Starting from Scratch (12 page)

L
ooking back later, Elisha could only describe the hours after Henry's death as sheer hell.

In an effort for self-preservation, she disassociated herself from what she was doing. She was vaguely aware of watching even as she was doing. Aware of standing on the sidelines, watching herself as she somehow managed to go through the paces, going from point A to point B as she set about getting things organized.

The pain was endless.

With Beth clinging to her and Andrea moving like a shell-shocked soldier beside her, Elisha followed the ICU nurse to the tiny office designated to the Social Services Department. It was restricted to just one person, Jennifer Mendoza.

Jennifer found chairs for all three of them and encouraged them to sit. She had a soft, comforting voice and kind eyes. Information about Henry, his time of death as well as his home address, was already on her computer screen. She'd pulled it up the second the ICU nurse had given her Henry's name.

Within minutes, Jennifer helped her get in contact with a respected mortuary on Long Island located close to the cemetery where Rachel had been buried. Elisha had remembered that Henry had reserved the space beside his wife the same time he had made arrangements for her funeral.

That was Henry, Elisha thought. Always prepared. For everything but this.

“Are you sure you'll be all right?” Jennifer asked as Elisha rose to her feet. Elisha had given her best trouper smile. The woman seemed to see right through her. “Here's my card.” She plucked a white business card embossed with several numbers. “Call me if you need to talk.”

Elisha remembered pocketing the card as she walked out. She didn't remember which pocket. Didn't really remember the ride to Henry's house that followed, only that Beth had leaned against her, crying again. Anne had insisted on remaining with them while Elisha talked to the woman at social services and then drove all of them home.

“I'll stay with the girls while you make arrangements for the funeral service,” Anne volunteered as she pulled up in the driveway.

The house looked dark. She fully expected to see Henry throwing open the door, calling out a greeting. But the door remained closed.

“Do you have a license?”

She realized that Anne was asking her something. “Excuse me?”

“A driver's license,” Anne clarified. “Do you have one?”

“Yes, but I don't have a car. I can get around faster on foot in the city.” She helped Beth out of the car. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea why the woman was asking her that. “Why?”

“You can take mine. To go to the church,” Anne prompted when Elisha said nothing. “To make arrangements for the funeral service.”

This is your department, not mine, Henry, Elisha thought. When their parents had died, Henry had been the one who had stepped up to the plate and handled all the arrangements. Because she just couldn't. She'd always been a whiz at multitasking. She'd been doing it ever since she could remember, but handling death and everything that went with it was something she just couldn't make herself face.

Gotta do it now, Lise. No way out.

“Thank you.” Elisha took the keys that Anne offered. “I'll be back as soon as I can, girls,” she promised. Bracing herself, she drove to the church where Henry and Rachel had gotten married. The church where final words had been said over Rachel's coffin and now, they would soon be said over Henry's.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she made her way down the street.

 

The pastor at the church that Henry and the girls attended on Sundays was very upset to hear about her brother's passing. He offered Elisha tea and sympathy. She passed on the first, dutifully listened to the second even though it didn't help. To her relief, arrangements for Henry's funeral services were made quickly and simply.

Walking her to her car, the pastor repeated the words that the woman from social services had uttered. “Call me if you need anything.”

I need Henry back. What can you do about that?

But she managed to smile as she accepted the card that he had pulled out of his pocket. “Thank you, you've been very kind.”

“My Boss expects it,” he replied as he closed the car door.

She didn't remember the drive back to Henry's house. Only that it was lonely. Drained, she walked into the house, setting the car keys down on the table in the foyer. All she wanted to do was slip into a coma. But there were still more things to do. A line from Frost drifted through her brain.

And miles to go before I sleep.

She looked at Andrea. “Did your dad keep an address book?”

The response was monotone, as if the personality that had been Andrea Reed had been completely drained out of her. “On the computer, why?”

“I have to notify his friends.”
Now, there's a ghoulish task. Hello, I'm calling about your friend Henry Reed. He's dead.

“They'll want to come to the funeral.”

Andrea frowned, then shrugged carelessly, as if it made no difference to her if anyone came to the service or not. “Whatever.”

Alarms went off in Elisha's head. Like all teenagers, Andrea had her ups and downs, but this was more than a step beyond that. “Andrea, do you want to talk?”

Something dark and moody flared in the girl's brilliant blue eyes. “No.” Her lips pressed down firmly, forming a barrier, locking away any communication.

