They got the radio to work, couldn't find a station Maureen liked, and finally settled
on one of Leo's old Van Morrison tapes. The phone comes back eventually, but by then
Maureen's so close to the end Don's pretty sure they won't make it. He calls for the
ambulance anyway, gets them, warns them about the bridge.
"You gonna be okay?"
"We think so."
The dispatcher sounds worried. "Just hold on, we'll get out there as soon as we can."
"Thanks," Don says, and signs off. Maureen groans again from the living room.
When Don walks back in, Van Morrison's singing "Moondance," and Maureen's trying to
talk Mike into supporting her in a half-stand, half-squat that looks supremely
uncomfortable for everyone involved.
"You're sure--"
"This is right," she tells him. "I don't know why, but it's right. Trust me. Where the hell
is that brother of yours, anyway?"
"I'm right here," he says. "I got the ambulance, but it'll take a while with the bridge out.
You doing okay?"
"Yeah," she says, her eyes focusing on something beyond the walls. "I'm okay." Another
contraction hits then, and she closes her eyes and groans.
"Guess that's my cue," Don says, walking over, kneeling down, they've got the sheets
down so they won't destroy the floor or the couch, the sterilized pot holding the sterilized
knife, some cotton balls they found in the bathroom, the alcohol--
"C'mon," Don says, "time to push."
And he turns off whatever in his head keeps saying something's gonna go wrong
something's gonna go wrong and he turns off everything he can but the parts that can
follow instructions, the parts that think, the rational parts and the watcher, and he lets
them take over. And he loses track of time and place and situation and all he knows is
one way or another Maureen is gonna have this baby.
"C'mon, I can-- I can see a head, come on, push, push--"
And it's only after he's cut the cord and handed her back to Maureen that he realizes--
really-- what's just happened.
"You were right, Mike, it's a girl," he gasps, and he's crying and Maureen's crying and
Mike-- Mike's beyond crying.
"She's so beautiful," Mike whispers, and somehow they all hear it over the baby. "She's
an angel, just an angel..." They've collapsed together onto the couch, Mike holding
Maureen holding the baby.
She puts the baby to her breast and the infant quiets down.
And they all just sit there for a minute or two, letting it hit them, Mike coming to life a
little first, stroking Maureen's hair, touching the baby's tiny fingers. Don gets up after a
while and washes his hands, starts putting things away, turns the tape over.
"Mike," she says, "do you think-- I mean, I don't know how to put this, but--"
And they hear the ambulance in the driveway.
"We gotta move," Don says, though he knows it's the last thing any of them want to
do.
Good thing they'd decided to turn the heat on in the barn, but he doesn't dare put it up
any further. The cops are right outside and he'd rather not draw their attention. He lights
the cigarette, inhales.
First time he's really slept since October, huddled up here in the cold next to Mike. He
hates to smoke next to him, but he doesn't want to spoil the little heat they've got and the
craving was what woke him up in the first place.
He blows the smoke out and realizes he's happy, a sweet benevolent happiness he hasn't
felt very often in his life and that he might never feel again. The smoke curls out of the
cigarette and begins to stretch toward the ceiling.
If he died tonight he could die happy.
Inhale, exhale. Tap the ash off on the can lid he's using as an ashtray.
Mike stirs in his sleep, and Don puts his hand on his shoulder to calm him, stubs the half-
smoked cigarette out.
"Don?"
"Shh. Go back to sleep."
"You're not leaving?"
"No," Don says, lying back down, putting his arm around his brother. "No."
"Promise?"
Don looks at him, at those woozy eyes. "I promise, Mike."
Mike throws his arms around him, squeezes so tight Don has trouble catching his breath.
"Hey," he croaks, and Mike eases off.
"Not gonna lose you," Mike mutters in his sleep. "Not again."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"April," Casey says, worried, his hand on my shoulder, "come on, you gotta get up--
"
"What?" It's late, I can tell by the light. "What time?"
"It's ten, you should've--"
And I wake up. "No, no, I called Josie. She's gonna hold the fort down. I'm just gonna
take tough calls. If we get any."
He frowns, confused. Damn pity he's so easy to confuse. "You feeling okay?"
"Yeah." I sit up and put my arms around him, feel the warmth of his skin. "I figured
we'd have a day to ourselves for a change. Just the four of us." I pull him a little closer.
"Maybe the two of us for a while?"
"Mmm," he says, and kisses me, "I should let you beat the crap outa me more often." He
pulls me down on his chest, and just like clockwork the phone rings and Raven starts
screaming.
I reach over and lift up the receiver; Casey starts getting out of bed.
"'Lo?"
"April," an oddly familiar voice says, "why aren't you at work?"
"I took the day off for a change," I shoot back automatically.
He laughs.
Don.
"Get back down there and make us some money! Sheesh, I take off for-- what, three
months?-- and you're already slacking off...how the hell are you?"
"Fine. Great. Don..."
"Yeah?"
"Oh my God..."
"No," he says sternly. "No crying. That's an order. You hear from the cops yet?"
"The cops?"
"Which locker's which?" Casey asks, looking under the bed.
"How would I know?"
"Wait, this one's Don's, it's gotta be...holy sh..."
"Casey," I mutter. "Put the magazine back. Now."
For crying out loud, the girls are
just in the next room...
"How the hell would two people even do that?"
I grab the magazine and knock him over the head with it, duck under the bed and find the
money.
"So we gotta find the biggest stuffed bear fifty bucks will buy?"
"Those are the orders," I tell him, counting out twenties. One, two, three, four,
five..."The bear must be Mike's idea. Don said to spend the rest of it on stuff she'd
need."
"Only fifty bucks' worth?"
"It's not like they've ever paid for kids' stuff before."
"True enough," Casey says, helping me back up.
"She was nice," I say on the way home.
Casey nods.
"Cool name, Angela Dawn."
Casey nods again.
"'C'mon, you gotta have some kind of an opinion."
"I'll tell you one thing," he says, "I'm pretty damn jealous of him."
"Mike?"
He nods.
I grab his hand. "Hey, we don't have it too bad. Not really."
He smiles a little and squeezes my hand. "I know." He looks up and frowns. "Hey, keep
both hands on the wheel."
"Maybe I want to live dangerously," I tease him.
He grins. "You can live dangerously whenever you want to. As long as you're not drivin'
this car."
I laugh at him and get both hands back on the wheel. He turns the radio up and we both
start singing. "Gonna take a lot to take me 'way from you; there's nothin' that a hundred
men or more could never do..." He puts his arm around my shoulder. "I passed the rains
down in Aaafrica...gonna take some time to do the things we never ha-a-a-a-aa-ad..."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
From: mike@turtle.net
To: smatthewson@____.edu
Date: February 10, 1994
Subject: Re: Hello out there...
Yeah! SEND IT. Sorry I've been incommunicado: won't happen again, I promise.
Thanks a lot.
--Mike
From the AP, February 13, 1994:-- Brutal Murder Shocks Selma
(Selma, AL)-- Albert Hurley, a well-known Selma appliance dealer, was found murdered
yesterday outside his suburban home. He had been repeatedly stabbed with a stiletto or a
similar weapon, in what looked like a blinding rage. At this time, the authorities have no
suspects.
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