“Jesus, you said it. That guy is a goddamn monster. If he ever gets out of that hospital, I hope someone hunts him down and kills his ass.”
“Part of me wants that too, but mostly so Nicole can sleep at night. I’m too worried about karma to wish death on the guy.”
“Did you really find nothing?” Helen’s staring at him funny.
Brian’s never been able to get away with lying to her. “Actually I found the picture, but he pretty much destroyed it. I have it in my pocket. Maybe someone can fix it. But I don’t want her to see it.”
“You don’t want me to see what?”
Brian spins around and faces Nicole at the door, reversing into the drawer to close it with the back of his thighs.
“Uhhh … nothing? The bedroom?” He looks around in a panic.
Nicole comes into the room and stands at the foot of the bed facing Helen and Brian. “I feel better now that I’m in here. Now that I’ve seen Kitten’s old resting place. Tell me what you found.”
Brian tenses his jaw muscle, hating that he opened his big mouth.
“Just tell her. She can take it. She’s strong.” Helen leaves the room. “I’ll be downstairs,” she says from the hallway.
“Tell me. She’s right, I am strong. I feel like I could take anything right now.”
“I found the picture.” He puts his hands on her upper arms. “He ripped it up and put it back in the frame in pieces. I think I can get someone to put it back together, though.”
“Where is it?” She looks around the room.
Brian drops his hands. “It’s in my pocket. The pieces, anyway. The frame’s under the bed.”
Nicole crosses her arms. “You were going to hide it from me?”
The guilt attacks him full force. “I was just trying to protect you. It wasn’t … nice.”
She drops her arms. “You’re going to have to stop doing that all the time. I need to stand on my own now.”
Brian backs up and walks over to the window. “I don’t want to stop. I want to protect you forever. That’s my job.”
Nicole walks up behind him as he looks down over the graves, both of them empty now. It makes him furious and sick to see the holes meant for people he loves. He never met Kitten, but it doesn’t matter. He loves her like she’s his own child now and her loss is horribly painful.
“If I never learn to protect myself, I’ll never feel safe. Can you understand that?”
He sighs heavily. “I guess I can. But that doesn’t change my feelings.”
“How about we agree to let me do the best I can at protecting myself, and if I ever fall down, you be ready to step in. Can we do it that way?”
He turns around to face her. Her expression breaks him. “Yeah, babe. We can do it that way.” He takes her in his arms, wishing he could take her away from everything, but knowing that would be the worst thing to do for her right now. The powerlessness is killing him.
“Thank you. Thank you for understanding and for everything.”
“I love you, Nicole.”
“I love you too, Brian. And Liam. And Helen.”
“Ready to go?”
She looks up. “I just want to show you where Kitten was born first. I need to see it one more time and then never again.”
He nods, unable to voice his response. Now is not the time to lose it, and he’s on a hair trigger.
Nicole brings him down to the garage door that’s off the foyer. They’re joined by Agnes and Helen. They’re looking at each other with questions in their eyes, but Helen is the only one who speaks.
“Where’s this lead to?” she asks.
“The garage,” Nicole says in a soft voice. She opens the door and swings it wide. Stepping out onto the hard floor, she shuffles over to the far corner.
Brian follows, his mood somber and his heart aching. He cannot fathom what could possibly have been going on inside her head that night to make her think this was her best choice. This is where a dog or a cat or even a rodent would come to give birth, not a young woman about to have a baby girl. This isn’t even close to fit for a human being, let alone the woman he sees standing before him. There are oil stains everywhere, dirt balls, dust, and particles of God knows what on everything. It smells like something old and awful.
“That’s it,” she says, pointing to a dark place.
Brian moves over to it and squints through the darkness. It’s when his eyes become used to the dim lighting that he realizes there are blankets there. Stained blankets.
“Oh shit,” he whispers. “It’s still …”
“I couldn’t ever come out here before,” she says. “And John left it there to torture me. He talked about it sometimes.”
“I have to leave. I’m sorry,” says Agnes, before stepping back into the house.
Nicole stands there, her head held up and her eyes clear. “That’s where my daughter was born. It’s sacred to me.” Her voice is strong.
Helen rubs her back. “You are the strongest woman I know. You went through so much and you came out here to save yourself and her. I’m so pissed you won’t fight that charge.”
“I don’t want to talk about that anymore,” Nicole says, turning around, no anger in her voice. She sounds resigned and … free, for the first time since Brian met her. “I’m ready to go now.”
Brian looks back one more time at the spot in the corner of the garage before joining her and Helen in the front hall. Agnes is out on the porch.
“So, we all ready to go?” asks Brian.
“Ghosts exorcised?” asks Helen.
Nicole nods. “Yep. I’m ready to leave this all behind me.”
They walk out of the house, not bothering to lock up behind them.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
THE MORNING OF THE FUNERAL dawns rainy and gray. It’s a fitting backdrop to the sad affair. Nicole is sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea when Brian walks in with a suit on.