Elisha tried anyway. “Honey, this was a terrible thing that happened. We're all hurting right now and it's going to take time for things to settle in—”

“Are we going to have to go to an orphanage?” Beth was suddenly in front of her, clutching at her imploringly. Elisha looked down at a trembling lower lip.

The only nodding acquaintance Beth had with the term
orphanage
had arisen out of watching a stage production of
Annie
last year. The girls in the play had been forced to work hard. That was probably the image that was replaying itself in Beth's head now, Elisha realized.

“Oh no, sweetheart, no. You'll both come to live with me.”

“No.” The word, expelled vehemently, came from Andrea.

Elisha turned to look at her, stunned by the force of Andrea's rejection. Was this part of the grief she was experiencing or was there something more behind it? She couldn't deal with this, Elisha thought. She wasn't equipped to become an instant parent.

“Don't you want to live with me?” she heard herself asking.

“Not in the city,” Andrea retorted heatedly. “All my friends are here.”

And “here” was where she intended to stay, if body language was any indication.

“Mine, too,” Beth piped up. The next moment, she began to cry all over again.

Overwhelmed, Elisha sank down on the sofa in a heap. It felt as if she were a balloon and someone had let all the air out of her. With what seemed like her last bit of energy, she covered her face with her hands, completely at a loss as to how to handle this. All of “this.”

“Oh, God.”

She hadn't thought about the girls needing to transfer schools, needing to transfer their lives in order to move to the city with her. Everything seemed to have so many repercussions, so many strings that ran out like plant runners. How had Henry managed to keep all the strings untangled?

More important, how was she going to manage keeping them separated?

She didn't think she could.

This isn't fair, Henry. They need you. I can't do this.

Both girls stared at her, waiting for some kind of answer. She could feel Andrea's hostility. Andrea was
never
hostile toward her.

She did the only thing she could at a time like this. She stalled.

“Okay,” Elisha announced. “It's too soon to talk about moving or not moving. Right now, we need to get through this funeral, then we'll talk about the rest of it.”

Anne Nguyen had purposely let Elisha have some time with the girls when she walked in. She'd made herself useful by tidying up the kitchen, where Henry had collapsed, knocking over some things on the counter. She peered into the living room now, sympathy emanating from every pore.

“I can have the girls stay at my place tonight if you need a little time to yourself.”

Yes, I'd like that. I'd like that very much, thank you.
It would have been the easiest way to go, so that she could have some time to grieve once she got the phone calls over with. Phone calls to people she didn't know to come pay their respects to a brother who no longer had any need for things like that.

But the living did, she thought.

She looked at the girls. Beth had her arms around her as far as they would extend, her small body drooping into hers. She squeezed even harder when Anne made her offer. Elisha slipped her arm around Beth. Andrea moved farther away from her. In the blink of an eye, life had become impossibly difficult.

“No, that's all right, Anne. I think the girls want to sleep in their own beds tonight.” In response, Beth nodded her head vehemently, still not loosening her hold. “But if you don't mind, you can help me spread the word around here.”

“Of course.” Anne sat down beside her for a moment. “Where will the funeral services be held?”

Her mind went blank. She'd just come from there, she upbraided herself. How could she have forgotten? She reached into her pocket to take out the pastor's card.

Andrea beat her to it. “St. Theresa's. My dad insisted we go every Sunday. A lot of good that did him, huh?”

When they became adults, Elisha thought, Henry was always the more religious one. He seemed to be able to find serenity by attending the weekly services. A serenity that had eluded her.

“Actually, I think it probably did.” Elisha forced herself to return Anne's smile. “It'll be there.” As if a cloud lifted from her brain, she remembered the address and recited it. “The service will be on Saturday at ten. Until then, he'll be at Amos Brothers Funeral Parlor.”

Getting up, Anne nodded. “I'll let people know.” Taking her hand, Anne squeezed it. “And you let me know if you need anything. I'm just next door.”

“You've been very kind,” Elisha told her.

“It's the least I can do. Henry was a great guy.”

“Yes,” Elisha whispered. “I know.”

The front door closed as Anne let herself out after saying goodbye to the girls.

Busy, she had to get busy, Elisha thought. She couldn't just sit here, letting the depression sink into her soul any further than it already had.

“Andrea, if you could turn on the computer for me, I'll get started.”

Andrea looked as if she was going to say something cryptic, then nodded. “Sure.”

Elisha rose to her feet with Beth still holding on to her like a baby possum holding on to its mother for dear life. Elisha put her arm around the child, drawing her closer.

“It's going to be all right, baby.” Elisha wasn't entirely sure if she said the words to comfort herself or the girls, but neither of them answered.

