An Inner Fire (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Grayce stood with Davis and Mitzi on the front porch of his Aunt Aideen’s house.

“I can’t believe you’re nervous. Everyone loves you and so will my aunt.” He squeezed her hand.

“I’m not nervous. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about us.” Grayce held a bouquet of sunflowers, the last of the season, flowers that magically turned toward the sun each day.

“You have nothing to worry about. I told her we’ve only gone on one official date. But when she discovered you’re Mitzi’s acupuncturist, she wanted to meet you. You don’t know my aunt. Once she gets an idea, there is no convincing her otherwise.”

Aunt Aideen opened the door wearing a caftan of jewel tones in bright blues and purples and a necklace with oversized exotic purple stones. A large boned woman, she was almost as big as Davis and looked like she could bench press Grayce. Her big frame spilled over the door jam.

Davis hugged his aunt, wrapping his thick arms around her. “Welcome home Aunt Aideen. How was your trip? I hope India wasn’t too hot.”

Aunt Aideen had the same bright blue eyes as Davis, but her black hair was peppered with silver streaks.

Squeezed to Aunt Aideen’s bosom, Grayce got a whiff of orange and hibiscus, warm and sunny.

“Come in, come in. Hello Mitzi, how are you?” Mitzi sat primly in front of Aunt Aideen. No jumping on this woman.

“I’m just finishing the dinner. Come into the kitchen.” The kitchen was a large rectangle with Italian tiled floors and windows looking out on an expansive garden. Plants and herbs overcrowded a bay window and hung over the window sills.

“It smells heavenly.” Grayce took a deep whiff of tomato and basil.

“I’ve decided to make my famous Scottish dinner.” Aunt Aideen’s lips were pressed together as if she were suppressing laughter.

Grayce had been warned to expect the possibility of a Scottish dinner.

Davis waggled his eyebrows. He had also warned her that Aunt Aideen was a lousy cook, and they would go out to eat once they visited with his aunt.

Aunt Aideen stopped, tying her apron around her waist. “Grayce, I can’t believe Ewan hasn’t already warned you that I’m an abysmal cook.”

“You know?” Davis’ voice was incredulous. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide.

Davis’ question made Aunt Aideen laugh. She bent over at the waist, holding her side. Mitzi, not wanting to miss out on the excitement, pawed Aunt Aideen’s shoe.

Aunt Aideen rubbed the poodle’s ears. “Mitzi, they think I’ve gone dotty. I’ve always known I was a terrible cook.”

“But you made Scottish dinners.” Davis drawled out the words as if the memory was torture.

“Well, not that many. They stuck in your memory…and probably other places too.” Aunt Aideen chuckled at her witticism. “Grayce, you can watch me cook the cod’s head.”

“Cod’s head?” Davis’ lips paled with the question.

“Ewan, why don’t you take Mitzi outside and give us ladies some time alone.”

“But Aunt Aideen…”

“Go ahead, Laddie. I don’t bite and Grayce looks like she can handle a few questions.”

“Questions?” The notch between Davis’ brows came together in a deep groove. “Aunt Aideen, you promised no questions, remember?”

“Run along, Ewan. Mitzi is ready to go outside. Aren’t you lass?”

With the high pitch of Aunt Aideen’s voice, Mitzi started to yelp.

Davis paused as if he was ready to say something, but instead shook his head.

“Why don’t you come back in fifteen minutes? Everything is almost ready and I know how hungry you get.”

Davis stood at the door, hesitating.

“Ewan, how will you be back here in fifteen minutes if you don’t leave?”

“Let’s go Mitzi. We’re being kicked out,” he said.

Aunt Aideen waited until Davis left and then turned to Grayce. “I thought I’d never get him to leave. Come along to the living room, Grayce, I’ve opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

“But what about the cod’s head?” Grayce had spent six months in China and had been exposed to the various eating practices of Asia. She had never acquired a taste for fish head or eyeballs, which the Chinese considered a delicacy.

