His Ordinary Life (11 page)

Minutes stacked one on top of another and stretched into hours. The wonder of a small town unfolded before Barbara, and while she appreciated the family and friends who came to offer comfort, nothing made the waiting any easier. Unable to sit still, she straightened a couple of magazines on a corner table and paced to the window.

The setting sun lit the clouds with vivid reds and golds. The beauty lost on her, she closed her eyes, the memory of the awful bruises floating in her mind. Behind her lids, tears pricked her eyes.

Warm hands closed on her shoulders. “You holding up all right?” Del’s breath stirred her hair.

She refused to sink into him, but didn’t shrug off his easy hold either, needing the connection. “I’m trying.”

He pulled her closer, her back against his chest, and again, she didn’t move away. “He’ll be okay.”

With his reassuring voice and strong arms wrapped around her, she could almost believe that. She allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. “The older bruises…do you think he got those Monday night?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chin into her hair. “Maybe.”

Three days. Her son had walked around bruised and hurting for three days, had been injured worse today, and never said a word. Tears spilled over her lashes, a piercing ache stabbing her heart.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

A sigh shuddered through Del. “He’s a teenage boy, Barb. More than likely, he wanted to handle it on his own.”

She did pull away then, guilt burning in her. “Someone hit him hard enough to put him in the hospital. He had to have been frightened and he felt like he couldn’t confide in us.”

The words tumbled free on a strangled sob and Del reached for her, wrapping her close. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell us, baby, but I know it wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do.”

Fighting the sobs tearing at her, she shook her head. “How can you say that? I’m his mother and—”

“Stop.” His finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up. “I’ve watched you with him from the beginning.” He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’re the best mother I’ve ever seen.”

“Next to yours, of course.” She made the weak attempt at a joke through a fall of tears.

“Well, of course.” He stroked her cheek. “I mean, Mama raised six of us, and Lord knows, Will and I had to count for two each.”

“I still wish he felt like he could talk to me.”

“Honey, face it. He’s a Calvert male. We’re not exactly free with our feelings and hell would freeze over before one of us admitted to being afraid.”

She wiped at her cheeks and tried to return his tentative smile. “That’s not true. I remember you admitting you were afraid of dropping him.”

“That’s different,” he said, his gaze intent on her face. “You always made me feel like I could show you I was scared and still be a man in your eyes.”

You were always a man in my eyes
. She swallowed and looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. When would she stop missing him, missing
them
?

She stepped away, shaking off his hands. “How long has he been in there?”

The intensity gone from his eyes, he glanced at his watch. “Almost two hours.”

“I wonder how long—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Tick joined them, his weary expression apologetic. “I have good news and bad news.”

“Oh, Lord.” Barbara passed a hand over her eyes. “Tick, I don’t think I can take any more bad news.”

“The good news is I managed to see Blake before he went up and checked his hands.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You were looking under his nails,” Del said. “For skin tissue.”

Tick nodded. “He didn’t have defensive wounds on his hands, but I recovered tissue from under two of his nails. Whether or not it’s enough to get a decent DNA sample is a different story.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“I went out to the school to see if I could get the security camera tapes.” He rolled his shoulders in an irritable shrug. “Half the cameras aren’t even hooked up.”

Barbara stared, disbelieving. “What? They just installed those cameras. They’re supposed to be state of the art.”

“Budget cuts.” Tick’s expression was as disgusted as his tone. “According to the principal, it was wiring or textbooks.”

“More like wiring or football pads,” Barbara snapped.

“Anyway,” Tick said, “we did a fast-forward scan of this afternoon’s tapes. The only place he’s on video is outside your room, talking to you two.”

A grin flirting around his mouth, he cast a glance between her and Del. Cheeks burning, Barbara remembered Del leaning in, almost kissing her. She tilted her chin higher. “I wonder if the PTA knows the cameras don’t work?”

“Hell, I wonder if their insurance company knows,” Del said, quiet anger vibrating in his voice.

“I’ll go back in the morning, start interviewing teachers and students, anyone who might have seen something, even if it seemed unimportant.” Tick pulled a school map from his pocket. A circled “X” marked the location of Blake’s locker; arrows connected the bus drop-off to the locker and finally to Barbara’s room. “Can you show me anywhere else he might have gone before he came to your room?”

Barbara took the map, aware Del looked over her shoulder. “He could have gone anywhere. The restroom, the library, stopped to talk to a friend.”

“I’m going to need a list of his friends. I’ll start those interviews tonight. One of them may know something.”

“Is that really necessary? I hate for you to go to all of that trouble when we can just ask him when he wakes up.” She watched the two brothers exchange a pointed look. “What?”

Del cleared his throat. “Barb—”

Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at him. “What is it? Don’t you think he’ll tell us now?”

“Honestly?” Tick lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “I think it’s going to take us a few days to convince him to talk to us. Plus, he’ll be groggy when he wakes up. I don’t want to wait to start this investigation. For all we know, this could be happening to other kids as well.”

It didn’t bear thinking about. She released a shuddery breath and Del ran his hand over her back. “You want something to eat? Some coffee?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat anything.”

Tick pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “If you feel up to it, I’d like to start on that list of his friends—” The squawk of his handheld radio cut him off and he grimaced, tucking the notebook under his arm and tugging the radio free from his belt. “Go ahead, Chandler.”

“C-2, what’s your twenty?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“C-3 requests your presence at the old cemetery off Bainbridge River Road.”

Tick sighed and lifted the radio to his mouth again. “What’s he got?”

“A 10-109D.”

Surprise flickered across Tick’s face. “Come again?”

“You heard me. A 10-109D.”

