The Perfect Family (24 page)

“Has something happened to Darcy?”

“It’s Kenny.” Darcy’s second oldest. “H-he was killed in Afghanistan.”

“Oh, good Lord, no, John.”

Kenny was a happy-go-lucky boy with a sunny smile who adored his mother. In many ways, he reminded Maggie of Brian.

“I know this is a shock.”

“I’m so sorry. How did it happen?”

“He was out on a recon mission with more experienced infantry. They got caught in a firefight. You don’t want to know the details—they’re obscene.”

“Darcy must be inconsolable.”

“She is. I thought you’d like to know what’s happened. In the confusion, we missed calling some people right away. They shipped his remains”—he choked on the word—“home and we buried him quietly when the coffin arrived. Just family. But we’re having a memorial service at the end of this week.” She heard a muffled sob on the other end. Darcy’s brother was a construction worker, big, burly, bulky. She remembered him as always laughing.

“What can I do?”

“We wanted you to know the arrangements. The service is Saturday morning. I think Darcy would appreciate it if you and your mother were there.”

“Of course I’ll be there. Can I help out in some way? Bring food?”

“We’ve got plenty to eat. Her church has seen to all that. I don’t know what we would have done without them.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a luncheon in the fellowship hall after the service.”

“We’ll see you Saturday, then.”

After she hung up, Maggie just sat there, thinking about Darcy and Kenny, immobilized by the nature of
real
tragedy. When she could move again, she slid off the bed and opened the cedar chest where they stored their photo albums. She drew out the one marked
Brian’s Toddler Days
, dropped down onto the floor, and leafed through pages until she found what she was looking for.

Darcy had come to Sherwood to visit when the boys were just shy of a year. On one glossy page was a picture of her with Kenny, and Maggie with Brian. They were bouncing the babies on their knees while someone took a picture. She studied Darcy’s kind, trusting face and the innocent visage of the child on her lap. A drop of moisture hit the plastic and she blotted it with her thumb before she realized what it was. Staring down, she cried hard for Darcy’s loss.

A rap on the door. “Mom?”

She didn’t answer.

“Mom? Are you all right?”

“I—” She couldn’t talk.

“Mom?” Jamie had come into the room. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?” He glanced at the photo album. “Isn’t that your high school friend Darcy?”

Maggie nodded.

“Did something happen to her?” Through tears and strangled sobs, she told Jamie about Kenny.

“Oh, Mom.” Sinking onto the carpet, he dragged her into an embrace and she cried on his shoulder. She hugged her living, breathing son and begged God to keep him safe.

A door slammed downstairs. Someone walked around. All the while, she and Jamie stayed on the floor holding each other.

Mike and Brian found them there.

Her husband crossed the room. “Maggie? Jame?”

Finally disentangling, Maggie and Jamie stood.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mike asked. “What happened?”

Brian was in the background, leaning against the doorjamb, his hands stuck in his pockets. They were all alive and safe. “Kenny Larson. Darcy’s son?”

Mike grasped onto her. “What about him?”

“Oh, guys, Kenny was killed in Afghanistan.”

“Maggie, no.”

Brian said, “Kenny? Mom, Kenny?”

Struggling with her own reaction, Maggie crossed to Brian. Tears clouded his eyes as she stood on tiptoe to hug him. In her peripheral vision, she saw Mike slide his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and Jamie lean into him.

“Yes, Bri. I’m so sorry. I know you kept in touch with him.”

They went downstairs, sat in the warmth of the April day’s end on the porch and made plans. They’d go to Cornwall on Saturday. Brian would miss a baseball game but that couldn’t be helped. They’d drive down in the morning, pick up her mother, attend Kenny’s service and the church luncheon. They’d stay overnight at her mother’s house if they were too tired to head back.

Dinner was noneventful and they all pitched in to clean up. Then they found themselves in the family room watching
Jeopardy
, an excuse to be with each other.

That night, Mike and she lay in bed holding hands, staring at the ceiling fan as it whirred in the still air.

“We have to do better,” Mike said into the darkness.

“I know.”

“We have to help the boys do better with each other.”

“I know. Seeing Zack tomorrow will be hard for them.”

Zack was Jamie’s age, Darcy’s other son. Darcy’s
only
son now.

As she dozed off, she thought of one of her mother’s stern admonishments.
Stop your crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.
Maggie had always hated that adage. Still, it played through her mind as she drifted off.

*

The atmosphere in the car was somber as Mike drove to a memorial service for a dead child—the worst thing that could possibly happen to a parent. Last night, he’d meant it when he said that he and Maggie had to do better with what had been disrupting their own world. In comparison to the Millers, his family’s problems seemed manageable now.

Still, there was so much he had to contend with.

Mike hadn’t told anyone about his meeting with Lucas Crane at the country club…

The distinguished doctor pounded his fist on the table. “This is totally unacceptable. We need to take the bull by the horns.”

Mike had been curious about the man’s views. “Lucas, you’re a pediatrician. The AMA takes the position that homosexuality is determined at birth. Do you disagree with them on that?”

“That and other tenets they hold. I believe abortion is immoral because the cells are human life at conception.”

Mike flinched to find he had so much in common with Crane.

They’d gone on to discuss reparative therapy camps at length.

“I’m in total agreement with the premise for these places, Davidson. Homosexuality is not an orientation, but a set of behaviors that lies at the root of the dysfunction. Therefore, it makes sense that homosexual desires can be reprogrammed.”

Last week, Mike had researched the camps’ methods. Primarily, the staff minimized contact with what they claimed encouraged homosexual behavior: no secular music, no more than fifteen minutes per day behind a closed bathroom door, and no contact with any practicing homosexuals.

“I’m not sure about their tactics, Lucas.”

