ONE SMALL VICTORY (5 page)

His father stood on the other side of his
mother, hands clasped behind his back. His suit coat was
unbuttoned, allowing the wind to lift the end of a Mickey Mouse
tie. Scott vaguely remembered sending that to him for Christmas a
few years ago. Did he think he’d get points for wearing it? His dad
turned as if sensing that he was being watched.

Scott wanted to feel some emotion beyond
indifference toward the man. He’d at least had the decency to show
up for the funeral. But even his little smile of encouragement
failed to stir a shred of affection. How could they have become
such strangers in just a few short years?

Last night at the funeral home, his father
had said Scott could call on him anytime. “I know I haven’t been a
great father. Hell, I haven’t even been a good father. But I do
care. And I will help you if you ever need it.”

If the little speech was supposed to be
reassuring, it had had the opposite effect. Scott had employed
every ounce of restraint he had to keep from striking out. If the
fucker really cared he wouldn’t have been gone all this time.

Another surge of anger swept over him and he
had a hard time separating the anger he was feeling toward his dad
and that he held for his brother.

And both of them felt so wrong.

Caitlin slipped her hand into his and the
cool touch of her skin was soothing. He squeezed her hand and she
returned the pressure. He could almost feel the ugly emotions drain
out of him in response to her comfort. His was glad his mother
allowed Caitlin to be up here with family. It’s not like she had
any right to be. They weren’t engaged or anything. Weren’t even an
item. Not yet, anyway. The friendship was too new for anything like
that. But he felt good around her, and he needed that goodness
right now.

His whole life had been shattered, and he was
still waiting for all the pieces to fall.

~*~

The scene was so much like the one a few days
ago, Jenny wondered for a moment if she was in some weird time
warp. They were all gathered in her living room again. Her Mom.
Carol. Mitchell and Jeffrey. And dear, sweet Millie. All of the
people who had been in and out of her house a hundred times since
that first awful day.

Now it was the second worse day of her life,
and she noted the differences. Her brother Jim, stood talking to
their mother. He’d come alone. Anna, only a few weeks from
delivering their third child, wasn’t able to make the trip.
Complications had her in bed for the duration.

Caitlin hovered with Scott and Alicia in a
far corner. Perhaps they all felt a little awkward in the presence
of so many adults. Or was there some level of comfort that drew
them together?

Ralph stood alone in the doorway between the
living room and the kitchen, looking uncomfortable in this home
they had not shared. She’d moved up here from Plano after their
divorce, seeking the slower pace of small-town living. He’d moved
to California the following year without having set a foot into the
new house.

The fact that he’d never seen it was the
strongest evidence of his lack of interest in the kids and their
lives.

Earlier, their home had been jammed with
after-the-funeral-well-wishers. Most of whom had stayed briefly,
then left as if eager to escape. Many of the visitors had brought
more food and she wondered how she was ever supposed to know whom
to thank for all this kindness.

She tried to smile and act the hostess when
anyone stared at her too long, and she knew she’d scream if one
more person said how sorry he or she was. If she just kept busy,
she wouldn’t have to think about what they’d done just a few short
hours ago. And if she ate, even though her stomach rebelled at the
thought, nobody would want to hug her when she had a plate of
food.

So that’s how she got through the last couple
of hours, until more people started drifting off.

Jim embraced their mother, then strode toward
Jenny. He took the plate from her hands and set it on the
sideboard, then pulled her close. Even though he was younger, he’d
always played the older brother role, and she’d learned to count on
him for comfort and protection when needed. And oh, how she needed
it now. She leaned into his strength for a long moment, savoring
the warm, masculine smell of his cologne and the feel of strong
muscles as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’ve got to go, little Sis.”

Jenny stepped back. “I’m so glad you
came.”

“Me, too.” Emotion clouded his face and he
glanced away.

“Want me to drive you to the airport?”

He shook his head. “I’m hitching a ride with
your ex.”

