Authors: Missy Fleming
Nona cupped her cheek. “Enjoy this. You sure as hell deserve it.” They walked up the steps. “Your firefighter is quite an eyeful. What about the other one?”
“He’s inside with Catherine already, I think.” She felt heat flood her face. “He’s not bad on the eyes either.”
Natalie waited in the hall outside Catherine’s room, an amused expression on her face.
“What?” Olivia asked her.
“Funny, after all this time she still calls me ‘that liberal friend’. She’s a hell of a woman.”
A burst of male laughter drifted from the room and the three of them leaned around the corner to see Duncan perched on one side of Catherine’s bed, gently holding her hand in his, and Simon standing on the other side, shaking his head in mirth at something Catherine had probably said. A flush rested in the older woman’s cheeks and she gazed at her two masculine visitors with an impish grin. There they were. The men who held Olivia’s heart. What a cliché she’d become. She needed to do something. Soon.
A
fter dropping Nona off at the airport the next morning. following a full day of sightseeing and a late dinner, Olivia walked into her grandmother’s house on the way to work, rubbing the casino chip-sized token in the pocket of her capris. The world stopped as she glanced up and found a handful of doctors gathered in the hallway outside Catherine’s room. Her heart plummeted to her feet and her palms grew damp, the room spun, forcing her to reach out and grasp the post at the bottom of the staircase. Anna was the first to notice her and approached with red-rimmed eyes.
“Is she?” Olivia asked in a whisper.
Anna shook her head promptly. “No, no, not yet. I’m sorry, sweetie, but the doctors say it’s time. She won’t last much longer. I was just getting ready to call you.”
Her mouth worked, trying to form a question. The nurse guessed and answered, “Hours.”
Everything inside Olivia went still, painfully aware of the mocking beat of her own heart. She thought she’d be ready for this. Yesterday had been perfect and there were still things she needed to know about her parents.
“Can I see her?”
“Of course. They made sure she’ll be comfortable when it happens.”
Olivia drifted past the three men, not paying attention to their sympathetic stares and murmurs of consolation. Pausing next to Catherine’s door, she took a few seconds to gather herself. She refused to spend their last minutes together as a sniveling mess.
“Grandmother?” she called, entering the room. Most of the machines had been moved to the corners, a sign of the inevitable end. Shuddering, Olivia crept closer and stared down at the wisp of a woman. It amazed her how fast she’d deteriorated, practically overnight. Her hair was so brittle it appeared translucent, revealing patches of her scalp. Her skin, bruised and sallow, gave the impression it’d break upon being touched. Bones were visible through her flesh, pointed and painful looking.
Olivia cringed as her grandmother hacked, a nasty sound that seemed too energetic given her current state. Her mind betrayed her, consumed with thoughts of Catherine’s coffin and her parents’. Catherine’s would be full. Were theirs?
“Can I ask you a question?” she blurted, unable to hold the inquiry in.
“Anything.”
Her chest tightened in anxiety. Should she do this? Did it really matter? Her parents were dead. Couldn’t she just leave it be? The words left her mouth before she swallowed them.
“Did they recover any of Mom and Dad’s remains?”
A short moan escaped Catherine’s brittle lips. “Oh, Olivia, why?”
“There are over eleven hundred bodies that have never been recovered. That’s eleven hundred empty coffins. I can’t stop wondering. I wasn’t here for the funeral and I feel as if, in some crazy way, this is the closure I need. I never got to mourn. Are theirs empty?”
“No.”
“They found a body? Or, or part of one?”
“No. Asked friends to put in mementos.” She breathed heavily, struggling with the words and Olivia felt guilty for putting her through this. “Your christening gown. Graduation cap. Anderson’s booties.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” Olivia pawed at her overflowing eyes.
“Had to make decision. Seemed good.” It appeared she lost consciousness for a minute and Olivia sobbed silently. Please, not yet. Then Catherine opened her eyes. “Doctor called. Asking for hair, things to test. I said no. Wanted to be done with it.”
“I understand. I’m sorry I left you here to deal with those decisions on your own. You and Dad were the only family Mom had left, besides me. Oh, Grandmother, I was selfish.”
“Past. Leave it there. You ... amazing. Thank you. For yesterday.”
“I love you so much.”
“Love you.”
