Death Takes a Holiday (12 page)

Ugh. I take the seat between Nana and Brian. Noticeable to only me, because I’m looking for it, Brian shifts in his chair as far from me as possible.

“So, do you like your new job?” Renata asks.

“It’s okay. Lotta travel and paperwork, but it’s fulfilling.”

“Well, I’m so sorry you couldn’t make it to the wedding. I know it was short notice and all, but we would have loved to have had you there.”

“Huh?” I ask.

Brian smiles. “You were in Atlanta then, right?” He meets my eyes, not exactly pleading, more like threatening me to keep up his lie.

No, I wasn’t invited to my only brother’s wedding. I didn’t even know about it until weeks after the fact. Heck, if I hadn’t flown home, the first time I’d ever get to meet my nephew would probably be at his high school graduation. Now, I could totally blow him out of the water, and
boy
would it feel good, but then we’d get into a fight. He’d storm out and Nana wouldn’t get quality baby time. Being good totally sucks sometimes.

“No, I think it was Seattle,” I say. “I am really sorry I missed it.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Brian says. “We understood.”

I want to roll my eyes but stop myself.

“He is such a good baby,” Nana tells them. “How often does he wake up in the night?”

“Twice,” Renata says. Then all of a sudden she entwines her fingers and presses her hands to her chest, tearing up. “We are so blessed.”

This time I don’t suppress the eye roll.

“We really are,” Brian says.

Two flawless teardrops roll down Renata’s cheeks. She stands up, embarrassed by this outpouring of emotion. “Excuse me,” she says before disappearing into the house.

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“Hormones,” Brian says.

“Give it a few weeks,” Nana says. “She’ll be fine.”

Without the need to act as if we’re a normal functioning family for Renata, the three of us sit in uncomfortable silence. I’m starting to think
comfortable
silences are a myth. Brian’s foot shakes, Nana glances back and forth at us, and I pretend to find the concrete fascinating. The last time the three of us were together, Brian wound up in the hospital and I fled the state. We have now entered Awkward City.

Brian takes it upon himself to fix the situation. “Is Kansas cold this time of year?”

“It
is
winter,” I say with a fake smile. “Though it’s not as bad as Atlanta, or was it Seattle, in the summer?” First blood is mine.

His jaw sets. “I had to tell her something.”

“Or you could have, I don’t know, invited me?”

“And risk you killing one of the guests because they ate the last shrimp? I don’t think so.”

“Stop it!” Nana says. “Both of you. You’ll upset the baby.”

He looks fine sucking on the bottle with his eyes closed.

“
You
could have told me,” I say to Nana.

“Brian wanted to be the one to do it,” she says. “And I am done being in the middle of you two. You were both wrong, but it’s over. It’s time to move on.”

“She tried to kill me!”

“It was an accident!”

“It is time to move on,” Nana hisses in a low whisper. “We are a family. We are all we have! I want us to act like it, for God’s sake!” Now she’s on the verge of tears. Brian and I actually unite in our shock and empathy with both our mouths opening and eyes growing wide. Great, we’ve made Nana sad at Christmas. We suck.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t apologize to me,” she says, fighting back tears. “Apologize to each other.”

I gaze at Brian, and he at me. We exchange a look that says, “I’m game if you are,” though he’ll fake the sincerity. “I’m sorry I almost killed you,” I say. “Accidently.” And I am. It’s haunted me for months.

“And I’m sorry I called you all those horrible names.”

I want to say “what about the wedding and all those years of acting like a jerk,” but restrain myself.

“Okay, then,” Nana says. “Brian, I’m going to hand Mark to your sister. Is that alright?”

The flash of panic I feel from him doesn’t show. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, “I’ve held more babies than you.”

Nana passes the tiny infant into my cradling arms. God, I love babies. He smells like baby powder with a hint of flowers. He’s so light and fragile in my arms. His eyes open and I see my own staring up at me. His face hasn’t unsmooched from his journey into life, but he’s still cute. A lightness fills me as I run my finger down his soft cheek. I smile. “Hello, Mark. I’m your Aunt Bea.”

“He really likes you,” Nana says with pride.

“Good taste in women already, huh?” I say to him. “What’s his full name?”

“Marcus Stellan Alexander,” Brian says.

“I like it. A strong name, like a Roman emperor or something.”

“He looks so much like your mother as a baby,” Nana says.

“Yeah,” Brian says quietly. He runs his hand over Mark’s hair.

The baby opens his balled fist and grips my index finger like a champ. I lean down and kiss his forehead. “You are really lucky, Brian.”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t,” I say sadly. I look over at my brother. “You really don’t.”

And for an instant, one instant, my brother’s eyes brim with sympathy and even a little love for me. But only an instant. Renata walks back out with a bottle in hand. “Sorry about that. I had to pump.”

“TMI, sister-in-law,” I say. “TMI.”

Renata stops beside me, gazing down at us. “Oh! He likes you!”

“No accounting for taste, huh?” I ask with a smile.

She grins and takes her seat next to her husband. “So what about you, Bea? Caught the baby bug yet?”

What a loaded question. Ever since I was a kid I knew only one thing: I wanted a family. I’d pretend my dolls were my children: feeding them, changing them, telling them stories as I put them in their cradles. I drove April nuts. She wanted to play space warrior princess, and I just wanted to play house. She and I got married about a hundred times with me acting as the mother as she went out to punch aliens and save the world. Odd how real life turns out.

“My biological clock was wound up in my teens,” I tell Renata. “I want babies more than anything.”

“Any potential fathers in your orbit?” she asks with a huge grin.