 

Her ear hurt. For the last hour she'd been holding the receiver to it, saying the same awful words over and over again, letting people know that Henry had died. She'd fielded the questions as best she could, congratulating herself each time for not breaking down the way she sorely wanted to.

But now she was finally finished with the calls, finally finished holding herself together. She glanced over to the battered old sofa that had once been in her parents' living room and that Henry had claimed for his den, citing sentimental value. The leather was cracked in at least half a dozen places, but Henry wouldn't hear talk about getting rid of it.

She could remember sitting there with him when they were children. Right now, Beth was curled up on it and Andrea was beside her. Both had fallen asleep. She was torn between just leaving them there or herding them off to their beds. She didn't want to wake them, but their necks were going to ache tomorrow.

It would match their hearts.

Her cell phone began to ring. Startled, she pulled the phone from her pocket and looked at the incoming number. It wasn't one that she recognized. Getting up, she went outside the den to keep from waking the girls.

She flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“I knew you'd lose your nerve at the last minute.”

She recognized the voice instantly.

“I
knew you'd lose your nerve at the last minute,” Ryan repeated when she failed to respond. “But I thought you'd at least have the decency to call and make up some lame excuse why you couldn't cancel. Something like the dog swallowed your car keys, or there was a power failure in the building where you live and you were afraid to climb down twenty-two flights of stairs in the dark without a flashlight, which you couldn't find because it was too dark.”

She heard the words, but it was difficult for her to process them. Beyond exhaustion, her brain was completely disoriented. Every thought she possessed seemed to be existing on its own island, just out of range of any other thought.

Unable to give him an answer immediately as to why she'd never showed up at his apartment, Elisha focused on the last thing Sutherland said. The word
how?
rose up in her head.

“How do you know I live on the twenty-second floor?”

She heard him make an annoyed sound on the other end of the line. “I make it my business to know things and don't change the subject.”

She was far beyond being bullied, or trying to make nice for the sake of the firm or because some egotistical writer needed to have his self-esteem stroked.

A sentence fragment he'd uttered some time in the past replayed itself in her head. Making him a liar. “When I said we should get to know each other, you said you weren't interested.”

She heard a slight dry laugh, as if he was telling her that he knew where she was going with this even if she wasn't all too clear about the path herself. “In anything you might have wanted to volunteer. I have my own set of questions and I like finding things out on my own, not by hearsay or through secondhand information.”

What did that mean? Had he followed her? Or was he just trying to perpetuate some aura of mystery? She had no time for games or for men who hadn't grown up and still wanted to play spy.

“And you're not going to move me off the track,” Ryan said. “You forfeited the bet by not showing up. I'm sending over a fresh copy of my manuscript by messenger. Forward it to whoever does your printing. I know how damn confused they get if there's anything on the page to distract them.” And then he issued his warning. “You're not to put one mark on this copy. Nothing. It's my story and I tell it my way. If you don't like it, then our so-called association, such as it is, is terminated.”

Her head hurt. Elisha began to massage it. She made no response to his statement.

“Nothing to say?” he queried. “All right, then I'll just—”

“My brother died.” The words, festering in her chest all this time like a fast-growing tumor, just suddenly exploded from her lips. At the same time that the tears materialized. She angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to recover, be able to meet the challenges in front of her, immediate and down the road, large and small. She just wanted to run somewhere and hide.

“What did you say?”

The man was probably good at torture, she caught herself thinking. When she opened her mouth to answer, the hostility that suddenly materialized was hard to suppress. “My brother, Henry, he died. Today. I'm sorry if I didn't remember our bet, Mr. Sutherland.” Her voice rose and she struggled to contain the hysteria that rose with it. “But when the hospital called me, I forgot about everything else, including your illustrious poker game.” She paused for just a second to drag air into her lungs. “Now, if that wounds your pride, I'm sorry, but working for an inside straight so that I can jump through the hoop you're holding just in order to do my job didn't seem to be all that important at the time.”

He seemed not to hear her tirade, or notice the anger that had flowed his way. Instead, he asked, “Was it sudden?”

The question threw her. She had to stop to think, to try to pull together the threads that were unraveling so quickly.

“He had some warning, but all in all, yes, it was sudden. Henry never had a sick day in his life. At least none that he ever mentioned,” she qualified because Henry always kept his problems to himself. It was the one thing about Henry that drove her crazy. “We used to kid him that germs thought he was too nice to attack.”