“All right, I’m on my way. ETA ten minutes. C-2, out.” He returned the radio to his belt before ripping a sheet from the notebook and handing it to Barbara. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Start that list for me, would you?”

“What’s going on?” Del asked.

“I’ve got a dead body. A homicide.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. This is the third one this year. At this rate, we’ll end up with the state’s highest murder rate per capita.” A harried expression tightening his mouth, he pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’ll see you in a while. Call me when he’s out of surgery.”

An hour later, Jay Mackey entered the waiting area, still wearing his scrubs. Barbara jumped to her feet, glad for the warm strength of Del’s hand holding hers. A tired smile played around Jay’s mouth.

“He came through surgery just fine,” Jay said. “He’s in recovery and you can see him in a few minutes.”

“Oh, thank God.” Barbara sagged against Del. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and his long, shuddery breath vibrated through her.

“We were able to repair the liver lacs and the damage to his kidney. He’ll be in the surgical ICU for the next couple days, probably stay with us a week or so, and barring any complications, you should be able to take him home by the end of next week.”

“Thank you.” Del let her go long enough to shake Jay’s hand. He hugged her, his face pressed to her hair. A rough laugh shook him. “He’s all right, Barb, he’s all right.”

After wishing the girls a good night, Barbara hung up the courtesy phone and walked back to the surgical ICU. She paused at the door to Blake’s room. Only the light over the bed remained on, the corners shrouded in shadow. Del sat by the bed, and as she watched, he stroked a finger over Blake’s hand in a soft circle.

She eased inside, her shoes clicking against the polished tile floor. Crossing the room, she stopped behind the chair and Del glanced up at her. “Girls okay?”

With a brief smile, she nodded. “They’re going to bed. Your mama’s staying and she said she’d come by here after she dropped them at school in the morning.”

“Good.” He rubbed his finger over their son’s hand again. Barbara glanced at Blake. He’d woken earlier, incoherent, but able to cling to Del and smile at Barbara’s kisses and maternal murmurs. He rested now, eyes closed, monitors keeping track of his heart rate and oxygen levels.

Del turned his hand palm up, aligning Blake’s fingers with his own. Barbara’s heart flipped in her chest as she recognized the gesture. He’d done that often over the years, from those first days with tiny baby fingers to chubby six-year-old fingers to preteen fingers, carrying scabs from skateboard spills. This time, Del’s fingers were only marginally longer.

“He’s catching up to me,” he whispered, his other hand blanketing Blake’s. “He’s already looking me in the eye and he’s still growing.”

“Don’t feel bad.” Barbara let the affectionate humor creep into her voice. “He passed me three years ago, remember?”

“Yeah. He was awful damn proud, too. Kept wanting me to mark it on the kitchen doorway.”

A pang tugged at Barbara’s heart. Every spring, he’d measured the children on that doorframe, but he hadn’t been there this year to do so. On Blake’s birthday, she’d offered to mark his height but he’d shrugged her off, saying it wouldn’t be the same. She averted her eyes from those hands, wishing she could get the memories out of her head that easily. The light glinted off Del’s hair, and her fingers itched to sink into the dark strands, to see if they would still be thick and crisp and soft all at the same time.

Swallowing hard, she clenched her hands into loose fists. “Are you hungry? The nurse said they have this beeper thing to give us if we want to go down to the cafeteria. Or we can take turns, and I’ll sit with him while you go.”

With elaborate care, Del placed Blake’s hand back on the bed. “Why don’t we both go? I hate eating alone.” Standing, he rubbed at his thigh. “Not that I’m really hungry, but coffee would be good.”

After stopping at the nurse’s station and picking up the beeper, they headed for the elevator. Del punched the first floor button and leaned against the wall. He lifted the collar of his shirt and inhaled. “God, it even gets in your clothes.”

Confused, making sure she stayed on her side of the elevator, Barbara looked at him. “What does?”

“The smell.” He wrinkled his nose, his eyes dark and haunted. “That disinfectant or whatever it is. It never changes. They can add on and redecorate, but the smell is always the same.”

She sniffed and shrugged. “I don’t smell it in here. I guess it has to do with sensory memory—”

“Yeah, I guess.” He punched the button again with a savage motion, as if that would make the car move faster.

Memory. Hospital smell. Barbara groaned inwardly. How could she have forgotten? He didn’t associate hospital smells with the birth of their children as she did. To him, the sharp disinfectant would bring back memories of Will’s death, of barreling into the barbed wire fence while running for help, of having the jagged tear on his chest stitched up, of facing his father with the circumstances of his brother’s accidental shooting.

Abandoning the distance between them, she stepped across the elevator and touched his arm. “Del, don’t. Please.”

He stared at her hand, and the shock of connection traveled all the way up her arm to her chest, spreading in a tingling warmth.

“When are you going to forgive yourself?” she murmured. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow and he shook his head. She pulled back, but he reached for her, linking their fingers, drawing her to him. Their gazes locked.

“I’m glad you were here,” she whispered. “That you were with Blake today.”

“Me, too.” His fingers flexed around hers and her breath caught. She dropped her gaze from his eyes to his mouth and suddenly she couldn’t remember why she’d let him go without fighting, why she couldn’t give him another chance.

As she watched, he lowered his head. Her stomach clenched and dropped, fluttering the whole way down, and her body tightened in anticipation.

He stopped a breath away from her lips. “Barb?”

The elevator lurched and stopped.

She closed her eyes. The doors slid open and she straightened with a small laugh. He stared at her a moment, then reached to stop the doors from closing again. “Come on.”

Barbara let him usher her from the car, feeling the loss of something she knew she shouldn’t even want.