Chasing Darkness (27 page)

She
was stepping out of the car when he got to her side. Beneath her breath, she
was mumbling.

“What
did you say?”

“I’m
trying to remember all the names. This is your oldest sister Gina’s house and
her husband is Mike. They’ve got two kids, Tracy and Kevin. Kevin lives back
east with his wife, but Tracy will be here. Tracy’s husband is Brian and
they’ve got two boys, Allen and Will, and one on the way—a girl. Then, your
brother Phil and his wife, Alison. And your mother.” Her eyes snapped open. “What
should I call your mother?”

“No,
no, you’ve got it all wrong. Gina’s married to—” He paused and watched her face
drop. Laughing, he put his arm around her. “You’re so cute when you’re
concentrating.”

She
pushed him away. “I can’t believe you did that. You scared me to death.”

He
laughed, pulling her close again. He wished more than anything he could skip
right over dinner with his family and take her home. Since she’d told the boys
about her past, the thick wall around her had dissolved. Or perhaps he’d just
gained entrance.

“What
about your mother?” she whispered after he rang the doorbell.

“Ella.
Just call her Ella.”

His
sister answered the door. Her graying hair was pulled up and she wore a blue
cotton blouse and black slacks. “You look nice,” Nick said, kissing her on the
cheek and then introducing Sam. The two women shook hands and Sam offered the
flowers.

Gina
thanked Sam and said to him, “I see
you
didn’t bring me anything.”

“I
brought you me. What else could you want?”

Gina
laughed. “Can you believe him?” she said to Sam. “Just like a man.”

Nick
took Sam’s coat and hung it with his on the old wooden rack that had been by
the door in their house growing up.

“Everyone’s
out back,” Gina said, leading the way. Nick let Sam go ahead of him as they
made their way to the back of the house. Gina’s house centered around the
kitchen. It was the biggest room in the house and also the nicest.

In
the years after Kevin and Tracy went off to college, Mike and Gina had spent
their weekends and evenings redoing it. It had high ceilings and bright white
cupboards with six-pane glass doors. A large bay window took up one side, where
a casual dining table was always set for at least one extra. Tonight, dinner
would be in the dining room on an old pine table that had served Nick as a kid
when dinner had been only rice and beans with a side helping of chaos. Now the
group was huddled around the island where Mike was chopping chives and telling
stories, grandkids running around his feet.

Nick
watched Sam suck in a quick breath as they entered the room and she took in the
size of the group. Gina made introductions.

“Uncle
Nick!” his great-nephew screamed. Nick picked Allen up and turned him upside
down, holding him by his feet and making monster noises. Allen shrieked with joy.

“Me
next!” Will shouted, tugging on his pant leg.

Nick
repeated the exercise with Will, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye.

“Me
again,” Allen said as soon as Will was back on the floor.

He
picked them both up, one under each arm, and carried them to where Sam was
being introduced to his mother. Setting the boys down, he kissed his mother’s
cheek.

“Me,”
Will screamed.

“No,
me,” Allen insisted.

Will
pulled on Sam’s pant leg. “What’s your name?”

Smiling,
Sam bent down. “I’m Sam. You must be Will.”

Will’s
mouth formed a giant
O
as he looked at her.

“I’ve
heard a lot about you guys,” she said. She reached out and shook his hand. “But
Nick didn’t tell me how handsome you were.”

Will
stared at the ground, swinging his body left and right while his arms flopped
against his sides.

“What
do you say?” Nick prompted.

Will
furrowed his brow. “Can you play airplane with us?”

“Wrong
answer. You say thank you.”

Will
shrugged. “Thank you.”

“Now
will you play airplane?” Allen asked.

“Hold
on, guys,” Nick said.

Sam
laughed.

“Uncle
Nick,” Allen begged, “come play. Please.”

“Will,
Allen,” Tracy called to them. “Go watch TV while the grown-ups visit.”

“But
Uncle Nick was playing airplane,” Allen protested.

Tracy
swatted Allen’s butt playfully. “He’ll play later. Now git.”