I hate the blissful. It’s like they’re in a cult or something and want you to join no matter what. They won’t leave you alone until you’re the same as them. As if it’s so easy. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“No possibles even?” she asks.

“Maybe one or two.”

I have on more than several occasions imagined the life of Mr. and Mrs. Will and Beatrice Price, complete with children. They’d have his eyes, hair, and strength but my sense of humor and patience. Two boys and a girl I think. We’d live near here, maybe Chula Vista, so I can be close to April and Nana. The kids would play together in our back yard as April and I gossiped. Will would call from work every day just to tell us how much he loves us all. Then he’d return home and help with the kid’s homework while I made dinner and watched my family. He’d never get frustrated with them no matter how many times they asked the same question. We’d go to their events like baseball and ballet, watching proudly in the audience as we held hands. At night we’d take turns singing and reading them to sleep, then retire to our bedroom exhausted but blissful. I’d fall asleep in his strong arms with a smile on my face. A simple life. Not too much to ask for, right?

And when he’s not being an annoying jerk, I have found myself wondering what Oliver would be like as a father and husband. Fun for sure. But also loving and protective. I could see him holding the children for hours as they cry. I know this because he’s done this for me on more than one occasion. Our children would want for nothing, not attention or security or love. He’d tuck them in and tell them tales of all his adventures, though he’d make them G rated. Of course in this fantasy he has a pulse, so I know it’s never to be.

He’d make a fantastic father though, and it saddens me to the core that he can never be one again. He loves children. When we go out, if there are any there, he’ll wave and smile, even make silly faces. One night when we were watching a father and daughter skate around the roller rink he mentioned—in passing, as if it was nothing—that he had children before he was turned. A boy and girl. I was floored, had a billion questions, but he changed the subject before I could ask even one. I didn’t press, and he hasn’t brought it up since. I’ll get the story out of him someday.

“Then go for it,” Renata says. “It’s the most fulfilling thing in the world.”

“Someday,” I say. Please God, someday. The telephone rings inside, and I all but jump up. I have to get out of here before I tear up. “I’ll get it.”

I hand Mark to Brian, rushing inside. Thank God, I can breathe again. Talking about that stuff always makes me near suicidal. I think there’s a huge part of me that believes it’ll never happen. I can and have killed people with a thought. If I can even find a well-adjusted male who can accept that, do I want to pass this trait onto some innocent person? I’m not normal, so what makes me think I can have a normal life? Especially now. My life is steeped in violence and death, and my only potential mates are a living dead guy who can’t have children and a werewolf. Even if a miracle happened and Will and I found a way to be together, our children would be psychokinetic werewolves. How would we even begin to deal with that? Their teenage years would be unbearable. Even more so than normal.

I pick up the phone. “Hello?” I ask.

“Bea? It’s Steven.”

Steven. Nice, boring, reliable Steven, who provided me with the closest thing to an ordinary relationship I’ve ever and probably will ever have. If I hadn’t broken up with him we could have been married by now, maybe with a baby of our own on the way. I think for the first time ever, I regret breaking up with him. Didn’t think that would ever happen.

“Hi, Steven. How are you?”

“Fine. Great,” he says, sounding surprised for some reason. “You?”

“Brian’s here with his new wife and son.”

“How’s that going?” Steven knows about the strain but not the cause.

“Better than expected.”

“Oh,” he says, the cheer draining from his voice. “Then I guess you don’t want to go bowling.”

“Bowling?”

“Yeah, some of us are getting together and meeting down at the lanes. I thought you might like to come. Maybe get dinner after.”

If I didn’t know better I’d swear I was just asked out on a date. That hasn’t happened in months. The last guy who asked me out I met on a case. Joe West, former quarterback with a great smile and even better mother who helped me on the Dallas case. If all heck hadn’t broken loose I would have accepted, but things like that never work out for me. At least I got an e-mail buddy in Anna West.

As for Steven’s proposal, it’s not as if I have anything better to do. God knows I don’t want to stick around here much longer. It’s only a matter of time before the truce is broken and we’re attacking each other like pit bulls. And I doubt Steven would make a move on me, that is unless I gave him permission. Of course that opens up a whole other can of worms.

A nice, boring, normal date with a nice, boring, normal man. “You know what? I would love to.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. But just so you know, I’ve gotten a lot better since we last played together. I might just beat you for once.”

“Bea, if you can break a hundred, I’ll buy all your drinks for the night,” he chuckles.

“Then bring
lots
of cash.”

“We’re meeting at six. Remember the place?”

“Considering a quarter of all our dates were there, yeah, I remember where it is.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he says casually.

“Bye.” I hang up. Huh. For the first time in over a year, I have a date. Kind of. Sort of. Sure, it’s with my ex at a bowling alley with other people, but my ego will take it.

I meander back outside, plastering a huge grin on my face. I have to sell this if I want out of here with minimal guilt and fuss. Nana holds the baby with the adoring parents watching in awe as the baby suckles his pacifier. You’d think he was splitting the atom or some-
thing.

“Who was on the phone?” Nana asks.

“Guys, I am
so
sorry, but I forgot I was supposed to meet Steven in half an hour.”

“Your ex-boyfriend?” Brian asks.

“Yeah. We made plans a few days ago, and it completely slipped my mind. This is the only day he has off all this week.”

Brian and Renata exchange a look that screams, “What a flake,” but I don’t care. If I have to spend another minute with The Blissfuls I’ll either cry, scream, or puke. Nana doesn’t hide her disappointment, her brow furrowing. “Bea, you knew Brian was coming over this evening.”

“I know but … ” I smile to myself and look down like a demure virgin faced with a naked man, “I really want to see him again.”