Broken Promises (3 page)

“So, the stepfather is ready to shoot Bob, and Mary drops her bouquet on the ground, punches him in the stomach and follows up with a jab in the side,” Bradley said. “He drops his gun and it skids across the floor. Then Mary dances around him like a prizefighter...”

Mary brought her arms up in a fighting stance and shadow boxed for a moment. “Fly like an eagle and punch like a...,” she paused, thinking for a moment and then, smiling, added, “Punch like a bee.”

Ian and Bradley grinned. “Or something like that,” Ian said.

“So Mary basically takes him out in a matter of moments, knocked cold, on the floor,” Bradley said, “So fast no one else had time to help her.”

“In a dress and heels,” Mary added with a wink.

“Well, now, that was truly amazing,” Ian said. “And will you be giving up your day job to start a career in the ring?”

“No way! Boxing hurts,” she admitted, shaking her hands for emphasis. “Besides, all kidding aside, I couldn’t have done it without Linda’s father.”

“Oh, Linda’s father was there too, was he?” Ian asked.

“Yes, he was the one who encouraged me to fight,” Mary explained impatiently. “He used to be a boxer.”

“Well, then, why didn’t he fight the bloke?”

“Because he was a ghost,” Mary said with an exasperated sigh.

Ian smiled. “Aye, only in the world of Mary O’Reilly does a dead man attend his daughter’s wedding.”

Mary shook her head. “No, only in the world of Mary O’Reilly do you know about it,” she said. “I’m sure there are many fathers who, although they can’t be there in body, are there in spirit.”

Nodding, Ian said, “You have the right of it, Mary.”

“So, after Ernie kissed Linda...”

“Why did Ernie kiss Linda?”

“Because Ernie is Linda’s father,” Mary said, rolling her eyes once again. “Pay attention Ian. So, after Ernie kissed Linda, he said good-bye to me and faded away.”

“Well, that was quite a fairy tale wedding,” Ian said, with a smile. “So, tell me, was the rest of the day uneventful?”

There was a moment of silence in the room as Bradley met Mary’s eyes and sighed. “Well, I suppose there was another significant event,” he admitted. “Mary learned that Maggie is not my daughter.”

Ian’s face sobered. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Mary, what did you discover?”

“Maggie and I were at a table and she told me that she missed Mike, and I...,” Mary’s voice cracked and she took a deep breath, as her eyes filled with tears.

She tried to speak but couldn’t at first. Finally she wiped her eyes and whispered. “And I told her I missed him too.”

“Aye, we all miss him,” Ian said sympathetically.

Mary nodded and continued, her voice a little stronger. “I explained to her that he wanted to say good-bye to her, but everything happened so quickly, he couldn’t. Then she told me the same thing had happened with the sad lady, Jeannine. She had asked Maggie to say good-bye to Clarissa for her because she had to leave.”

“Who is Clarissa?” Ian asked.

“Well, it seems that Clarissa is my daughter,” Bradley replied.

Clarissa Madison sat on the cold wood floor, her feet tucked inside her flannel nightgown for warmth. She blew on the window and watched a small patch of frost melt away. The blurry neon lights from the bar across the street were now clear and she could watch the comings and goings on the sidewalk. She scooted up on her knees, her elbows resting on the scarred wooden windowsill, and looked intently down at the patrons.
Would she be able to tell from this far away?
she wondered.

A man and woman walked from the alley towards the front door. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders and he was whispering into her ear. She laughed loudly and threw her head back and Clarissa studied her face. Bright red rouge defined her sharp cheekbones and dark cobalt eye shadow accentuated the thick black liner coating the lids of her eyes. Her lips glowed with crimson and her big teeth gleamed with a yellow hue.

Clarissa shook her head.
No, she couldn’t be one. She just couldn’t.

Standing, she hurried across the room to the little desk in the corner and pulled the oversized library book from her backpack. It was too dark in her room to read the title. She knew she couldn’t turn on her light, because she didn’t want to disturb her mother, who slept on the small couch in the living room, just outside of her room.

