-26-

Light from the hallway filters through the open door of the room. Paul is asleep. Since she saw him last, his pale face and the stillness of his turbulent self have stayed with her. So, too, the absence of the give-it-all-you-got husband who once sustained her. This visit will make her late for Maisie’s meeting, but so be it.

He’s no longer attached to lifesaving paraphernalia. The missing oxygen tank and IV drip frighten her because of what they portend.

Pulling a chair close to the bed, she lifts his cool hand to hold it in both of hers, though he doesn’t respond. Perhaps he’s too weak or doesn’t realize that she’s here. So she moves her face nearer to his and whispers words of love and forgiveness, words that come so readily they stun her.

Rushing through the cold, dark streets, she wishes she’d left Maisie’s earlier. She doesn’t like Sam being at home alone at night. At the meeting, the women urged her to attend the abortion-rights demonstration. She explained it was a weekday and she couldn’t take off from work. But didn’t say that demonstrations weren’t her thing. She tried to concentrate on the plans being discussed, but the visit to Paul had upended her. She didn’t mention the visit. No doubt the women would’ve been sympathetic and supportive, but the words she’d whispered to him of love and forgiveness would’ve baffled them.

As she reaches her front door, two men in overcoats appear from nowhere it seems. Their bodies stand too close to hers. She palms the front door keys.

“Celia.” A low, cajoling voice, a man offering candy. “We’re from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He holds up an ID that would be difficult to see in the dark even if she bothered to look.

“It’s cold out here,” he says. “May we come in?”

“What do you want?” Is she even supposed to ask?

“It’s about Miles. We have information. I’m sure you want to know about your son.”

She switches on the weak outdoor light. The man’s unlined thirtysomething face takes shape, so, too, the patent-leather blackness of his hair. Beside him, the other man remains in the dark.

Sam opens the door behind her. “Mom, who is it?”

“Go inside,” she orders.

“Sam, don’t you want to hear about your brother?” the man asks.

“Inside,” she hisses. Sam backs away, closes the door. The man is waiting for permission to enter. She’s been told what to do. “You can’t come in. It’s late,” she says with as much certainty as she can muster.

“We’ll be glad to speak with you in the morning.”

“No.” It’s Josie’s voice she’s channeling now, because in truth she’s curious to hear anything about Miles.

“We don’t wish to inconvenience you. However, we can’t talk out here.”

Josie warned her that they always try to get in the house. “Speak to my lawyer.”

“You’re making a mistake, Celia. May I call you that?” The cajoling voice is getting on her nerves. She turns, goes inside quickly, and then closes the door gently. She can hear her own hard breathing.

Sam stares out the living room window.

“Move away from there.”

“They’re leaving. The car’s been parked there for hours,” he tells her as if she’d invited them for dinner and forgotten to cook. “What do they want?”

“To learn what they can about Miles, I guess.”

“You guess? Didn’t you ask?” His tone accusatory.

“It’s a fishing expedition to help them catch Miles.”

“He’s a lot of trouble.”

“He’s your brother.”

“So? He’s still a problem.” His gaze fixed on her. “Who wants these guys at our door?”

“No one. Let’s go to bed, son.”

“How can you ignore their visit? Don’t you see the predicament Miles has put us in? He doesn’t care about us, only his precious beliefs. As far as I’m concerned, he can stuff them. I don’t want my life affected. He’s a criminal.”

“Sam, careful what you say.”

“Careful what I say . . . Exactly! Before long they’ll be knocking at Maria’s door, and you can bet how that’s going to go down with her parents.”

“No one’s going to call on your friend.”

“You don’t know that.” He glares at her, and she wishes him younger, pliable, more trusting, but he’s her baby no longer.

“Maria’s not a member of our family. There’s no reason for them to speak to her.”

“Do you realize what Miles has done? This will never end.”

“Sam,” she pleads, placing two fingers gently on his mouth.

He pushes her hand away. “Fine. I’m going to bed.”

She watches him lope down the long hallway. It went badly between them. Tomorrow, she’ll take him out to a diner for dinner; they’ll talk again. The brothers must stick together. If the situation were reversed, Miles would support him, of that she’s certain. She thinks about having a drink to try and relax, but the clock reads five past midnight.

The phone rings three times before she picks up the receiver to hear the unfamiliar, sorrowful voice. Paul is gone.