Broken - Broken Promises Part 11

I stared after the trail of dust his Pontiac left for a moment.

Irene stepped out onto the porch, drawing my attention. "Mallory, he's asking for you."

I nodded and turned back to the house. Luke put a hand on my arm.

"You don't have to do this alone," he said.

His brown eyes pleaded with me to be reasonable. I wasn't in the mood to accommodate him.

"I've always been alone, Luke. Always," I said, yanking my arm out of his light grasp. It was true, but I was only alone because I pushed everyone away. I walked down the hallway to his room and pushed open the door. I'd only been gone a few hours and he looked like he'd aged ten years. His skin was void of all color, his eyes nearly glazed over. Irene was back at his side.

"I just gave him some meds. They'll make him a bit loopy in a few minutes. Now might be the only time you have to say goodbye," she whispered to me as she left the room.

I looked at the bed, which suddenly seemed enormous in comparison to his frail body.

"You know, you were supposed to stick around all summer, Dad. What am I going to do with all my free time?" I said. I knew my smile was sad, but I couldn't help it.

"You've got to move on, Mal. You know that," he said with a raspy voice.

He sounded as if he'd been screaming, his voice was so hoa.r.s.e. I lumped formed in my throat.

"I don't want to move on," I said. "What about your promise?"

I grasped his hands between mine and it dawned on me how frail he was just in the shot time since he'd come home from the hospital. It was as if he'd used all his energy just so he could see me again. And now that he had, he was letting go.

"I promised you I would always be there for you, not that I would live forever. You've grown up into a beautiful woman," he said.

He fell into a fit of coughing and the sound cut up my heart into tiny little pieces. Tears formed in my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since I'd come home. This wasn't fair.

"I love you, Dad," I said.

He was going to stay medicated until the end, which meant he might not be coherent for the remainder of his life.

His delicate hand lifted and he cupped my face. He looked into my eyes as he spoke. "I love you, Mallory. Never forget that."

I nodded with a jerk and the tears fell from my eyes onto his hand. He smiled as he watched a single tear make its way down the pallid skin of his knuckle. It was a sad, death-welcoming smile.

"Where's Luke?"

I turned away, back toward the doorway. Luke popped his head in.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear," he said. I noticed his eyes were red and puffy and wondered if he'd been crying, too. "I'm right here, Joe."

"Mallory, I want a word with Luke. Alone, please," Dad said.

I wanted to argue, I needed to spend every moment with him I could until he was gone. But I knew he needed to speak with Luke, too. I knew Luke was like a son to him, whether he and I were a couple or not. Luke had been a better child to my father than I had. And now I was out of time to make up for it.

So I kissed Dad's hand and left the room, shutting the door behind me. I went into the kitchen and let Irene know how thankful I was for all that she'd done.

"I've been in hospice nursing for years, but I never quite met a man like Joe," she whispered. She had tears in her eyes. "The last six months or so, Luke convinced Joe to hire someone from hospice to help with the daily upkeep of the house. Joe just couldn't handle the day-to-day stuff."

"You have been a huge help, Irene. My dad has been lucky to help you," I said.

"I'm going to miss him," she admitted.

The way she said it caught my attention. Was there more going on here?

"I think everyone will miss him. Even after ... after he pa.s.ses, I would still like you to come take care of the house. I don't know what my immediate plans are, so I don't want to get your hopes up that it will be forever, or that I need taking care of, but if you're interested in the housekeeping aspect, I'd be happy to have you," I told her, wondering how much her services cost.

"That is sweet, Mallory. Really. But I am no longer employed by the hospice agency. I got done three months ago," she said.

"So then, why are you here?" I asked.

"Your father is an amazing man," she said.

It was her way of answering without actually answering me. She and my father had a thing going. And they were in their forties. I guess love happens at any age. I smiled at her.

"When Luke is finished talking to my father, I'd like you to sit with him for a while," I suggested, knowing that's exactly what she would want to do.

She nodded her thanks and I went to sit on the front porch swing. I sat there for several minutes before Luke came out onto the porch and sat next to me. We didn't speak; we just sat there in silence. When his hand wrapped around mine, I entwined our fingers together, still unsure of my true feelings, but emotionally drained. I needed his comfort. I put my head on his shoulder and he put an arm around me.