She walked back to the window and angled the book, so the flashing neon sign threw beams of red, orange and green across its cover.
A Book of Angels.
Clarissa compared the title to the bar sign across the street. “Angel’s Bar” flickered in all the colors of a neon rainbow. Next to the name was a fluorescent image of a scantily clad woman with wings that, through the magic of animated neon lighting, lifted up to expose more of her bikini clad body and then dropped down to present a more modest image.

She knew her daddy was an angel now, but she didn’t think he looked anything like the girl on the sign. She was sure her daddy would always look like he did when he came home from work every day, smelling of wood and the peppermint gum he always had in his car. She paused for a moment;
did angels get to wear work boots?
If so, she knew he would be in those scarred brown leather boots.

She still couldn’t believe he was dead. They had a funeral; she saw his body lying in the coffin. But he didn’t really look like her daddy. It was like her real daddy got pulled out of his body and just left the shell, like the caterpillar’s cocoon in Mrs. Leverton’s class two years ago. The cocoon was empty and there was a beautiful butterfly in the cage.

She sighed softly. Instead of butterfly wings, her mommy told her that daddy had angel wings now. She closed her eyes and pictured her big, tall daddy with white wings and giggled softly. He might look pretty silly, but he would look better than any of the people coming in or out of the building she was watching.

Clarissa smiled and hugged the book to her chest. “There’s angels ‘cross the street, Daddy,” she whispered. “Just like you used to say. Angels to watch over mommy and me.”

She looked down on the bar and shook her head. “‘Cept I can’t tell which ones are the angels,” she admitted softly.

She blew on the window again and the patch of clear glass appeared again. Propping her head against the thin glass pane, she studied each patron, hoping to find a celestial being among them. When she heard the coughing begin in the next room, she tightened her arms around the book and closed her eyes.

“Please God and Daddy, if you’re listening,” she whispered, “help Mommy feel better. Please help us go back to Freeport. Please make the bad man go away. Please make us not so scared. Amen.”

But the coughing continued. She heard her mother cross the living room and slowly walk down the hall to the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed, Clarissa jumped up and hurried to the bedroom door. She opened it a crack and listened. When the muted coughing was interrupted by heaving and vomiting, Clarissa’s stomach tightened. She remembered when she had the flu and she threw up in the toilet. She remembered it hurt her throat, but after it happened she felt a little better. But her mother threw up every night and she didn’t think it made her feel better at all.

She heard the toilet flush and the water run in the sink. In a moment her mother would be returning to bed. She knew she should close her door and get back in bed, but she wanted to see her mother, to make sure she was fine. She pushed the door, so it was nearly closed and watched her mother slowly walk back up the hall, her hand against the wall for support. Pausing to take a shaky breath, her mother looked as if she was going to collapse before her. Clarissa knew she needed to help her.

Slowly opening her door, Clarissa stepped out, yawned widely and rubbed her hands over her eyes.

“Clarissa,” her mother said weakly. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Clarissa stumbled forward, in a mock half-asleep manner. “Oh, I woke up and I was thirsty,” she lied, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist. “Were you thirsty too?”

Her mother nodded. “Yes, yes, I was,” she said, her voice weak and tired. “Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll get us both water.”

Tightening her arms around her mother, she shook her head. “No, it’s my turn to get water,” she insisted, as she guided her mother back to the couch. “You lie down and let me get it. I’m real good at getting water.”

Her mother crumpled onto the couch and Clarissa tucked the covers around her. “Is there anything else you want from the kitchen, Mommy?” she asked. “Do you want some of your medicine?”

Her mother shook her head. “No, Clarissa, I’m all out of my medicine,” she said, “I’ll get some more tomorrow. Just water will be fine.”

Clarissa bent over her mother and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Okay, Mommy. You just rest and I’ll get us water. And don’t worry; Daddy’s going to send us angels.”

A single tear formed in her mother’s eye and slid slowly down her cheek. She lifted her hand and gently stroked Clarissa cheek. “That will be wonderful, darling. Angels are just what we need.”

Mary, Bradley and Ian climbed up the stairs of the Brennan’s front porch. They paused before knocking on the door.