“Really?” Jenny couldn’t hide the
surprise.

Jim chuckled. “Yeah. Figured that would give
me an hour or so to rip him a new one.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Naw. Not that I don’t want to. Never did get
to tell the bastard what I thought of him.”

Jenny smoothed the lapels of his coat. “Give
Anna my love.”

“Will do.”

“And call me when the baby comes.”

“Of course.”

Jenny watched him walk toward Ralph, who was
now apparently saying goodbye to the kids. She thought about
following. Common courtesy would prompt her to see any guest to the
door, but she just didn’t know how much longer she could keep up
this façade of civility.

As if sensing her reluctance, Ralph merely
waved at her before heading toward the door with Jim. Alicia tagged
along s if sensing someone had to play hostess.

A little while later, Mitchell left with
Jeffrey after assuring her that he would cover the store for as
long as she needed him to. The reassurance was a small bit of
comfort on this horrible day, and she smiled her thanks.

Finally Jenny was alone. She stood in the
middle of the room, wondering what she was supposed to do now. One
of the grief brochures Hobkins had given her had said that the
funeral was supposed to bring closure. That often it marked a
turning toward regaining life.

She hadn’t felt anything close to closure
this afternoon.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jenny pulled up in front of the white frame
house and turned off the engine. It seemed like years since she’d
been here, not just a few weeks, and she saw the old Victorian
structure with a mixture of familiarity and surprise at details
forgotten; much like a soldier might view his home after a tour of
duty. The sign still needed a fresh coat of paint. And the name
she’d thought was so clever seven years ago struck her as silly
today. A TOUCH OF JOY/Flowers for all Occasions.

She was so glad that Scott had stood firm
about no flowers at the funeral parlor. It was hard enough coming
back to work without having her business be a constant reminder.
Although maybe the reminder would be good. For the past two weeks
she’d alternated between moments of such clarity the pain had cut
deep and total disorientation where she felt almost nothing.
Sometimes she even had trouble remembering what the funeral had
been like. And she was still waiting for that turning point.

Ralph had surprised her a week after the
funeral by calling and his voice had not seemed heavy with grief
anymore. Had he found the corner and turned it? Or was the ease of
conversation just because they both avoided any mention of
Michael?

The biggest surprise of his call was his
request to talk to the kids. He actually spent more than two
minutes talking to each of them, and she wondered if losing Michael
had made Ralph realize some things. She certainly hoped so. The
kids needed a father. God knows I haven’t done such a hot job
trying to carry the load alone. Maybe that’s why—

Jenny tore herself away from the thought and
opened her car door. Go to work and don’t try to figure out the
‘why.’

Pushing through the front door, she had a
moment of disorientation as if she were stepping into the store for
the first time. Even the bell announcing her arrival seemed alien.
She hardly had time to consider why that was happening before
Mitchell looked up from the papers strewn across the front counter.
He rushed over to crush her against his six-foot frame. “Jen. How
are you?”

“I’ll be better when you let me breathe.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He stepped back and considered
her with his pale green eyes. “The funeral was lovely.”

“Yes. Yes it was.” Jenny swallowed the sudden
lump.

Mitchell touched her arm gently. “You
shouldn’t be here.”

The sentiment almost undid her. She forced a
smile and tried for a joke. “I own this place in case you
forgot.”

Mitchell smiled, too, and it was like a light
came on in a dark room.

There. You can do this. All you have to do is
pretend things are normal and everyone will think they are.

Mitchell walked back to where he’d been
working. Jenny hung her denim jacket on the coat tree by the door
and followed him behind the counter that spanned the front of the
room. Before the conversion into a retail space, this had been the
parlor of the stately old house. The large kitchen and dining room
directly behind it provided the main work area.

The counter had once been the bar at The
Broken Spoke – a now defunct country joint that used to book some
incredible local bands. The deep mahogany had been restored and
polished to a rich shine that was almost mirror-perfect.