Allen
started to say something else, but Tracy turned him around and gave him a
gentle shove toward the door. He stomped two steps, and then when Will raced
past him he took off after his brother.

Nick
said hello to his niece, noting she was starting to look uncomfortably
pregnant. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Ready
to be done,” Tracy said, patting her swollen belly. “Five weeks and counting.”

“Everyone
to the table,” his mother announced, tapping her spoon against a glass.

They
settled into their chairs as his mother directed them, making sure no one sat
next to their own spouse or anyone of the same sex. She took the head of the
table, as she always did. A purple satin cloth ran down the center, on it two
large wrought-iron candelabras with bright purple candles. The napkins were
purple with blue-and-purple ribbon tied around them. When Gina looked over at
him, he winked to let her know how nice everything looked.

Mike’s
cooking was wonderful. He served salmon steak with melted chive butter, steamed
asparagus, and new potatoes. Gina had made strawberry shortcake for dessert.

Nick
listened to Tracy talk about the baby’s room while Gina gave stray pieces of
advice to her daughter. Turning his attention, he listened to Tracy’s husband,
Brian, who was a stockbroker, talk about the downfall of the new-economy
stocks.

“I
know a lot of brokers who just refuse to trade them,” Brian was saying. “These
companies were returning a hundred percent in a day or two. You look at their
market cap and P/E; it’s not rational. Now they’re tanking and people are
upset.”

“You
probably own every one of those irrational stocks,” Tracy said.

Brian
shrugged, then smiled. “Well, of course. No guts, no glory.”

“I’m
sure that’s what they said in 1929, too,” his mother added, scolding her
son-in-law.

“You
would know. You were there. Right, Mom?” Nick said with a wink.

“You
stop it right there!” his mother said, smacking him on the arm.

They
laughed.

“You
want me to get into stories, Nicky boy,” his mother started. “Have you told Sam
about your first B&E?”

“Oh,
no,” Nick groaned.

Tracy
clapped over her swollen belly. “Tell it, Grandma. Tell that story.”

“No,
Sam doesn’t want to hear that,” Nick countered.

Sam
waved her hand at him. “Of course I do.”

His
mother tossed her head back and laughed. Nick loved the musical sound of her
laugh, like a deep, low saxophone all drawn out. It was one of his favorite
sounds. Settling back in his chair, he waited for his mother to tell her story.

“Nick
was my youngest, of course. And by a lot.” She looked at Sam, who leaned
forward to listen. “He was born when the next oldest, Alexander, was already
nine. Everybody was busy with their own thing, including me. So, some days he’d
come home from school and let himself in.” She looked at her son and shook her
head.

He
grinned.

Sam
laughed and he winked at her.

“I’m
telling a story here. Do you mind?”

Sam
blushed and Nick hung his head in mock shame.

“So,
when he did that he was supposed to start on his homework. I was very clear
about what he was supposed to do. No TV, no friends over, no playing until that
homework was done. So I’m at the school with one of the older kids and I get
this call from the principal, asking for me. I go down there and he tells me
the police are on the line.”

Sam
grinned and Nick watched her watching his mother.

“The
police!” his mother exclaimed, her palm to her chest. She said “po-lice,” like
it was two different words. “You know what that does to a mother’s heart? So, I
run to the phone, cursing up and down. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do
with whichever one of the kids is in trouble. The officer tells me that they
caught someone breaking into my house.” She paused for a dramatic breath and
let her mouth drop open. “Someone in my house!” she exclaimed, her voice
rising.

Everyone
was mesmerized by her voice, leaning forward to catch every word. His mother
could capture an audience like no one he’d ever seen. And here she was, telling
a story most of them had heard a hundred times. He smiled and watched her, glad
that he had brought Sam to meet her.

“Dear
Lord! My first thought was my baby Nicky was at home in that house. Before I
could utter a word, that police officer—he told me the thief said he was my
child.”

She
paused and shook her head, looking up at the ceiling and pretending to talk to
God. “My child,” she whispered, still shaking her head. “My child. My child was
robbing my house? The police officer tells me that they caught this child
breaking a window to get into my house. And then this child claimed he lived
there.”