We sat there, silently awaiting the death of the man who was a father to both of us.

FOURTEEN.

Luke.

Joe's death was one I didn't want to deal with. He was practically my own father, and after what he'd said to me before he died, I felt like that was the case even more so. He'd held on for three more days before the cancer took him. Mallory and Irene were sitting with him when he breathed his last. I'd been in the kitchen, consoling my aching heart with food.

Mallory's screams drew my attention and I ran into the room to find Mallory with her head on Joe's chest, sobbing. Her agonized cries tugged on my heart.

"You promised me, Daddy. You broke you promise," she whispered, over and over again.

Irene had called the medical examiner and funeral director and it had taken all of us to get Mallory to let go of her dad. When she finally turned from him, she threw herself into my arms and cried heart-wrenching sobs. Her whole body convulsed with her tremors. I did the only thing I could do; I wrapped my arms around her and held tight. She would always find comfort from me.

That was three days ago and the funeral was later today. Joe's words from our little chat haunted me to no end.

"I want to ask you about your intentions with my daughter," Joe said.

My jaw dropped. He was dying but he still put her first. He was the epitome of a devoted father.

"I, umm, I don't know what you mean," I babbled, wondering what he wanted from me.

Joe was direct. "Do you want her back or not, son?"

"Of course I do," I answered honestly.

"And if you get her, what do you plan to do about it?"

"Are you asking me if I plan to marry her?"

"d.a.m.n right I am. I see the way you look at her, Luke. I know you aren't the love 'em and leave 'em type. So tell me what you intend to do with my daughter."

This was insane. Mallory was only twenty-one and I was going to be twenty-four in a few months. We were too young to consider marriage, especially if Gabby and Wolfe were any indication of what young marriage led to. I didn't want resentment between Mallory and me.

"I'm in love with her, Joe. But marriage? At our age? I just don't think that's a viable option, especially when she's emotional and her future is unclear. She doesn't know if or when she's going back to Boston and I don't want to push her," I announced. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans and felt vulnerable and uncomfortable.

"I want to know she's taken care of, Luke. You're the only man I trust her with," he said.

I was humbled.

"Whether you end up together or not, I want your word that you'll take care of her. For her entire life," he added.

"I promise," I said quickly. I didn't need to think about protecting Mallory. It came naturally.

"That's my boy," he said and lifted a frail hand to shake mine.

His boy. Joe wanted me as a son-in-law. He wanted me to marry his daughter, settle into this house, and raise babies. I couldn't help but think I wanted that, too. But I knew Mallory. She wasn't the type to accept men planning out her life. She would have to make her decisions on her own time frame, without anyone pushing her.

And today was not the day to push. She'd been an emotional wreck after Joe's death and Rainey and Gabby had moved into the house in order to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. She wasn't suicidal, but depressed people were unpredictable. The doctor's had prescribed valium that first night, to help her sleep. But after six straight hours of night terrors, Gabby and Rainey had convinced the doctor's she shouldn't take the pills anymore.

So she went without medication and although I was certain she wasn't sleeping well, as evidenced in the dark circles around her eyes, she wasn't have nightmares, either. She was coping. It was going to be a hard day for her. I had made a lot of the arrangements, since Joe's instructions had been specific and Mallory wasn't capable of much. The official reading of his will would be sometime next week. I was told I needed to attend, since I was in it. That he'd thought of me in his last wishes made my heart clench.

I made my way to pick up Mallory and the girls. Baker and Wolfe were meeting us at the funeral home. I pulled into the driveway and Rainey was outside on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

"Careful, Rain, those things will kill you," I joked.

Her face went white and she tossed the cigarette away. I grabbed her arm before she could run into the house.

"I was kidding, Rainey."

The joke might have been in bad taste, but the tears welling in her eyes weren't about Joe.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I can't tell you," she whispered. Her long eye lashes dragged tears out of her eyes and onto her cheeks.

"You can tell me anything. I won't tell anyone."

It was true. Even though today was about Joe and Mallory, Rainey was my friend, too and I would protect her as best I could.