“Wow. You look handsome,” she says. She looks down at the table, embarrassed that the words flew out of her mouth before she could think them through. It’s happening a lot lately. Her bravery is getting the better of her, but try as she might, she can’t hate it. It feels right to speak her mind for a change.
“And you are the most beautiful girl in the whole city today. I’m sure Kitten is looking down on her momma and saying so herself.” He bends down and kisses her head. But he doesn’t move away, instead he clears his throat.
Nicole turns around in her seat and catches him looking very uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I have something to show you. I’m not sure, though, if you’re going to like it.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s out in the shop.”
Nicole stands. “Of course I’m going to like it. Show me. What is it?”
Brian holds out his hand, silently asking her to follow him.
Nicole goes with Brian to the door leading into the workshop.
He turns to her and says, “I had to do this. It’s not for you. It’s for her. For Kitten. I know if it were Liam … I’d want this.” He opens the door and turns on the light.
In the middle of the room is a very small coffin.
Nicole’s hand flies to her mouth. It trembles as the tears come to run over the back of her fingers. “Oh my god,” she whispers.
“Are you upset? Oh shit, you’re upset.” He shuts off the light.
“No!” she screams, scrambling for the switch. “Turn it on!”
Their fingers reach the switch at the same time and the light goes on again. Nicole steps down into the shop and makes her way across the sawdust-covered floor to the place where the work of art rests.
Her hand comes away from her face and hovers over the wood. It wavers there, shaking, for the briefest of moments before she lowers it to the warm wood.
It’s been buffed to a high gloss with inlays of different types of wood making it have swirls and shapes of different co
lors. On the top is an inlaid daisy. Nicole traces the design with her finger. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Are you mad?” Brian asks, coming over to stand next to her.
“Of course I’m not mad,” she responds, glancing up at him for a moment before going back to touching the scalloped edges and soft rounded corners. “It’s gorgeous. It’s … like something for a princess.”
“Or a little girl who didn’t get her chance,” he says softly.
Nicole turns and sees the tears in his eyes. “You’re crying.”
“Of course. I have my little man. You lost your little girl. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.” He turns around, throwing his forearm up across his eyes. “Shit. Sorry. I was supposed to save these for the funeral.”
“Are we going to use this?” Nicole asks, giving him space to gather himself. She can’t seem to move away from the coffin for anything, not even to ease his pain. It’s like she’s already inside, even though she knows Kitten is at the funeral home.
“If you want. Only if you want. I finished it last night while you were sleeping.”
“I want to. I want her to have this.”
“Then I need to get it loaded up. I worked it out with the funeral home. They said they could transfer her in, but only if we get there an hour early.”
Nicole spins around. “I’m ready now. Right now.”
Brian nods once. “Fine.” He digs the keys out of his pocket. “Turn the car around and back it in, okay? I’ll get it ready to load.”
Nicole hits the button to open up the garage door and rushes to the car. Forward movement. I love my daughter. If she can’t be with me, I want her to have a goodbye that is as beautiful as she was. The sick feeling she had in the pit of her stomach is just a little less painful than it was ten minutes ago.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
THE FUNERAL HOME HOSTS A very small, private service attended only by Brian, Helen, Agnes, Nicole’s attorney and Nicole herself. She asked that Liam not be there, and Brian was in full agreement. His son is happily spending the day at a baseball game with Hank.
Brian stares at the coffin and Nicole’s back as she rests in front of it on her knees. She’s staring at the top of it and resting her hand on the daisy he inlaid there, his work of art and the only piece of woodworking he’s done that made him cry from beginning to end.
In a way it was therapeutic. All the anger, pain, and frustration he experienced helping Nicole through her trauma was channeled into that project. He started it the day he learned about Kitten, selecting the wood and drawing out the concept, and with every hour that he cut and mitered and glued and sanded and varnished, the tragedy became easier to bear. The sense of unfairness never left, but he expects that it never will.
His own love for his boy has grown stronger, and he cherishes their time together more than he would have thought possible. Silver linings are never good enough to make up for the clouds, but they do have their place in the scheme of things.
Nicole stands and comes over to join Brian, taking the seat next to him. Everyone has tissues out and they’re using them up quickly. A priest Agnes introduced them to says a few words, and then Helen stands. She walks to the front of the room and faces the few people in the chairs, but her eyes are for Nicole only.
“I never met Kitten,” she says. “I wish I had. I know if I had, I would have seen that she has beautiful eyes like her mom’s. She would have smiled a lot and laughed a lot and said silly things when she was old enough. And she would have loved her momma, because Nicole is smart, and funny, and above all things, loving. She’s made it through a terrible ordeal and come out a whole, interesting, and strong woman on the other side. I know Kitten is in heaven looking down with pride on her, like we all are.”
She has more to say, but she can’t do it. The tears take over and she has to move to her seat. Brian’s heart is full of pride for his ex-wife, his friend. She has a huge heart, and even though she tries to hide it behind a tough exterior, he knows it’s as soft as a marshmallow. He nods at her when she looks over.
Nicole stands and goes to the coffin. Resting her hand on the top, she turns to face the group in front of her.
