They arrived in West Rye New Hampshire just after 10:30 on Tuesday night. The day was overcast enough that Nick was able to go out before sunset with some added protection of hat, shades, etc, and once in the caddy he was protected by the polarized windows. As it was they made good time. Nick displayed a "talent" for persuading state police to forgive his speeding.
"Isn't that against the 'rules'?" Maura asked him when they were pulled over for doing 96 mph on the highway.
"The Enforcers never got around to considering moving violations," Nick explained after the smoky finished wishing them a pleasant trip and returned to his cruiser.
For most of the drive Maura stared idly out the window at the passing scenery, struggling mightily to forget where they were going and why. Nick kept his arm draped along the back of her seat, stroking the back of her head much of the time. There wasn't really much to say.
"If you want to take a nap I'll pull over and you can lie down in back," he offered after a couple of hours of silence. The vintage caddy didn't feature reclining seats.
"I'm okay," she told him somewhat listlessly, so he took her nearest hand and kissed it. "Okay. Just say the word if you want to take a break."
"Okay." But she didn't much care, figuring the sooner they got there the sooner she'd be through it.
The directions Annie had given Maura were simple and precise. Christopher's parents, brother, and the younger of his sisters lived not far from the ocean, in a good-sized frame house with a well kept yard and trees all around. It seemed every light was burning when they arrived. They left their things in the car as they approached the front door with Maura taking the lead. The door opened when she'd barely touched the bell, answered by a dark haired. Christopher's mother, she figured.
"Maura. Please, come in, I'm Margaret Martin, Chris's mom." She took Maura's hand rather than shook it, leading her in the door as she looked beyond to where Nick stood with his hand on Maura's shoulder. "You must be Nick. Thank you for coming with her, it's a long way to come on your own."
"Mrs. Martin, I'm so sorry for your loss. Maura told me a great deal about Christopher but I'm afraid I never got the chance to meet him."
"Please, call me Margaret. Come and meet the rest of the family. Chris told us a great deal about Maura and you too, Nick."
They met Christopher's dad Doug, his brother James and sisters Annie (whom Maura had called to get the directions) and Elizabeth. James was 16 and in high school, Annie 18 and soon to graduate. Elizabeth, Doug's daughter from a previous marriage, was in her late 20's and lived in Maine, and had come when she'd gotten the news. All seemed less shattered than Maura had expected, but then they seemed to be doing a good job of supporting one another. It seemed odd to Maura that Margaret was so concerned about her state of mind. They were all treating her very kindly, though it was apparent that James in particular was having a hard time and said little.
Margaret insisted on getting Maura something to eat after she had explained Nick's dietary and outdoor restrictions, and out of politeness Maura accepted some homemade corn chowder and bread and a cup of chamomile tea.
"Thank you, really, you don't have to go to all this trouble. You have your own concerns right now," Maura tried hard to deflect the attention as Nick stayed quietly by.
"It's no trouble. You were a good friend to Chris, and you belong here because of that."
"I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the service tomorrow," Nick told Margaret, troubled that Maura would be on her own.
"Don't worry, Nick, she'll be with us." A look of immeasurable pain clouded her face for a moment. "This is hard for all of us to deal with, even to imagine."
Maura announced tot the family, "I don't know if Christopher told you, but Nick's a police detective for Metro Toronto. He and his partner are working Christopher's case." Struck by how cold that sounded she added, "I'm sorry, that's a terrible way to say it."
"Not at all," Doug had come into the kitchen after making a series of phone calls. "It's good to know that the people trying to find the person that did this to our son have some sort of connection with him, even indirectly."
"Isn't it odd," Maura mused, "I feel like I've met you all. Not that I know you, but that Christopher introduced us."
"Not so odd." Now Annie and Elizabeth were sitting at the table with them as well. "Chris was always good at connecting the people he cared about even if they never really met."
James appeared in the doorway. "Nick, I can help you bring in your stuff and show you where you'll be staying."
Nick looked to Maura before he answered. "Really, you can leave me alone for five minutes," she assured him.
Nick led the way to the Caddy and opened the trunk to pull out the bags. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you and your family," he told James.
"I guess you deal with this a lot." He must have heard Maura's comments about Schanke and the ongoing case.
"That doesn't make it easy. Especially when it's someone close."
"But you said you never met my brother."
"No, but I know how important he was to Maura, and that makes it important to me." He unplugged the cooler from the cigarette lighter. "Special stuff for me to drink, I can just plug it in wherever we're staying."
