Bobby unlocked the front door and entered the dark house. A single light in the living room shone a welcome for him as his family slept. He closed the door and headed for the kitchen, planning to take his medicine and head upstairs to his wife. He was tense with need and his body ached for her.
After the ceremony, he had gone to see his cardiologist because of an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He'd left the office in a bad mood with a prescription in hand, worried that Alex was going to be upset with him.
You need to learn to relax, detective, to let go of the things that bother you. You need to reduce the stress in your life. Reduce his stress? Didn't the man realize that it was stress that cemented his life together and if he took it away, everything would crumble?
After calling Alex to let her know he was going to be in late and not to wait up, he stopped by Denise's apartment to talk to Mike. Denise was sleeping, as he suspected she would be, and he'd spent most of the evening talking to his best friend about the future and his concerns that he didn't have much of one left. Although he had no feasible suggestions for how to reduce Bobby's stress level, Mike had done a lot to restore his belief in modern medicine, and Bobby had gotten his prescription filled. Then he'd stopped in at his favorite Brooklyn bar for a few drinks which helped to ease the discomfort in his chest. A few drinks became more than he intended and he'd taken a cab home.
He stepped into the living room and stopped when he saw that he was not alone. Kneeling at the coffee table with her back to him was Maggie, diligently working in a puzzle book he had gotten for her.
She heard him come into the room and lifted her pencil from the page on which she was working. She twisted at the waist, looking up and fixing him with a penetrating gaze. He stopped by the couch and returned her look, his face soft. She continued to look at him, her expression revealing nothing as her nimble mind processed everything about him from the flush on his face to the unsteady sway of his body as he stood there. "Why didn' you drive your car home, Daddy?"
He cocked his head to the left a little. "How do you know I didn't drive home?"
"When you come home, your car lights shine inna window. I didn' know you was home until I heard you onna porch. Where's your car?"
He smiled at her simple logic. "I left it at Denise's. I can get it tomorrow. What are you doing up so late?"
"I woke up but you wasn't in your bed so I got my puzzle book and I comed down here to wait for you."
"You shouldn't do that, Maggie," he replied as he came around the couch and sat down near her. "It's very late. You should have gone back to sleep."
"But I wasn' tired."
"Maggie..."
"I know, Daddy. School starts soon and I gotta get all my sleep."
With another smile, he nodded. "That's right."
She closed her book and set her pencil on top of it. Then she stood up and climbed into his lap. She rubbed her palm over his cheek. "Are you okay, Daddy?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don' know. That's why I asked."
He gently kissed her forehead. "I'm fine, mouse."
"Promise?"
"Yes. Promise. I even saw the doctor today, and he said I'm doing okay."
That seemed to satisfy her and she leaned against his chest with a yawn. He pressed his lips against her head and said, "Listen to me, Maggie."
She turned her pretty little face up to look at him. "Okay, Daddy."
He smoothed her hair back as she looked at him with curiosity in dark eyes that were so similar to his. "You don't need to worry about me, baby. I'm okay and I'm going to continue being okay. Nothing is going to take me away from you." He gave her nose a playful poke. "Not ever. No matter where I am, no matter what happens, I will always be part of you."
Maggie thought about that, and Bobby smiled as he watched the concentration on her little face. He wondered what she was going to come up with. She was smart and unpredictable and she challenged him often, which was something he deeply appreciated. Very few people challenged him.
Maggie reached out and laid her hand on his chest. "You're al'ays in my heart," she said. "So that means I am al'ays in your heart, too, doesn' it?"
"Absolutely. You're in my heart and in my thoughts."
Her brow furrowed. "But...what happens when you gotta think about somethin' else?"
"You're still in there. My mind is always busy, and you're always there."
"Mommy, too? An' Tommy an' Harry an' Molly an'..."
He laughed. "Yes, yes...The family is always on my mind. Why don't I tuck you back in bed?"
She slid from his lap. "Okay, Daddy."
"Wait here."
He went into the kitchen and took down a glass which he filled with water. He grabbed his prescription bottle from the refrigerator and pulled the new one out of his pocket. He swallowed a pill from each bottle and put them both up on the refrigerator. Finishing the water, he set the glass in the sink and turned around. Maggie stood in the doorway, watching him. "You got more med'cine? Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick."
"But that's why you take med'cine, because you're sick."
"Sometimes people take medicine to keep them from getting sick."
"Is that why you got more?"
He nodded. "Yes. Now come on. Let's get you back to bed."
She sensed that he didn't want to talk about it, and she didn't want to upset him, so she didn't press the matter. Tucking her hand into his, she went upstairs with him. He tucked her into bed and kissed her good night.
Alex was sleeping lightly, waking easily when he came into the room. Relieved, she opened her eyes and watched him undress in the glow of the light that filtered in through the window. She couldn't tell his mood by watching him, but she could tell he'd been drinking. She wondered if it was celebration or depression that had driven him to the bottle.