Catherine’s last words came out softly, but they were the sweetest thing Olivia had ever heard. She listened to the machines beside her slow and watched her grandmother’s chest stop moving. Olivia laid her head on the mattress and wept. Despair crashed over her in waves, a wicked undertow threatening to sweep her under and keep her there. She felt a hand on her back.
“Olivia, sweetie, can I call someone for you?”
A rough voice spoke up from the dark recesses of Olivia’s mind, a voice she thought she’d gotten rid of. It said yes, find a dealer. You don’t even need a syringe. Just snort it. Quicker that way.
No. She needed Duncan, but the thought of him didn’t calm her hunger. He’d find her heroin, though. If she begged. She’d beg and he would give in because he is still weak. She needed strength.
“Simon,” she said in a strangled voice. “In my purse. Call him.”
The words were jumbled within the force of her crying. Catherine was gone. Olivia was alone. She remained in her position, not paying attention to the voices around her. They asked to come in and take care of her. Of the body. But Olivia couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave her grandmother. Not again.
What had been the point of Olivia’s suffering? Come home and made peace for what? A measly month and a half? Forgiveness? What a joke. Olivia wanted to cry out, to tell Catherine she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to be the last one. Alone.
A familiar voice broke through the pain. She lifted her head off the bed, averting her gaze from the body lying there, and found Simon kneeling next to her. The look in his eyes killed her, plainly showing the depth of his feelings for her, and it overwhelmed her already fragile state.
Lurching to her feet, she muttered as she swayed, “I need to go.”
“Where?”
“Need to be alone.”
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from leaving through the front door. Instead, he pulled her farther down the hall and into the outdated kitchen. He tried looking her in the eye but she avoided him.
“I know what you want and you’re not getting it,” he told her gruffly.
Her pain morphed into rage in the blink of an eye. “Get your hands off me and let me go,” she growled.
“Snap out of it, Liv.” Simon gripped her upper arms and shook her. “She deserves better than this.”
“Don’t talk to me like you know me!”
“I do,” he reminded calmly. “And you told me once drugs only mask the pain. It’ll still be there after.”
“So. I. Won’t. Stop,” she growled. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
“No. Don’t you dare say things like that.”
She barely heard him through the haze. “It’s not worth it. None of it was. I lost them all anyway.” Blearily, she focused on him, switching gears. “Help me. Just take me out. All I need is to get through this. Then I’ll stop. I’ve done it before. I need you, Simon. I need you to help me find something, anything.”
“Olivia.”
“Please.” She whimpered. “Please!”
Simon’s gaze flared with anger. “Catherine is lying dead in the next room and all you can think about is getting high? Are you really going to piss on her memory like that?”
That hit home and she slumped against him. “I can’t take the pain.”
“Yes. You can.”
His faith shamed her and violent sobs clawed up her throat. “She’s gone.”
He pulled her into his arms, into safety, and she let go once more. She wept for Catherine, for her parents, for everything she’d missed. She cried until there was nothing left. As she returned from the edge, she noticed somehow they were sitting on the floor, Olivia in Simon’s lap. His hands stroked her hair, her arms, her back. She let it calm her until she felt strong enough to face him. Her throat and mouth were dry, her eyes felt like sandpaper and her cheeks were warm and flushed. How had she ended up in his lap?
“Thank you,” she whispered, hating that he’d seen her like that.
Pressing his lips to her forehead, he said, “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did, you were here. If I would have left—”
“You wouldn’t have done anything stupid. I believe in you.”
“The things I said—”
Again, he interrupted her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s embarrassing,” she grumbled.
“We all stumble, Liv, some harder than others, and I’ll be here to catch you. Always.”
She didn’t answer him, unable to bury her humiliation. The moment she watched Catherine die, all logic had fled. Everything she’d learned about dealing with grief and her emotions vanished. In the space of a second, maybe two, she was the pathetic woman she’d once been, the one who turned to drugs to solve her problems. It terrified her. A year of sobriety, a year of struggles, as if it’d been for nothing. Then there was the fact that in her lowest moment, it was Simon she had asked for, the one she needed, and the one who’d talked her from the ledge. It spoke volumes, a sliver of reality she would have to listen to once this was over.
“I hear your wheels turning.” Simon interrupted her pity party, but she still didn’t reply. “Don’t beat yourself up. You weren’t expecting this to happen when you came over here this morning, not after how great yesterday had been. It’s a shock. I don’t think you would have dishonored her by running out and scoring drugs before her body was even cold.”