"I can't. Not today. Let's just focus on Mallory today," she suggested.

I didn't want to push her into telling me, but I was also dying to know.

"Of course," I said. "I'm always here if you need me, though."

She nodded her thanks and took off into the house, presumably to fix her makeup. Why women wore makeup to a funeral, I would never understand. I opened up the screen door and walked inside. One look at Mallory and I immediately understood why they wore makeup.

She was seated on the couch, her hands in her lap. She looked up when I walked in but her face didn't change. She was pale and didn't have any make up on. She looked like a ghost. The black dress and tiny black veil made her blue eyes pop, the color lighting up her face a bit. But there was sadness in those pretty eyes, a sadness that reached into her soul. She might never be the same again.

"Mallory, let's finish getting you ready," Gabby said, pulling on Mallory's hand.

Mal went with Gabby without a word, seemingly uncaring about how she looked. I knew this would be hard for her, but I never imagined it would crush her like this.

In the last three days, she'd spoken less than ten words to me. She didn't answer my calls and she replied to my texts with one-word answers. She was distancing herself from me. I was angry about it, but what could I say? Joe's death would probably be the hardest thing in her life to overcome. But she would. Eventually. She just needed time to grieve.

When Rainey reappeared in the living room, she looked no worse for the wear, and a sweetly sad smile was plastered on her face. She avoided eye contact with me and went into the kitchen to help with the food. There was going to be a reception here at the house after the funeral. I had protested that a reception Mallory couldn't escape from was a bad idea, but I was overruled. I sighed. These women were always overruling us men.

Gabby entered the living room with Mallory trailing behind her. Mal was wearing makeup, her eyes coated in thick black mascara that made her eye lashes look extra-long. I hoped Gabby had been smart enough to use that waterproof stuff; there was no way Mallory wouldn't cry today. I walked up to her and she looked up at me expectantly.

"You can do this," I said. I wanted only to give her comfort but it backfired.

"Of course I can do this, Luke. I don't have any other choice," she said.

Her voice was unnaturally calm and not even the slightest bit emotional. As I pondered the meaning of that, she turned away and went to join the women in the kitchen. Something about her was off, but I couldn't place it. She seemed more distant than normal, but I expected that. There was something else going on. I followed her to the kitchen.

"We need to get going," I said to the room. The four women turned to me and I felt like a child. "It's almost eleven," I added.

Irene glared. Rainey rolled her eyes. Gabby sighed. Mallory didn't do anything. She just looked at me with her baby blues void of all emotion.

"Yes, girls, let's get going," Irene said finally.

She gathered her purse and ushered me and the girls out of the house. She was a mother hen, but I didn't complain. She was able to get those women out of the house when my efforts had been wasted.

Once we were in the car, the five of us settled into an awkward silence. There were no words for a day like this. No amount of compa.s.sion and apologies about her loss would console Mallory. Not that she seemed in the mood for consoling. The silence went on and on until we finally reached the only funeral home in town. There was a parking lot on either side, but we were early, so it wasn't filled yet. After the effect Joe had on this town, I imagined both parking lots, and even the parking lot of the bank across the street would be full.

I took a deep breath before we walked inside. There was a distinct smell about the building, one I was sure lingered from the hundreds of dead people who had come and gone through this place. I led the way through the double doors and into the room to the immediate right. There was a large hall with plenty of seating for anyone who came. A single aisle lead down to the casket that was sealed closed. I wasn't afraid, per se, but death was never easy. I made my way toward the casket and laid my hand against the cool wood.

"I'll take care of her, Joe."

I made my final promise. I knew he wasn't inside; he'd been cremated the day before. But I still felt a connection to the man whom I'd looked up to for the past few years. I walked away from the casket and turned back to where Mallory stood frozen at the back of the room. Rainey motioned me toward them, a look of severe anxiety on her face.

"Mallory is refusing to go to her seat," Rainey whispered as I approached.

I figured as much. I nodded to Rainey and took Mallory's arm. She tried to pull back but I wouldn't let her.

"I'm not ready for this," she whispered harshly.

I heard the fear in her voice and saw it in her cloudy blue eyes. I tugged her gently away from the crowd of people, further back in the room.