"Part of your allergy and food stuff, huh?"
"Yeah. It's a pain in the butt, but you do what you have to."
Halfway back to the house, James stopped cold and turned to face Nick, his expression harder than any kid's should be. "You're gonna get the asshole that did this, aren't you?"
"My partner and I are gonna do everything we can. We're good at our jobs."
"And it's important, because of Maura."
"It's always important," Nick corrected, then admitted, "but you're right. Maura makes it personal."
"Good." They went inside and James took him upstairs to a comfortable-looking bedroom. By reflex Nick checked out the two windows.
"They're blackout blinds," James told him. "No worries."
Nick smiled as he plugged the cooler into an outlet next to the bedside table. "Thanks. I know it's weird."
"Life's full of weird. Chris told me plenty of weird."
Nick jerked upright and looked hard at the kid. "No worries," James repeated. "Friends of my brother are friends of mine."
Still uneasy, Nick stopped James' exit from the room with a hand on his shoulder. "James," he began, uncertain how to continue. He knew, Nick could just tell he did.
James shrugged offhandedly. "I told you. No worries. Your girlfriend did right by my brother, and so will you. So I do right by you. Understand?"
"I hope so."
It was just after midnight, and when Nick returned to the kitchen he could see Maura was worn to the bone.
"Come on, Sweet," he moved behind her chair and squeezed her shoulders, "let's call it a day." She looked up at him, and he restrained himself from kissing her.
"Okay. The service is at 11 o'clock tomorrow morning."
"We've been calling it a 'service'," Elizabeth explained, "but it's really just a gathering at the community center. Chris wasn't involved in any religion, so we're just going to get together and share some memories, play some music he liked."
"It sounds nice. I wish I could be there," Nick told them all.
"Me too," Maura whispered as they headed upstairs. When Nick led her into the guest room he noticed for the first time the bed was just standard full sized, maybe half the size of the monster they slept in back home.
"It's gonna get cozy," Maura commented.
"I don't mind," Nick hugged her round the waist. "No sneaking away in the middle of the night." She still did that from time to time. After getting changed into t shirt and sweats (he'd thought silks might be a bit over the top) he crawled into bed nearest the wall, in case Maura had to get up during the night.
"You never have to pee," she'd told him early in their relationship, "I hate that."
Maura was still fairly listless but growing more anxious inside. The Martin family made it very easy to see how Christopher (she couldn't bring herself to call him Chris as everyone else seemed to do) turned into the bright, interesting and open young man he had become. And the physical family resemblance was downright painful, James being a perfect image of his what his brother must have looked like at the same age. After washing up in the bathroom down the hall Maura returned to the guest room and hit the light switchr, momentarily blinding herself. She stood uncertainly just inside the closed door, the blinds blocking out any light from outside.
"Right here, Sweet, come to me," and she followed his voice until he could take her hand to draw her into the (comparatively) tiny bed with him. He was getting ready to snuggle up behind her as usual, but she didn't want to face away from him tonight. She managed to rotate so her head was settled on his shoulder, face against his neck and one arm around his waist. "Don't let me fall, okay?" She meant out of bed, but he chose to give it fuller meaning.
"Jamais, ma doucette," he tipped her face up so he could kiss her mouth and cheek and temple. She pressed into his shoulder again.
"I wanna go home," she murmured rather pointlessly.
He gripped her closer. "I know. I love you."
"I know. You too." She breathed in deeply to hold his fragrance, moonlight and silver.
Hours later on the way back from the bathroom she was drawn to the window at the end of the hall. It looked out over the yard, awash in moonlight. Christopher had told her how the moon lit up the garden here, how some nights during his visits home he and James would sit outside and talk nearly until the sun rose, about whatever came into their heads. Like him and her. The space left behind by that absence ached already. She was embraced from behind, a soft whisper at her ear.
"What's shaking, Sweet?"
"Nothing, I guess." He swayed her a little, side to side, slow, the way he sometimes did when she was pensive or upset but couldn't put it into words.
"Come on back, I'm lonesome."
Maura let Nick walk her back to bed, arms around her, and she fell into an uneven sleep again in his close embrace as he stroked her hair. She dreamt of moonlight, the garden, spending the night talking with Christopher. It was so real, so sweet and familiar, that waking jolted her when she realized where she was and why.