“We have to be honest,” Mary said, “totally honest.”

“Even if it makes us look like a bunch of daft loons running about after things we can’t see?” Ian asked.

“Well, we can see them,” she countered. “They can’t see them. Besides, it’s not like it’s totally unbelievable. Bradley believed.”

Clearing his throat and glancing away from his friends for a moment, he paused before answering. “Even after witnessing Earl thumping through your house in the middle of the night, I still had my doubts,” he said. “It wasn’t until I was able to see them when I touched you, that I really began to believe.”

She exhaled slowly. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to get any supernatural help,” she said. “But, even if they think we’re nuts, we have to tell them the truth.”

Ian nodded. “Aye, if for nothing else, it will help prepare the way for Maggie if she ever decides to let them know about her gift,” he agreed.

Bradley leaned forward and knocked on the door. Mary, standing between the two men, grabbed hold of their hands and squeezed. “For luck,” she whispered.

“For luck then,” Ian agreed.

“Can’t hurt,” Bradley added.

The door opened and Katie stood before them, a wide smile on her face. “We thought you would never knock,” she said with a laugh. “Please come in out of the cold.”

“We were just having a wee chat before we came in,” Ian explained.

Clifford walked up behind her. “Well, it would be much warmer to chat inside,” he said, standing back and letting them enter the house.

Stepping into the Brennan home was a step back in time for Mary. Organized clutter is what her mother used to call it. The home of a busy family; with hooks for coats and backpacks next to the door, rubber mats for boots and shoes underneath the coats and a bookshelf of cubbyholes for papers, art projects and anything else that could fit. The couches and chairs were overstuffed and well-used, the perfect place to sit when reading a book to a child or several children. There were precious objects d’art Brennan-style scattered across walls and other surfaces. But most of all, Mary could feel the love and peace inside the walls of the house and desperately hoped their conversation with the Brennans would not do anything to alter it.

“I love your house,” Mary said, glancing around. “It reminds me of my house when I was growing up.”

Katie smiled. “Well, it’s nice to hear that you lived in a home like this and grew up to be a fairly normal person.”

“Fairly normal,” Ian teased.

“Which brings us to the purpose of our meeting with you,” Bradley said.

“The fact that Mary is only fairly normal?” Clifford asked with a laugh.

“Actually, yes,” Bradley replied, in a more serious vein.

Both Katie and Clifford paused for a moment, their smiles dropping slightly. “Well, let me take your coats and hang them up,” Katie said. “And you can follow Clifford to the kitchen table. Help yourselves to tea and cookies.”

They followed Clifford to the country-style kitchen and each took a place around the large oak table. Ian leaned over and picked up the teapot. “Shall I pour?” he asked.

“Please,” Clifford replied.

Ian poured tea and passed the cups around while they waited for Katie to come into the room.

A few moments later she entered the room and took her place at the table. “I just checked on the kids,” she said. “They’re all asleep, so we shouldn’t be disturbed. And I have to admit, you have me just a little bit worried.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” Mary assured her. “We just need to talk to you about some things...”

She faltered.

“Aye, fill you in about some things we’ve learned in the past couple of months,” Ian added. “That might be able to help you...”

“And, in turn, you might be able to help us,” Bradley finished.

“You really haven’t eased my mind,” Katie said as she slipped into a chair at the table and picked up a tea cup.

Ian picked up the teapot and filled her cup. “Really, it’s not so hard as all that,” he said. “Although, you might need to keep an open mind to some of the things we’re going to talk about.”

Katie nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Mary turned to Katie and Clifford, took a deep breath and began. “I don’t know if you knew that I was a police officer in Chicago before I moved here,” Mary said.

“I think I remember hearing that,” Clifford said. “Maybe Andy mentioned it.”

Mary smiled. “He does tend to have very good hearing. Yes, I was a police officer and I was...,” she paused, hesitant to continue.

Bradley reached across the table, placed his hand over hers and gave her a nod of encouragement.

“I was shot,” she finished, sending Bradley a grateful smile. “I was rushed to the hospital. Emergency surgery. And I died.”

“What?” Clifford asked. “I don’t understand.”