeting her eyes. "I'll take him." He said, quietly. She met his glance, her look silently warning him to be gentle with his fragile, young son. "Come to Daddy." David said, scooping Thomas out of Anna's arms.

David stepped aside, letting the rest of the family pass. He gently set Thomas down on the wet grass behind a massive crypt which shielded them from prying eyes. Dropping into a crouch, David tugged his son's coat around his body, refastening the tiny buttons securely.

"Let's keep you warm," David said. His voice was gentle, more for his benefit than his son. He rewrapped Thomas' scarf, tucking the layers of thick blue wool securely into the front of the boy's scratchy coat. He ran a hand through Thomas' wild curls and looked into his eyes. He could feel his hands shaking. He pulled them back and tucked into his pockets. He pushed himself back to his feet and looked down at his son. "There we go.”

Thomas' wide, hazel eyes shot around the cemetery nervously, silently taking everything in. The gradual realization of what happened to his mother had started to sink in. "What happened to Mommy?" Thomas struggled slightly against the uncomfortable snugness of his coat as they started walking. David took small steps, making sure to keep at Thomas' pace. The toddler pulled away from his father's grip with surprising firmness. "I miss Mommy.”

"I miss Mommy too," David said, crouching to adjust his son's cap. There was much of Jessica there was inside of his son's wide and confused eyes. David shifted his eyes to the open grave a little further down the hillside as he struggled to collect his thoughts. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat.

"Where is Mommy?" The child's voice shot up in anger, confused tears brimming in his eyes. After a moment, he looked back up at his father. "Why can't I see Mommy?" He asked again; his voice hiccuping with emotion.

David stood up, running his fingers through his hair. Stretching his back, he looked up at the cloudy sky, searching his head for the right thing to say. "Mommy had to go away." He coughed, trying to disguise the break in his voice.

"You're crying, Daddy." Thomas threw his little arm's around David's knee, hugging him tightly.

David exhaled sharply and pulled off his glasses, wiping the tears in his eyes. "Daddy's fine." He looked down at Thomas, who was staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He smiled gently as he crouched back down to the boy’s level. "Mommy's in a better place.”

"Do you think she's happy?" Thomas asked, his eyes glowing with the idealism only a child could cling too.

"I hope so, Thomas," David said, tousling his son's hair gently. "You have no idea how much I hope so.”

"Hope so?" Thomas asked, looking wide eyed at his father.

"I know she is," David replied, forcing any doubts to the back of his mind.

David picked up Thomas, propping him against his chest as he picked up his pace towards the grave. Most of the procession had already congregated in a half circle around the plot.

David stopped a few feet away, still cradling his son against his chest. He looked at the crushed grass under his feet, deliberately avoiding the mass of eyes staring at him. There was sympathy reflected in the looks, but no one moved towards him.

A chill reverberated through his body as the casket descended the hillside. The simple oak box was being carried by a few close, Conlon family friends. Still holding his son, David moved up the hill towards where the pallbearers carried the casket.

As he joined in the procession, David made eye contact with William, who occupied one of the corner positions supporting the coffin. The two men exchanged a small nod.

The crowd parted as the procession came through, bringing the coffin down gently on the grass.

As the men faded back into the crowd, David set Thomas down and knelt next to the coffin. He put a gentle hand on the edge of the casket. "I'll miss you, Jess." He kept his words to a barely audible whisper.

"Are you talking to Mommy?" Thomas asked, raising his head to look at his father. He looked around at the strange surroundings.

"I'm talking to Mommy," David said, quietly. He spoke gently, swallowing back the emotion from his voice. He could feel all eyes glued to him. "Come on, Thomas." He wrapped his hand around Thomas' shoulder and guided him to their spot in the crowd.

Father Joseph O’Shea had been at the Conlon's Midtown Irish Catholic parish for close to forty years. As the elderly man stood up and cleared his throat, his eyes swiftly scanned the group of mourners. The weather seemed to be getting colder by the minute as a strong breeze swept off the East River.

"Thank you all for coming out this morning," the Father said, giving a supportive nod towards Jessica's family. Her sisters remained huddled in a close group, just off his right hand He ran a hand through his hair, smearing his wet and graying hair back away from his face. He rubbed his hands together briskly as he continued. "It is a shame the weather couldn't be better for our service today.”