She
shook her head some more and looked around the table. “So I said, ‘Officer,
what is this child’s name?’ And the officer said—”

“Nick,”
Tracy and Kevin and Gina all spit out together. Then the whole table dissolved
into laughter.

“Nick,”
his mother repeated. “They said that my six-year-old son had broken into his
own house. I said to that police officer, ‘Why?” ’ She grinned, focusing
on Nick from across the table. “But I already knew why. See, my baby Nick can’t
ever keep track of his keys.”

Sam
burst out laughing.

“She
knows you already,” his mother said.

Nick
put his hands flat on the table and leaned toward Sam. “I’ve never lost my keys
with you,” he shouted playfully. “How come you’re laughing?”

Sam
looked up, her eyes bright with laughter. “Rob says they’ve had Triple A at two
practices already this year. You’re always losing your keys on the field.”

The
room lit up and Nick shook his head.

He
shrugged. “You got me there.”

“That’s
not nearly as bad as his first case,” Gina piped up.

Nick
threw her a threatening look, but she didn’t even blink.

“What
about his first case?” Sam asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Nothing,”
he said, smiling.

Sam
looked back at Gina. “Tell me.”

“Well,
here’s Nick, this rookie, right? It’s his first crime scene. He’s there with
his partner and it’s a burglary. So, they look through the house, and at some
point Nick puts the keys to the squad car down—in the middle of this crime
scene.

“They
take a statement and call it in. Turns out the detective lives nearby, and he
gets there before Nick and his partner can leave. As they’re heading out, Nick
realizes he doesn’t have his keys.” She grinned.

Sam
laughed.

“So
they go back into the house, but by this time the detective has already found
the keys and put them in an evidence bag—because the lady said they didn’t
belong to her.”

“Oh,
no,” Sam groaned.

“Nick
tries to get them back, but the detective says no. Wants to teach this rookie
cop a lesson.” She paused for effect, just as her mother had done. “So the
detective impounds the car and sends it to the lab to be printed. Nick and his
partner have to check out another car and deal with their captain about where
theirs is. Finally, after three days, the detective releases the car.”

“It
took me a full weekend of cleaning that damn car to get the printing dust out
of the seats.”

Sam
laughed and shook her head.

“But
I never did that again,” Nick said.

“Yeah,
now he leaves his keys
in
the car,” Gina added.

Everyone
laughed.

The
room settled into normal conversation, and Sam looked over at Nick and smiled.
He could tell she was genuinely enjoying herself, and he loved seeing her with
her guard down. Wide-eyed, she watched his family interact as though she
couldn’t imagine a family having such a good time together.

When
they were finished, Sam offered to help with the dishes while Nick listened to
his brother Phil update him on his boys. Phil’s oldest, Tyler, was only six
years younger than Nick. It had always struck others as odd that Nick’s nephew
was so close to his own age. Growing up, Tyler had followed Nick around like a
little brother.

Nick
had always been responsible for whatever mess Tyler got into. He remembered the
time Tyler had thought to dig for gold in the backyard. He had come back into
the house covered in mud. Of course, Nick got in trouble for not watching out
for him. Tyler was now happily married, the father of two. Nick was the one who
still had to get things together.

Excusing
himself, Nick headed for the kitchen in search of Sam. Gina and Phil’s wife,
Alison, were huddled in conversation over the counter, looking out the window,
their voices low.

“Uh-oh.”

Gina
turned around first.

Alison
shook her head. “I remember when your mother pulled me outside. Scared the hell
out of me.”

Nick’s
mother was head honcho, no matter how old everyone got. No one new was allowed
in without passing her inspection first, and Sam was no exception. “How long
have they been at it?” he asked.

“About
five minutes,” Alison said.

Nick
peered out the window. He could see the backs of the two women, his mother
gesturing to her garden while Sam’s head nodded agreement. She wasn’t wearing
her jacket, and Nick knew she had to be freezing out there.