Brian stares at her, looking her in the eyes, trying to let her know with the strength of his gaze how much he cares about her and believes in her.
“I remember holding her in my arms. It wasn’t for a long time, but it was enough to fall in love. She had the sweetest little bald head. I don’t know if I mentioned that before. It was pink, after I wiped it off. I kissed her over and over, and I remember the feeling of peach-fuzz where there should have been hair.” She smiles sadly, her eyes getting a far away look. “I always wondered if my kids would be born with hair when I was little, and then there she was, bald as a cue ball.” Nicole looks at the coffin as she continues. “And her fingers were tiny, tiny. She held onto me with them. I remember her grip. It was strong.” She takes a deep, wavering breath and then lets it out slowly as she looks back at her audience. “Kitten and I want to thank all of you for standing by us and helping us get this far. And we want to especially thank Brian for giving her this beautiful princess bed to sleep in for the rest of her years on this earth, before her body disappears and becomes a part of the dust she came from.” She rubs the top of the coffin. Her last words are whispered, shared only with the little girl in the box. “Goodbye, Kitten. I love you. I’ll miss you forever.”
Chapter Sixty
NICOLE IS SLEEPING WHEN BRIAN’S cell phone rings. He rushes to answer it so she won’t hear it through her closed door and wake up.
“Hello, this is Brian,” he says in a hushed voice as he moves down the hallway towards the living room.
“Brian, hi this is Gary, Nicole’s attorney.” He sounds distracted, maybe angry.
“Hey, Gary. Nicole’s asleep right now. She’s exhausted from the service and the burial. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Actually, yes.” He hisses out a loud breath of air before continuing.
Brian gets the weird impression that the guy’s not making a professional call exactly. There’s something off in his tone…
“There’s just … something’s been bugging the shit out of me since the service today, and I can’t get it off my mind. I guess I just want someone to either talk me off the ledge or tell me to call in the cavalry or something.”
Brian frowns. This is the last thing he expected to hear from Nicole’s lawyer; he’s definitely not in his regular all-business mode. Something has him really upset, and as much as Brian would like to never have to talk to the guy again, he can’t help but ask. “Okay, shoot. What’s on your mind?”
“Remember today when Nicole was saying her peace at the service?”
“Yeah…” Brian can’t for the life of him figure out where this conversation is going, but it’s clear the guy is freaked out.
“And she went on and on about the baby’s bald head, right? Or did I just imagine that?”
“No, it’s true. She did say a couple things about it. Why? What does it matter?”
“Have you read the coroner’s report?”
“No.” Brian suddenly gets goosebumps. Something is very wrong. He can feel it and he can hear it in Gary’s tone.
“I’m going to email it to you right now. I don’t want to say anything until you read it. Give me your address.”
Brian rattles it off and then strides over to his computer, bringing up his email account. His inbox has several new messages, but another new one pops up as soon as he refreshes the page. “Wow, you’re fast.”
“Never doubt the skills of a motivated attorney. Read the attachment.”
Brian double-clicks the document file that’s attached. “What am I looking at here?” His eyes scan the pages, trying to figure out what the big deal is.
“Look on page three, the description of the corpse.”
“God, I hate that word,” Brian says under his breath as he pages down.
&
nbsp; “I know. Me too, especially when it comes to a baby, but whatever. Read it.”
Brian hears the sound of Gary taking a drink from a bottle. Probably a beer. Maybe that explains his distracted but intense delivery.
Brian’s lips move in time with his brain as it reads the text. In the several large paragraphs describing the state of the corpse, one line sticks out to him: …skull intact encircled with layers of tape, dark hair of approximately one inch in length embedded in adhesive…
“What the fuck, right?” The lawyer waits for Brian’s response.
“Tell me what you see,” Brian says, not sure he gets what’s going on, but deep down knowing there is something very, very wrong here.
“I see a goddamn baby with tons of hair, Brian. Not a bald one. Or I’m just going insane and I need to go out and get hammered right now.”
“Sounds like you’re already on your way.”
“I am. I am, it’s true. That’s why I’m calling you. I need sober eyes and a clear head, and I don’t have it right now. Today fucking wrecked me.”
Brian’s shaking his head, reading that line over and over and over.
…skull intact encircled with layers of tape, dark hair of approximately one inch in length embedded in adhesive…
…encircled with layers of tape, dark hair of approximately one inch in length embedded in adhesive…
…dark hair of approximately one inch in length embedded in adhesive…
“You’re right. This sounds like the baby that the coroner examined had at least some hair.”
“And she said the baby was as bald…”
“…As a cue ball. I remember. She said that.” Brian’s hand goes slack as the whole thing comes together for him, and he drops the phone. Scrambling to pick it up, he gets it to his ear finally, but his eyes never leave the screen. “Shit, sorry about that. Dropped the phone.”
“Okay, so I was right … I need to get on this.”
“What are you going to do?” Brian stands, staring at the entrance to the hallway, knowing that waking Nicole with this stuff right now would be a bad idea, but also knowing that not telling her could get her twice as upset later.