David bit his lip; his eyes remaining glued to the coffin. It was a struggle to keep his breath slow and steady against the pressure sitting on his chest. He braced his hands on Thomas' shoulders. The toddler was standing in front of him, staring at the cloudy sky above their heads.

"I've had the pleasure to know Jessica Conlon since her family came to this country in 1901. Even at a young age, Jessica always stood out to me as a bright and spirited young woman. She had a strong passion for helping those around her towards a sense of physical and spiritual betterment. She was highly active in the native Irish community of lower Midtown.”

David exhaled sharply; a small smile spread over his face as the fond memories of his wife flooded back to him. Jessica had a fiery passion for political causes, usually siding with hard luck cases. It was probably what drew her to him.

"It seems a shame, though somehow fitting, that such a girl would be taken from us so soon. It should come as no surprise to any of us that the Holy Father would want Jessica by his side. Jessica's family, as well her husband David Freeman, would like to thank each and every one of you for joining us today. If you would please turn to page 2 in your program, Miss. Anna Conlon would like to lead a reading of her sister's favorite hymn. Then Mr. Freeman would like to have everyone back to their residence for refreshments.”

David crossed his arms in front of him as he watched the coffin shakily descend into the open grave. A slow murmur spread over the crowd as the mourners slowly headed back up the hill towards the automobiles. An icy wind blew over the cemetery, but David's body felt numb to the cold.

David looked up at Anna, who was moving to talk to the Father. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes quickly as he followed his sister-in-law. "Would you take Thomas?”

Her eyes were harsh as she spun to face him. "Are you coming? We have the wake at the apartment…"

"I'll be up in a minute," David said, sniffling. He quickly wiped his nose with the back of his hand and glanced to the dim and overcast sky to collect himself. He hoped it would look like a reaction to the bitterly cold air hanging over them.

David dropped down to his knees, and placed his hands on Thomas' elbows. He looked his son straight in the eyes, doing his best to plaster a comforting smile on his face. "Would you be a big boy and take your Aunt to the car?" David asked.

Thomas nodded his head, he looked between his father and his aunt in tired confusion.

"Can you do that for Daddy?" David asked, pulling Thomas' cap further down on his head.

"Yes sir," Thomas mumbled, staring at the ground in front of him. He tugged at the collar of his jacket.

"I'll be right behind you," David said, pressing on a smile. He could feel the tears starting to well in his eyes again. He shifted his gaze to Anna. "There's just something Daddy needs to take care of here before he comes up.”

"Come on, Tommy," Anna's voice was hushed, though she kept her tone upbeat for the boy's benefit. "Let's give your Father a minute to himself.”

David watched as Thomas reached for Anna's hand, following her back up the hillside. He took fast steps, trying to keep pace with her. Thomas didn't look back, leaving David alone by the side of the trodden grass of the now muddy grave. David dropped back into a crouch, clasping his hands in front of him.

"I love you, baby." David said, his voice barely above a whisper. He exhaled sharply. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Looking up from his introspection, his eyes were drawn to a large headstone. The elegantly carved piece of marble depicted Christ's resurrection, watching the figure of Christ rising elegantly above his group of distraught disciples wailing on the ground below.

David reached into his pockets and pulled out the rosary beads he had been carrying with him for the last three days. He brought the cool ceramic up to his lips, kissing it. The beads still carried the faint smell of Jess' perfume.

Almost like he was ripping off a bandaid, David held out his hand and dropped the rosary beads into the open grave. He blinked back tears as he heard the beads clack on the polished wood of Jess' coffin.

CHAPTER FIVE

Just wanting to sit down, David drifted to the edge of the living room. The pressure in the room was stifling as he tried to escape the prying eyes and the seemingly unending, shallow expressions of sympathy. Having to put on a brave face in front of these people, with all of their pity and expectations, made him sick to his stomach. He just wanted to be alone.

The sitting room was packed wall to wall with mourners. Usually crowds that large filled the room with a lively hum, but the mood felt lethargic. People whispered amongst themselves, staying huddled in insular groups. Anna hurried around the room, her arms loaded down with a tray of drinks.

David sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs, dropping his head into his hands. Hearing the nearby clink of glass, David looked up. His eyes shot over to Thomas, who was sitting dazed in his crib. Toys were strewn around him, unused. The child watched the restrained movement of the room, the confusion growing in his wide eyes.