Stopping suddenly, Elisha pressed her lips together. Her voice felt as if it was going to crack and the last thing in the world she wanted to do was break down in front of Sutherland. Even if it was over the telephone.

“He was too nice,” she finally concluded.

“Did he have a family?”

“His wife died five years ago. Henry has—had,” she corrected herself, hating the way the past tense tasted, “two daughters.”

“Young?”

“Fifteen and ten,” she recited automatically. Her patience frayed, she couldn't take it any longer. “Why are you asking me all these questions?” Elisha demanded angrily.

Ryan didn't answer her question. Instead, he asked another one of his own. “What's going to happen to your brother's daughters?”

Did he care? No, that wasn't possible. Then was he just pretending to be polite? No, that wasn't the Ryan Sutherland she was acquainted with. Besides, the tone behind his questions wasn't polite. He was shooting them out at her like rubber bullets. They weren't harmful, but they still stung.

“I'm going to take care of them,” she informed him tersely. Not that it's any business of yours, she added silently.

Only then did his voice soften ever so slightly and lose some of its accusatory tone. She had to admit that to her ear, he also sounded a little skeptical. He probably didn't think she could do it.

That made two of them.

“That's a big responsibility,” he said to her.

Oh God, yes.

But aloud, she kept her doubts to herself, kept her emotions so tightly wrapped that she sounded almost monotone as she answered. “I don't see as how I have much of a choice. I'm all they have.”

“There's another choice,” he told her. His voice was distant, as if the wires in their connection had just gotten frayed.

“Social services.”

Her first thought was of the woman in the tiny little office. Jennifer. The one who'd helped her at the hospital. But then she realized that he meant a different branch. The branch that concerned itself with children who had no one to care for them.

“Foster care?” she cried incredulously. How could he even think that? Just what kind of callow, selfish bastard was this man?

“Yes.” He said it as if it was a final verdict handed down by a judge. “Then the responsibility wouldn't be yours anymore.”

She felt a flash of temper. Who the hell did he think he was? He could play God with the characters who littered the pages of his book, but he had no business butting his nose into her life.

“But the heartbreak, not to mention the guilt, would be my responsibility,” she shot back. “Look, Mr. Sutherland, you don't seem to think much of me as an editor and you seem to think even less of me as a person.” She dragged her hand through her hair, trying desperately to bank down the growing helplessness she felt. “God knows I'm not going to be up for the award of Mother of the Year anytime soon, but these girls need me and I love them. And somehow, I'll find a way to do right by them.”
Even though I haven't a clue what I'm going to do next.

There was silence, and then he finally spoke. “Very impressive.”

Damn him, he was the spawn of the devil. “I wasn't trying to impress you.”

“I know.”

All right, she was willing to admit that she had to be hearing things. Because she could have sworn she heard a smile in the man's voice. The man didn't smile. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. She was overwrought, that's what it was. Thinking she heard a smile in his voice was just the result of her nerves being stretched to the very limit and then pulled five inches farther.

“You need anything?”

She scrubbed her hand over her face. Okay, now she
knew
she was hearing things. To prove it to herself, she asked him to repeat what she knew she couldn't have heard. “What did you say?”

“Do you need anything?” He enunciated every syllable slowly, as if she was mentally impaired.

And maybe she was, Elisha thought, struggling not to come unglued.

I need a million things. Someone to take over my life and make it run right. Or, better yet, someone to give me back my life the way it was two months ago.

“No, but thanks for the offer.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. So long that she thought he'd hung up and for some reason, the dial tone hadn't kicked in.

And then she heard him say, “We can reschedule the poker game if you'd like.”

He was rescinding his mandate about his manuscript, going back to square one of their so-called agreement. Elisha passed the back of her hand over her forehead, checking to see if she had a fever. When she could detect none, she wondered if she was asleep on the sofa. Had she dropped off beside the girls? Was this some dream she was having?

No, she thought, she ached too damn much for this to be a dream.

Blowing out an emotion-laden breath, she answered, “I'd like.”

“Good.”

She wasn't sure if the connection gave out at that moment, or if the man had hung up. Most likely the latter. Sutherland had clearly been raised by wolves, but one of those wolves must have had a heart and passed it on to him. She didn't have time to contemplate what made his train run. She had nieces to see to. Closing her cell phone, she slipped it back into her pocket. She glanced into the den.

Beth and Andrea were just where she'd left them. Asleep and leaning against each other.

As it should be in life, Elisha thought.

With a sigh that was way past weary, she went off in search of blankets. She was going to cover the girls and leave them where they were. They looked too peaceful to move and God knew they needed the rest.