His harsh words hit her hard “What do you know?”
“I know pain is an unstoppable force. It robs us of rationality and common sense, but you are stronger than you think and I’m going to tell you that until it sinks in.”
Olivia sighed. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Later, when she had a chance to think about, she’d probably admit he was right. Now, she knew only numbness.
“I don’t know what to do.”
He touched her chin, forcing her to meet his stare again. “You do what Catherine asked and put her to rest. Anna has already made some calls. Your grandmother left a list of instructions and I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
Unbidden, guilt trickled in. Duncan would want to be by her side too, and she pulled herself from Simon’s lap. One of the last things Catherine said to her was that she was amazing. Olivia didn’t want to ruin that impression. Reaching into her pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the chip nestled there. Feeling it hardened her resolve. Somewhere, her grandmother was watching and Olivia vowed not to disappoint her again.
D
uncan hated funerals, a reaction probably stemming from the days after 9/11 when he attended thirty-four in the span of eleven days. A hole churned in his gut, a fiery combination of bad memories and the realization he did not belong here. He tried, he really did, but keeping his gaze from the spectacle around him was impossible. The church had filled to the brim with a who’s who of the city’s hotshots, dressed in their finest and toting expensive handbags. To them, this was just another excuse to be seen. A deep throated giggle came from somewhere behind him and Duncan tensed. Bastards needed to show Olivia more respect. He stretched his neck in attempt to loosen the noose resting there thanks to a brand new, button-up shirt. Hell, he’d even bought a blazer, and a tie. Not that Olivia noticed, she’d been so distracted. At least he convinced himself it was distracted and not distant. Great, now he sounded like a woman.
He snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye, taking in her stiff back and the stubborn set of her jaw. Three days since Catherine had passed and other than a short hour, this was the first time he’d seen her. He wished to hell he knew what was going on in that beautiful head of hers, but regardless of his night shifts and her preparing for the funeral, he hadn’t been able to be there for her in a way he would have liked.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Olivia’s voice cut through his musings.
Shifting his attention to the church, Duncan nodded. He’d only been inside St. Patrick’s Cathedral once or twice before—a long time ago. Didn’t stop him from staring at the high stone arches now, mouth agape. Bright, summer sun burst through the stained glass windows, sending jeweled light across the floor. The soaring buttresses in the ceiling were a work of art, humbling him and causing him to shift under the watchful eyes of the Jesus statue in the corner.
“It is,” he confirmed. “And much better to gawk at than what’s going on around us.”
“Kind of a circus, huh?”
“Little bit.”
Linking his fingers with hers, Olivia said, “I’ve missed you.”
Booming organ music cut off his reply, signaling the beginning of the service, and its resonating vibrations triggered a sharp ache behind Duncan’s eyes. Cotton filled his mouth and hunger consumed him. Stifling a groan, and praying his stomach behaved, Duncan cursed his withdrawal. Wrong time to act up, and yet this was exactly the sort of event he used to need pills to survive. Instead, he tried to draw strength from Olivia’s touch and not selfishly remember how the high would cover him slowly from head to toe like a warm blanket, teasing away his anxiety and ineptitude with a lover’s touch.
Members of VDB’s board carried Catherine’s ivory and gold casket down the aisle and as it passed their row, Olivia’s grip on his hand tightened. Once they placed Catherine on the ornate altar, surrounded by dozens of red roses, Simon took his place on the other side of Olivia and the bishop opened with prayers and a hymn. Soon after, Simon returned to the podium, looking as put together as ever, except for the dark circles under his eyes.
“I met Catherine Van den Berg six years ago after languishing in Finance for what felt like an eternity. All she was to me up until that point was a legend. I heard the stories. How she and her husband took VDB to the next level, increasing our global presence and profits exponentially. How she dominated a role mostly occupied by men in the early stages of her career. The way she kept her company a viable contender in the face of great personal tragedy.”
Simon flashed a confident smile. “I’d just landed a huge account, a mammoth deal that put me directly in the crosshairs of our CEO. I remember sitting there in my tiny, tiny cubicle, feeling pretty smug, when she sauntered up to me, every bit as intimidating as I’d been told. She took one look around my measly space and said, ‘What on earth are you doing down here? Get your stuff and follow me.’ Needless to say I was terrified, but the next day I found myself tucked into an actual office, with a window, and given a shot at a job I only dreamed about.”