Mike thought of the frank talks he’d had with his boys about healthy sexual practices. He imagined Jamie unable to listen to the music he loved. Could God want this kind of punitive indoctrination for his son?

Lucas Crane did. He’d been unyielding, immovable, and Mike cringed thinking of what poor Luke must be going through. He knew in his heart this man would never change.

“Mike?” Maggie said, breaking into his reflection. “I asked if you wanted to stop for coffee.”

“No. Your mother’s expecting us at nine.”

His wife’s sigh was meaningful.

“She’ll be fine. Darcy’s situation is sure to take precedence over her own self-absorption.”

“I’m not so sure. Truthfully, I’m surprised she agreed to go with us.” Another sigh. “And we still have to deal with her about Caroline coming back.” There was no mention, of course, about telling Gertrude that Jamie was gay. Mike couldn’t fathom what his mother-in-law would do with that information.

“Caroline still hasn’t talked about telling your mother she’s back in your life?”

“Not much. I brought it up after she met with Sara and she said she wasn’t ready yet.”

“I think the only one in the family equipped to deal with your mother is Jimmy.”

“No one’s called him, either.” She shook her head. “I hate this.”

“I know, honey.”

They reached Cornwall an hour before the service. Maggie always had a visceral reaction to driving up the hill to Second Street and catching the first sight of the big gray house where she’d lived. Mike noticed she placed her hand on her stomach as they pulled up to the curb. He covered that hand with his own. “It’ll be okay.”

Solemnly the four of them exited the car and climbed the steps to the porch. Maggie opened the front door and they went inside. “Ma, we’re here.”

Following her, Mike was assaulted by the putrid smell. Years of cigarette smoke settled over the house like a toxic blanket.

“She’s probably upstairs.” They heard mumbling, then Gertrude Lorenzo emerged from the enclosed staircase. She was wearing a blue cotton house dress and had a cigarette in her hand.

“Hi, Ma.”

The guys greeted her. No hugs in this family. Mike had been lucky that God had given him to Lucy and BJ Davidson instead of the deal He struck for Maggie.

Then he noticed that Gertrude’s face was beet red. She glared at Maggie, practically spat out, “I need to sit,” and headed toward the bay window of the old house, where she eased down into her stuffed chair. For as long as Mike had known her, that had been his mother-in-law’s throne.

The boys took the couch and Maggie a chair. Mike leaned against an archway to the television room.

“Ma, why aren’t you ready for Kenny’s service?” Maggie asked.

“I’m not going.”

“What?” His wife’s face was confused. “Why?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“Because you said you’d go.”

Lifting her chin, Gertrude sniffed. “That was before.”

“Before what?”

God, this was familiar. Things always had to be pried out of this woman. She withheld like a pro, and Mike couldn’t imagine Maggie as a young child trying to deal with this kind of manipulation.

“You know, Mary Margaret.” She butted out a cigarette and immediately lit another.

Mike exchanged a concerned look with Maggie, and from the corner of his eye saw the boys fidget.

“I
don’t
know, Ma.”

The chill in Gertrude’s eyes even affected Mike. “I talked to Sara just before you got here.”

Silent, Maggie waited. She didn’t seem to understand the innuendo. But Mike did and tried to head off the explosion. “What did Sara say, Gertrude?”

“I can’t talk about it.” She placed her palm over her heart. “It’s not good for me, Father Bingham said.”

It was the mention of the priest that did it. His wife shrank back and paled. But it was the fear on her face that cut Mike to the quick. She managed to get out, “S-Sara told you Caroline was back?”

Gertrude slammed a hand on the wooden arm of the chair, making Maggie jump. “Don’t say that name in this house.”

“Grandma.” Jamie spoke up before Mike could shield him. “All that was a long time ago.”

“Shut your mouth, young man.”

Straightening, Mike took a step toward his mother-in-law. “Don’t speak to my son that way, Gertrude.”

She rounded on Mike, but he wasn’t her child and had no fear of her. He faced her squarely.

“You’re a good Catholic man. How can you accept this?”

“I think God would understand. And forgive. Jesus certainly didn’t hold grudges. I also believe the modern Catholic Church would want you to forgive Caroline.”

“God’s word is clear. I thought you understood that.”

“Ma,” Maggie pleaded. “We have to deal with her return.”

“I don’t.”

Maggie sank back in her chair and stared mutely at her mother. Now the boys were watching Gertrude like she was from Mars.

Finally, Mike said, “We have to get to the service. Gertrude, there’s still time for you to dress.”

“I have a headache. Because of you.” She pointed to her daughter. “You always did this to me.”

“Oh, Ma, it would help Darcy if you came with us. She specifically asked for you. Can’t you put your feelings aside for the time being?”

“I’m sick. Nobody cares about that. Nobody cares what this is doing to me.”

There was dead silence, absolute stillness in the room.

Then Mike saw his wife stand, cross to her mother, and kneel down next to her. “I care, Ma.” Maggie leaned over, but Gertrude turned her cheek away from Maggie’s kiss. After a long moment, his wife straightened, touched her mother’s arm, and walked to the door. “Let’s go, guys.”

Jamie and Brian flanked Maggie and linked their arms with hers. Mike followed behind.

*

Brian watched his mom as they drove into the church parking lot. He knew her childhood had sucked, and he hated seeing how hard she still had it with Grandma Lorenzo. But today had been the worst ever. It made him feel ashamed about his own behavior and how it was hurting her, too.

The church loomed ahead of them and his heart started to pound like it did when he ran the bases. He dreaded going inside. He remembered sneaking out of the house with Kenny at night when the Larsons came to visit and going skinny-dipping in a neighbor’s pool. He remembered Kenny in front of the TV when they watched R-rated movies while their parents went out to dinner. Now Kenny was dead. Brian couldn’t take it in.