“We’re not having a Scottish dinner. The food is atrocious. Have you never wondered why there aren’t any Scottish restaurants?”

The laughter bubbled up and burst out of Grayce.

“I’ve got a little Italian restaurant down the street. I call Marcello and he prepares what I want. We’re having Marcello’s fabulous lasagna. I didn’t know if you ate meat so I ordered his vegetarian.”

Aunt Aideen took out two flutes and poured Champagne into each. “Please sit down.”

Grayce sat on a deep maroon couch in the enormous living room, filled with books, plants and art, a room of scattered, relaxed comfort. Her feet sank into the thick rug which had the same rich reds of the couch.

An end table was covered in pictures of children. Prominent in a heavy silver frame was a picture of Davis and his sisters with a black lab. Grayce picked up the picture. Davis, a young boy, looked back at her with the serious smile that she was getting to know well. Already tall, he stood with his arms around his sisters.

“Fine-looking children. They have the Davis family size, dark hair and blue eyes, but it’s their mother’s inner beauty that made them wonderful human beings. My sister-in-law was warm and generous and everything my brother needed to help him get past our repressive Scottish upbringing.”

Grayce held the picture of the children, feeling their tragic loss, their secure world obliterated. She was fifteen when Cassie died. She couldn’t imagine how young children experienced the loss of their mother. “How old was Davis when his mom died?”

“Ten. It was hard on him. He was very close to his mother and old enough to understand what was happening.”

Grayce stared at Davis’ picture. Her chest tightened, deep pain pressing on her chest for the sweet little boy who had suffered. “It must have been terrible for all of them.”

“My brother tried to do the best he could, but he was grieving, too.”

Grayce couldn’t imagine Aunt Aideen’s burden of helping the children and her brother adjust to the devastating loss.

“Davis inherited my brother’s sense of responsibility and the tendency to be a bit controlling, especially when their feelings threaten them. I had years of practice loosening up my two older brothers, so it wasn’t too hard to get the household to lighten up.”

Grayce could only nod. The ache sat in her throat, not moving.

“I’ve had this joke going for years about my Scottish cooking. Ewan warned you, didn’t he? I hate to give up my secret, but I’ll swear Ewan to secrecy from his sisters.”

Aunt Aideen took a big gulp of the champagne. “Just imagine arriving and finding a well-organized but cold household. I’m not criticizing my brother. But he went right back to work, shutting out all his feelings. I had planned to stay for a few months but ended up living with them for twelve years.” She sighed, her eyes gazing at the picture of the children.

“You did an amazing job.”

“They carry a few scars, but I tried my best to help them.’

She leaned toward Grayce. “You’re a lot like Davis’ mother. She had the same gentleness about her. You’re good for him. I already see it. He seems younger, ready to laugh.”

Grayce felt the heat moving into her cheeks. “We’ve just met…”

Both women heard the back door open and Mitzi’s clicking toenails on the tiled floor.

“Where are the chefs? I’m starving,” Davis yelled from the kitchen.

“Ewan, we’re just having a little champagne.”

Davis and Mitzi came into the living room. “I left for a few minutes, and you two have already given up the cooking?”

“There is Auchentoshan on the sideboard, ‘a good Scottish Whiskey; everything else is dish water’—as your dad liked to say.” Aunt Aideen looked out the window lost in a happy memory.

“I’m happy to drink champagne, but I’m a bit hungry,” Davis said.

Aunt Aideen jumped out of her chair. “Grayce bring your champagne. Ewan bring the bottle. Everything is ready.”

Davis walked to the couch to help Grayce. “Did my aunt ask you a lot of questions?”

“She didn’t ask any. She told me about your mom.”

His hand was warm, although he had been out in the cold, wet evening. He saw the picture she held in her hand, but he didn’t mention it.

Grayce didn’t release his hand when he pulled her up. She held it tight, sending her own warmth.

Aunt Aideen stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. “The cod’s head is ready. We’re having a feast. Sheep’s head too. Please sit down.”