"Bad dream?" Nick had been awake most of the night, content to hold her as she slept, keeping watch over what he wasn't sure.
"Not bad, exactly. I was with Christopher, talking in the garden." She shut her eyes again. "It was so real, Nick." Her eyes snapped open again, wide, alarmed. "What happens when I can't remember anymore? I don't have any pictures, how will I remember his face?"
"You know I can help you hold onto that, if you want me to." She'd never wanted to take advantage of his special ability to affect her mind, but this time she felt she might say yes. "Maybe."
Nick dressed in silence, correctly guessing that Maura wanted to prepare herself on her own. Christopher was her friend and it was her loss, and no matter how badly Nick wanted to help there were some parts of this weight he simply couldn't share.
He wandered into the kitchen where Margaret was finishing her coffee. Politely declining the offered cup he sat down at the table with her, his thoughts with Maura upstairs. Doug was still getting ready, and James, Annie, and Elizabeth were already at the community center putting preparations in order.
"I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to know Chris. Even though you never met, he spoke very highly of you."
Nick deflected with an awkward smile. "It came from a prejudiced source."
Margaret put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. "Chris could tell the kind of man you are, from knowing Maura. She told him that meeting you gave her a new life. Seeing how you care for her now, I can imagine that."
Nick gave in to the woman's directness. "I'm worried about her, Margaret. You, Chris's family, you have each other to lean on, to get through this terrible thing. Maura just has me, and I'm afraid I'm not doing very well... I deal with death on the job every day, coming up with words of comfort for grieving strangers, but it seems I'm useless to someone I'm close to."
Margaret sat back and smiled. "I'm sorry you believe that, because from what I've seen it's just not true. You're standing by her, you traveled hundreds of miles to be with her when she needs you, for a friend you never even met. Those are the kinds of things that renew a life, Nick, it doesn't take magic words or perfect insight. You love her don't you?" She didn't allow him to answer. "That's more than many people have. Believe it or not, it can be enough."
Nick turned away as Maura quietly entered the room. She was dressed in purple and green. "I know it looks a little strange, but they were our colors. For the game, I mean. Christopher was purple, I was green. Always."
Margaret rose with a kind smile. "You look lovely. I think Doug should be ready, and we don't want to keep our other friends waiting."
Our other friends, Maura thought to herself. It really was as if Christopher had brought them all together, like he'd frequently said he'd like to do. When Margaret had gone Nick went to where Maura was looking out the window, standing just beyond where the sun reached into the room.
"It's a pretty day," he said a little wistfully. "Maybe I can pull it off, you know, the shades and hat and all that."
She turned and laid both hands on his chest. "You'd burn yourself to a crisp for me, wouldn't you?"
He shrugged. "Call it a weakness."
"Just Nick," she began, but couldn't think of anything sufficient to express her feelings.
"I love you too," he told her, and kissed her forehead. "You go and say goodbye. I think it might be easier now." She nodded and took his hand as he walked her to the front door where Margaret and Doug were waiting.
Maura expected some kind of dramatic release at the gathering, something that would turn the lock inside of her again and trigger the sort of outburst she'd been fearing. To her surprise she felt no internal struggle at all. There were many people there, family friends and contemporaries of Christopher, some tearful but most smiling. His photo, taken somewhere in the sunshine (had she ever actually seen him in the sunshine, she tried to remember), smiling and windblown, was displayed on a simple table surrounded by cd's, an electric guitar, a skateboard (he'd given that up, he said, because Toronto had no prime real estate for it), and of course film posters, DVD's, and vhs cassettes. What made her smile the most, to her even greater surprise, was the Genus IV edition of Trivial Pursuit set up as if ready to be played. One of the countless music tapes he'd dubbed so artfully – he had such an ear for how to compile strange collections that worked beautifully – was playing from the community hall sound system. There was coffee and soda, incongruously, half a dozen or so bottles of Cristal champagne set up on a silver tray. Next to them was another silver tray arrayed with crystal champagne flutes, all of them etched with delicate lilies, obviously quite expensive. Maura wondered if there'd been a collection taken up for the event she was unaware of. As she stood looking at the arrangement, Annie approached.
"These were delivered today, from Toronto. This note came with them, I didn't want to open it before you did." The linen envelope was inscribed "Friends and family of Christopher Martin".
Immediately Maura recognized Janette's elegant hand. Maura withdrew the note and read it aloud to Annie : "To Maura, and the family and friends of Christopher Martin: Please accept these gifts to honour a rare friendship; those who transform our lives must not pass uncelebrated. Yours humbly Janette duCharme."