He slid into the bed and turned toward her, intending to hold her while he tried to sleep. He was fairly well keyed up and he knew sleep would be elusive, despite the alcohol he'd consumed. He couldn't help being disappointed that she was sleeping because he wanted her badly, but it was a lot later than he realized when he finally got home. Unlike himself, Alex was generally able to quiet her mind and sleep peacefully through the night.
He rested his arm across her abdomen and his mind slid toward dark thoughts to calm his body, though they would do little to calm his mind and help him sleep. He shifted against her, restless and uncomfortable, and she turned into him, surprising him. "D-Did I wake you?" he murmured, even as he pressed a kiss against her temple.
She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep with you not here."
"Why?"
She stretched her body and tipped her chin up so she could nuzzle his ear. "I missed you," she whispered.
He smiled and sought her mouth, kissing her as his hands began to roam over her soft skin. She responded to his ministrations, and his caresses quickly became more urgent and heated. She encouraged him to continue, and he happily obliged.
She rested her head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart return to its normal steady rhythm. She stroked his chest, smiling at his soft hum of pleasure. As always, she felt warmth and reassurance from his desire. Drowsy and comfortable, she softly asked, "How was the ceremony?"
"It was nice. It took a lot out of her, though." He bit his lower lip, wondering what she really wanted to discuss. If she needed a segue, it couldn't be good.
"Have you been there this whole time?"
There it was. "Uh, no."
She waited. Even though he had called to tell her he would be late, she wanted to know where he had been. His call had spared him her wrath, but not her curiosity.
He stroked her hair and kissed her temple. "I, uhm, this afternoon, I went to see Dr. Bergman."
"You didn't tell me you had an appointment."
"I didn't."
"So why did you go to see him?"
"I wasn't feeling well. My chest felt...tight. He fit me in."
She swallowed a moment of panic. Busy cardiologists didn't just fit in patients on a whim. "What did he say it was?"
"Stress. I'm supposed to reduce the stress in my life, but I don't know any way to do that. There isn't much in my control that I can change. And I'm not ready to retire."
He was right. Retirement would kill him faster than the job would, even with the kids to keep him busy. He wasn't the type of man who would thrive in retirement. And there wasn't anything anyone could do for Denise. The family, she hoped, was a saving grace for him, but there wasn't a lot he could do about the rest of his life. He was trying to eat better and quit smoking, but it would be bad for him to make a lot of huge changes all at once. And the doctors couldn't fix the damage that bullet had done four years ago, which was why he was in trouble now. She still felt guilty that he had been shot protecting her, but she had come to terms with the fact that protecting her was something he would always do...whether she wanted him to or not.
Something else drove her guilt, though. Rarely did Alex go behind his back to do anything. She preferred to be direct and open. It just wasn't in her nature to be duplicitous. She didn't know what to make of his visit to see his cardiologist that day. Coincidence, she decided. It had to be simple coincidence.
She'd been busy all day with a new case, one that was proving to be the kind of difficult, convoluted case on which Bobby thrived. Albright didn't have the same kind of brilliance that made Bobby such a natural and he had to work for every lead, but he was determined and dedicated—and he learned quickly. When she told him she was stepping out for lunch, he immediately asked her if Bobby was okay. Maybe he learned too quickly.
After assuring her partner that her husband was fine, she drove to see Milton Bergman, his cardiologist. She realized that she must have left the office shortly before he got there. It was pure luck on her part that they had missed each other. It took a great deal of cajoling and, ultimately, some badge wielding to get the receptionist to ask Bergman if he had a few moments to spare for her. He carved out the time to see her from his busy schedule and, finally, let her talk him into discussing Bobby's health. She had spent the rest of the afternoon lost in a fog caused by the information she'd gotten from the doctor. The last part of their conversation, the part that took place after she asked him point blank about Bobby's heart, replayed itself in her mind as though it had been recorded, haunting her.
As you already know, his heart was damaged in that shooting four years ago. That's not something that gets better with time. The fact that he doesn't take proper care of himself is simply an aside. He already has two strikes against him. The fact that he has come this far along without a major cardiac event is nothing short of remarkable. He is, in effect, a walking time bomb. It's only a matter of time and there is nothing that can be done to change that.
Will he... She had been unable to complete her thought, but he'd read it as though he could see into her mind.
Will he die? Of course he will. Will it be his heart? Who knows? He's a cop. Every day he's out on the street is a day he could take another bullet. Barring outside influences, such as another bullet or the blade of a knife, he may have a few more years before this injury catches up with him. How many? I have know way to know. Five? Ten? That sounds feasible. Twenty? Not likely.
What about the pain he's been experiencing?