“What do we have so far today?” Jenny asked,
picking up a stack of order forms and leafing through them.

“An anniversary bouquet. Three gifts for the
hospital and two funeral arrangements.”

Jenny didn’t miss the quick glance he shot
her beneath the straggles of blonde hair that washed over his broad
forehead.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to
break every time somebody says ‘funeral.’”

The words rang with bravery, and she wished
she were as sure of them on the inside.

“Still. Maybe you should take a few more
days.” Mitchell picked up a yellow carnation and slipped it into
the arrangement he’d been working on when she’d walked in. Even
though he pretended concentration, Jenny felt his eyes on her.

“I’ll be fine.” She grabbed an apron and tied
it. “But I’ll work on the hospital gifts.”

He glanced up and she flashed him a quick
smile. “Gotcha.”

By noon several more orders had come in, and
Mitchell ran to make the hospital deliveries. Jenny finished the
anniversary flowers and prioritized the new orders. If Mitchell
made it back within an hour, they’d be able to get everything done
by three. But first, lunch.

She went into the back room and grabbed her
bag and a cola out of the old refrigerator, kicking the door closed
with her toe. There was a state-of-the-art refrigeration system for
the flowers, but the food was housed in a broken down Kenmore that
groaned with the effort to keep the interior temperature below 45
degrees. The incongruity made Jenny smile. Maybe Marie Antoinette
should have said, “Let them eat roses.”

Clearing a space on the card table, Jenny
unwrapped her PB and J sandwich. It had been a year since she’d
trusted anything else to the venerable refrigerator.

As she ate, she went through the
accounts-receivable ledger and noticed that several old accounts
had been brought up to date. She wondered what Mitchell had done.
Threatened a few limbs? A picture of the man threatening anything
was impossible to conjure. If he ever killed anyone, it would be
with kindness. And again, for the millionth time since he’d come to
work for her, Jenny wondered why the nicest, most sensitive men had
to be gay.

If she could find someone like him who also
liked a good heterosexual romp, she might even cast caution aside
and go play. It had been a long time. Partly because she’d been too
hurt when Ralph left and partly because she didn’t have time to
breathe when the kids were younger and she was drowning in their
needs. The time to find and engage a partner in any kind of bedroom
activity had simply been non-existent.

“But just don’t let it atrophy,” Carol had
cautioned during one late-night pajama party - which they both had
agreed was better than the ones of high school because they could
have beer with their pizza. “There might actually come a time when
you want to use it.”

“Fat chance.”

And here today, surrounded by symbols of love
and romance, she had the same thought. She’d probably win the
lottery before she ever met a man who could ease her out of her
fears and love her for all her peculiarities, not in spite of
them.

When the front bells clattered, Jenny glanced
at her watch, surprised to see that she’d been lost in that reverie
for almost a half-hour. She must have had some kind of guilty
expression because Mitchell laughed at her. "You look like Jeffrey
when I catch him taking the last Oreo."

~*~

The afternoon was so perfect, Jenny wished
she could bottle it and save it for the heart of the winter. A
light breeze chased gold and brown leaves down the sidewalk and the
sun rendered a stand of yellow mums so spectacular the sight almost
took her breath away. She was glad that Mitchell had literally
pushed her out the door and told her to, “Go smell the leaves.”

Yet a part of her that was still melancholy
ached with the knowledge that Michael would never see a glorious
day like this again. She wished it wasn’t this way. That everything
wasn’t measured by loss. Will there ever be a day that I won’t
think of something in terms of Michael?

She rounded the corner and saw the high
school down at the end of the block, kids streaming out the front
doors like horses being turned out of a stable. When she realized
she was looking for Michael, she forced herself to repeat mentally,
“He isn’t here.”

Watching a small group of boys break off from
the crowd, Jenny paused and turned to follow them with her gaze as
they approached two older boys. Something in their manner held her
curiosity as they paused briefly. She wasn't sure, but it looked
like one of the older boys passed something to one of the
others.