Annie choked up. "Beautiful," she murmured. "Did Janette know Chris?"
Maura shook her head. "Not really. She and Nick go way back; she owns the club where I work, where Christopher used to spend evenings visiting me out back during the slow hours. She only met him once, when he came looking for me on my night off. He made an impression, and Janette is rarely impressed."
"You must be very close," Annie observed. Again Maura nodded.
"She gave me the chance for a life I never dreamed of, a job, a place to live, and Nick."
"You mean she introduced the two of you?"
"Uh-huh." It meant much more than that, of course, but Maura could never explain.
The gathering was casual and warm, sharing recollections and more than a few funny stories. Maura found it easy to relate some of the sillier moments of her times with Christopher, usually related to their games. It was, as Janette's note suggested, far more celebratory than funereal. Even the tears were usually triggered by bursts of laughter. And everyone greeted her as if they knew her, and she felt as if they did. He'd introduced them, after all.
Maura was selected to present the champagne toast, and bottles were opened and glasses filled and passed around. "I don't think I can do better than my friend Janette," she began before briefly explaining who Janette duCharme was and how Christopher came to inspire this gift. She then read the note aloud to the company, and raised her glass: "To Christopher Edward Martin, who managed to transform us all." "To Chris!" everyone shouted with raised glasses and drank as one. The three bottles left untouched were marked for further celebrations, to be used only as a toast to him.
On the drive back to the house Doug was curious. "Not that I don't know how special my son was, but what could he have said to your friend to prompt over a thousand dollars' worth of champagne and crystal?"
"She never really told me," Maura lied, "but you have to know that Janette isn't given to empty displays, even though she can afford them."
When they arrived back at the Martin home they found Nick pacing nervously in the living room. He fairly sprang to the front door, almost forgetting to avoid the sunlight streaming in. Maura pushed him back abruptly. And subtly, she hoped, on account of Doug and Margaret.
"Don't be so jumpy, Nick."
"How was it," Nick asked, feeling supremely stupid for the question.
"It was lovely," Margaret assured him. "Your friend Janette sent some very expensive champagne and crystal glasses and a lovely note, so we could toast Chris and his influence on our lives."
Any suspicions Maura might have had regarding Nick's involvement were erased by his expression of surprise. "I'll show it to you later," she promised.
She did show him, upstairs in the bedroom as she gave him details of the memorial. "I thought I'd be upset, but I wasn't. Not really, anyway. It was, I don't know, friendly, like Christopher had brought us all together to enjoy each other's company."
Nick eyed her. "That's all?" He was still worried about her obvious distance from such a traumatic loss. Only a random phrase here and there, her mood swings at home, had hinted at the turmoil that must be hiding within.
"Yeah, Just Nick, that's all." She gathered things to put in her traveling bag. They'd be leaving the next day after dark, and as always she hated leaving things to the last minute. Nick stopped her busy hands with his own.
"Maura, I'm a little concerned you haven't really taken this in yet. You seem a bit matter-of-fact about the whole thing, all things considered."
She stopped and stood and looked into his eyes. "Bats I really, honestly, don't feel any sort of inner battle to hold anything down. I swear. I don't know why. Maybe it's self preservation. I can't manufacture hysteria, even if it would make you feel better."
He frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. How could that make me feel better?"
Maura brushed the hair from his forehead, the way he often did when he was focusing on her. "I'm sorry, that was wrong. Look, Nicolas, it hurts, okay, it does, but I'm just not the meltdown type I guess. Maybe I've just forgotten how."
"I don't think you have anything to 'forget'. I don't think anything quite like this has ever happened to you."
She shrugged uneasily. "Yeah, well... I don't know what to tell you."
Nick stepped closer and reached his arms around her. "Whatever you need to."
She knew exactly what he meant, and knew he was right. But she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to dig too deep, not now. Maybe never. So instead of saying anything she laid her face against his shoulder and hugged close to him.
"You're all I need, Nick," she said finally, "I don't need talk, I don't need therapy, I don't need some inner journey to embrace my loss. I just need you, okay? Can you believe me?"
"You bet," he said in her ear, sealing it with a kiss. But that night he knew she wasn't sleeping as they lay tangled together in bed. Once again he said nothing, deciding to wait until her need made itself apparent to both of them.