Grayce tried to suppress the shudder that rippled through her body at the idea of eating a sheep’s head. Aunt Aideen was kidding, wasn’t she? Did the Scots only eat heads of animals?”

Aunt Aideen walked into the dining room with the fragrant lasagna. “How do you like the sheep’s head that Marcello prepared?”

Davis laughed aloud, his mouth open wide, his body shaking. “Aunt Aideen, you did that to torture me. Didn’t you? I have a mind to pick you up and put you over my knee.”

Aunt Aideen started the same laugh, the same loud sound with her mouth spread wide. “Grayce, I used to threaten to put the children over my knee. Well, my lad, I suppose if you’re strong enough to toss the caber then you’re strong enough to toss me.”

* * *

Davis insisted that he clear the dishes after dinner.

Grayce, Aunt Aideen and Mitzi remained seated in the dining room, lingering over their tea and blackberry pie.

“I know the children warned you about the Scottish cooking but what about my palm reading and Tarot card readings?” Aunt Aideen asked.

Still struggling with the idea of his aunt referring to Davis as a child, Grayce wasn’t quick enough to hide her reaction to the question.

“Oh, I can see it in your eyes.” Aunt Aideen gave another loud chortle, her endless joy exploding and expanding into the atmosphere.

Davis had warned Grayce about his aunt’s beliefs. He’d been very clear about his feelings concerning intuition and psychic phenomenon. He couldn’t believe anyone as intelligent as his aunt could believe in such crap.

Grayce had hoped to avoid the whole conversation about other worldly gifts.

“I should live up to my reputation and read your palm tonight, but I’m a bit fagged from the jet lag. Make sure when you meet Ewan’s sisters, you tell them I’m going to read your palm and cards.” There it was again, the loud chortle. Then she whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell the girls this, but I don’t need to read your palm to know how special you are. It’ll be our little secret.”

Aunt Aideen stood when Davis came back into the dining room. “I’m sure you both have lots to do tonight.” The Davis family eyes danced with mischief. Aunt Aideen thought she knew exactly how they were going to spend their evening. What was she thinking? This was only their second date.

Grayce picked up the last plates and headed to the kitchen.

Mitzi woke from her deep slumber and trotted behind Grayce into the kitchen. The dog rolled over and played dead for the crust of Grayce’s pie.

“I always knew she was an amazing actress, but I had no idea she knew that trick,” Grayce said.

“My grandkids taught it to her. Mitzi is an amazing dog. Best thing Daphne ever did.”

Aunt Aideen’s mention of Davis’ old girlfriend and Mitzi’s previous owner seemed to be a signal between Davis and his aunt.

Davis picked his Aunt Aideen up and squeezed her. In the Davis family, it seemed demonstrations of brute strength were part of their communication. “Okay, okay. You’re right as always,” was all she could hear Davis whisper to his aunt.

Aunt Aideen was giggling when Davis put her down. “That boy just doesn’t know his strength.”

Aunt Aideen hugged Grayce tight. “Welcome to the Davis family.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rule Number Four: Trust your gut.

Davis’ gut was dancing, boogying and doing the cha-cha after his conversation with Zac at the Seattle Division FBI Headquarters on Third Avenue. A major heroin route went through Alaska. Afghanistan’s one hundred billion dollar heroin business was exported to Russia, then dispersed throughout the world and Alaska was one of the conduits.

His hypothesis that heroin was packed in crab cases and delivered straight to Fisherman’s Terminal didn’t seem so improbable. All he needed was proof. There lay the challenge and the struggle of fire investigation. The proof was under fallen lumber, buried in ashes. He needed a crane to get under the fallen roof. He was willing to beg Maclean if it meant he would uncover evidence of drug smuggling.

Once he had definite proof that this was a drug smuggling case, he’d call the Feds. Then everyone would be involved—Coast Guard, DEA, ICE, FBI and he would lose total control of the case. At this point, all he had were disjointed clues. He liked to solve his own problems, especially when one of his problems might be a retired firefighter.