As Simon grew sober, Duncan checked on Olivia, frowning at the soft expression on her face. He smothered the grimace a moment later, choosing to ignore the attraction he saw there.
“Catherine saw something in me, beyond the punk I was, and probably still am. She was my mentor, my inspiration, and a friend. I hope I can live up to a tenth of her strength and success.”
Duncan swallowed a snort. Captain America even did eulogies right, not that he faulted him for it. Simon, despite being a golden boy, was hard not to like, or envy. Simon made his way back to his seat and Olivia rose to greet him, wrapping him in an embrace and whispering something into his ear that earned a grin. She stepped back and laid her hand on Duncan’s shoulder before making her way to the front of the church. Olivia took a deep breath and he hated how exhausted she looked, her black dress emphasizing the dark shadows in her expression.
“Growing up, I idolized my grandmother. She was larger than life and classy in a way that made me envious as a young, awkward girl. When I ran away after September 11th, I thought I’d severed all ties with the only family I had left, but Catherine never gave up on me. She monitored me from afar, confident I’d return home one day, and even made sure I’d be provided for. In a way, I view her cancer as a blessing. It brought us together, giving us the opportunity to forgive and forget, to get to know each other as the women we are now. I’ll treasure our time together forever.”
The rest of the service passed in a blur as Duncan shifted from keeping his nausea under control and lending his silent support to Olivia. More attendees spoke, businessmen joking about things Duncan knew nothing about, women with pearls commenting on Catherine’s philanthropic side. He’d have never guessed one woman could do all the things Olivia’s grandmother had. It was damn impressive.
Later, at the graveside ceremony, Duncan lingered to the side with Alex and Natalie, watching Olivia deal with the endless line of people offering their condolences. He wondered if he should go over, either to rescue or support her, but she didn’t need questions about him today. At least that was the excuse he gave himself. In truth, those well-dressed mourners intimidated him. What could he even have say to them?
“Can’t believe I saw you in a tie,” Alex quipped.
“Shut it.” Duncan had already tucked the offending thing in his jacket pocket.
“Don’t worry. I snapped a couple pics for blackmail.”
Simon joined Olivia and she flashed him a grateful smile, causing Duncan to growl softly. He should have gone over and braved the scrutiny. Unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, Duncan’s stomach filled with ice. Damn they looked good together. Natural. Both were well-dressed, full of polite manners and able to maintain a string of idle chitchat with each new person they encountered. A woman with a stretched face and fancy, monogrammed handbag clasped Olivia’s hand, her own paw weighed down with gold rings and glinting jewels. The man with her had orange skin, hinting at either a fake tan or some new beauty fad Duncan hadn’t heard of, and Olivia handled them all, treating them as if they were life-long friends.
How in the hell was he going to fit into her world? He didn’t know anything about stocks or the Bahamas or the newest model of yacht. He wasn’t like Simon, joking and exchanging manly handshakes. Standing not twenty feet from Olivia, Duncan had never felt farther away from her.
A dark cloud settled over his head and he desperately wished for a bottle of whiskey. Good, Irish whiskey, warm and delicious as it slid down his throat. He licked his lips, swaying. Christ, he could literally
taste
it.
“Uh oh.”
The dire tone of Alex’s words cut through the blurriness surrounding Duncan. He blinked rapidly and wiped at his mouth, certain it was because he’d been caught drooling.
“Why can’t they leave her alone?” Natalie asked. “Today of all days.”
Following their line of sight, and trying like hell to snap out of his thirst, Duncan saw a trio of reporters and cameramen crowding Olivia. Their barking tone reached him, even if their words didn’t, and they fired their questions one right after the other.
“The damn
Post
again,” Nat muttered.
Panic had wiped the color from Olivia’s features and she ducked away from a pushy older woman with a small recording device, only to come face to face with a giant camera. She put her hand up to shield her face and everyone around her just stood there and watched. Damn them.
Just as Duncan was about to rush over and do something with his tightly balled fists, Simon stepped in, calmly directing the attention away from Olivia and onto him. Within seconds, his rolling laughter drifted over, allowing Olivia to slink off in the other direction.
Duncan watched her go. He should follow her, offer support and comfort, guide her to the car and drive her home, but he couldn’t. His feet were rooted in place, his throat lined with sandpaper and failure. He was no good for her and, in a lot of ways, her world was no good for him. The sooner they both admitted it, the better.