Tags:
Fiction,
Literary,
General,
Family & Relationships,
Psychological fiction,
Family Life,
People with mental disabilities,
Patients,
Mothers and Sons,
Arson,
Fetal Alcohol Syndrome
his head“—I realized I’d been
wrong about him. He really proved himself. All he needed was
the fire.”
And right then I knew it wasn’t fog messing up my brain.
It was smoke.
Chapter Nine
Marcus
EXCELLENT DAY FOR THE WATER, AND the boaters knew it.
From the front steps of Laurel’s house, I stopped to look at
Stump Sound. Sailboats, kayaks, pontoon boats. I was jealous.
I had a kayak and a small motorboat. I used the kayak for
exercise and fished from the runabout. Or on those rare occasions I had a date, I’d take the boat for a sunset spin on the
Intracoastal. I had this fantasy of taking Andy out with me
someday. Never happen, I told myself. Give it up.
I rang Laurel’s doorbell.
Nearly every Sunday that I wasn’t scheduled to work, I did
something with Andy. Ball game. Skating rink. Fishing from
the pier. Maggie used to come, too, but by the time she reached
Andy’s age, she had better things to do. I got it. I was fifteen
before the storm
101
once myself. I liked the time alone with Andy, anyway. He
needed a man in his life. Father figure.
My beautiful niece opened the door and gave me a kiss on
the cheek. I’d dated a woman a while back who turned out to
be too artsy-fartsy for my taste, but I did learn a few things
from her. We were standing in the National Gallery in Washington one time, in a room full of paintings of women. Most
of the women had thick wavy hair and big, heavy-lidded eyes.
They looked like they were made of air.You could lift any one
of them up with a finger.
“These paintings remind me of my niece,” I told my date.
“Really?” she asked. “She has a Pre-Raphaelite look to her?”
Whatever, I thought.
“I’d like to meet her,” my date said.
We broke up before she could meet Maggie, but since then,
whenever I saw my niece, the term Pre-Raphaelite popped into
my mind even though I didn’t know what it meant. I would
have given my right arm— both my arms—for Jamie to have
the chance to see the long-haired, heavy-lidded beauty his
daughter had become.
“What are you up to today, Mags?” I asked.
“Studying at Amber’s,”she said.“I have some exams this week.”
I sat down on the stairs that led to the second story. “You
can see that ol’ light at the end of the tunnel now, huh?”
She nodded.“You better have my graduation on your calendar.”
“Can’t imagine you gone next year,” I said.
“I’ll only be in Wilmington.”
“It’s more than geography, kiddo,” I said.
She looked up the stairs, then lowered her voice. “How’s
Mom gonna manage Andy without me?” she asked.
102
diane chamberlain
“Hey,” I said, “I’m not going anywhere. All your mom has
to do is say the word and I’m here.”
“I know.”
“You decide on a major yet?”
She shook her head. “Still between psych and business.”
I couldn’t see a Pre-Raphaelite woman in one of those stiff,
pin-striped business suits. Her choice, though. I’d keep my trap
shut.
“You’ve got plenty of time to decide,” I said.
Maggie swung her backpack over her shoulder. “Do they
know what caused the fire yet?” she asked.
I shrugged. “We’re still waiting on results from the lab.”
“You’re in charge, aren’t you?” she asked.
“On the local side, yeah. But once there are fatals…” I shook
my head. “The State Bureau of Investigation and ATF are
involved now.”
“Oh, right. That guy who talked to Andy at the hospital.”
“Right.” I got to my feet. “Your brother upstairs?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Wait till you see his room. It looks like
a Hallmark store. Oh, and Mom said don’t mention anything
about him writing a book. She hopes he’ll forget about it.”
“He’s still talking about that?”
“Every once in a while.” She clipped her iPod to her low-
rise jeans.
“Your mom home?”
“Went for a run.” She popped in the earbuds. “Later,” she
said, pulling open the
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