That was why he started seeing me recently. It's just the beginning. He isn't going to improve after this. The damage is taking its toll.
She lightly stroked his chest, deeply unsettled by the talk she'd had with Bergman. "Why are you so late coming home?"
"I...have a lot on my mind," he answered. "I guess I lost track of time."
She snuggled closer to him and he kissed her head. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem...agitated."
She was quiet for a few minutes before she finally confessed. "I went to see Dr. Bergman when I took my lunch today."
Bobby's entire demeanor changed. Slowly, he sat up and leaned back against the headboard. "Why would you do that?"
"Because you have this habit of keeping things from me."
"You should have asked me..."
"I have asked you, Bobby, and you won't level with me."
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want you to know?"
"That you're going to die? I have a right to know that."
"Everyone dies, Alex. I could take a bullet tomorrow."
"But that's not likely. You don't have to step in front of a bullet to protect your partner any more. He can take care of himself."
"What?"
"You heard me. You took that bullet protecting me and ultimately, that's going to be what kills you. It's going to take you before your time, before I'm ready to let you go."
Her voice had risen in pitch and tone, and she hated that she wasn't in control of her emotions any longer. She hated crying in front of him—or anyone.
He was still angry, but he drew her into his arms and held her. "You shouldn't have..." he began.
"I wouldn't have if you would talk to me and be honest," she said as she struggled to control herself.
"He doesn't know..."
"Yes, he does," she countered, tired of being patronized. "That bullet damaged your heart, and it's going to kill you. He knows that, and so do you. He can't say when it will happen, but it will happen. And it will be a lot sooner than any of us are ready. Do you honestly think you're going to live to see Maggie graduate from high school?"
Although he still held her, his body was now tense. He knew the answer; they both did. When he offered no argument, she lost her temper. "You were just going to spring this on me?" she accused. "Just let me deal with it when it happens with no time to prepare?"
He still didn't answer and she climbed out of the bed, turning to face him, her face taut with rage. "You were, weren't you?"
"How...How do you prepare for something like that?" he replied defensively.
"How could you even consider keeping it from me?"
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The truth was he had been keeping it from her for a long time. "He had no right..." he began, trying to shift the focus to Bergman.
"No, Bobby. He did the right thing because I have every right to know."
She had him. He agreed—she did have a right to know, and he'd been a coward when faced with the issue of his mortality. He had never been afraid to die and he wasn't now, but he had shirked his responsibility to her. He was still protecting her—this time from the truth.
But he was angry that she was forcing this on him. He felt trapped, and he resented her for it. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants. "Where are you going?" she demanded.
His mind buzzed with the replies he could give, but ultimately, he chose the least inflammatory of his choices. "Downstairs."
He moved past her and left the room. She made no move to stop him.
Alex sat on the edge of the bed and cried, her anguish fueled more by frustration than anything else. A light knock sounded at the door, forcing her tears away as she wiped at her eyes. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
The door opened and Maggie came into the room. She'd heard her parents' angry voices from her room and she'd poked her head out of her door after her father went downstairs. Looking first toward the stairs, then toward the closed bedroom door, she decided to see her mother first. When she heard a stray muffled sob from behind the door, she knew she'd made the right decision and she knocked.
Entering the room, Maggie crossed to the bed and climbed up beside her mother. She sat there and made a little 'huff' sound. Alex looked at her. She knew that Maggie had heard the argument, so there was no point pretending it hadn't happened. Maggie crossed her arms and her expression became grim. "Why do you and Daddy fight?" she asked.
Naturally, she had to start with a question whose answer was about as complicated as it got. "Ask your father," she answered, knowing it was a cop out.
"Why? Don' you know the answer?"
Alex almost laughed. Her beautiful, precocious little girl wasn't going to let her get away with anything. "It's complicated," she answered.
"Can' you esplain it?"
"Not easily, no."
So Maggie decided to help her by asking more specific questions. "Do you love Daddy?"
She couldn't get more basic than that. "Of course I love him."
Maggie nodded. She'd known the answer to that one. "How much?"
"Very much."
"As big as the ocean?"
"Bigger."
"As big as the ocean and the sky?"
"Bigger."
Maggie giggled a little. "Me, too," she agreed.
Alex hugged her, her anger gone. Maggie climbed into her mother's lap and put her arms around her neck. "It's easy, isn' it, Mommy?"
"Loving Daddy? Yes. It's very easy."
"And it's hard, too, huh?"
"Sometimes, yes. It's very hard."
"So which is bigger—easy or hard?"
"I don't know, honey. Sometimes they're both kind of the same."
Maggie thought for a minute, trying to formulate her next question. "If you love him easy and hard, why do you gotta fight so much?"
"It's not something we have to do and it's not something we can not do." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain passion to a six-year-old. "Sometimes the things we feel just...bubble over and we have to...debate about it, and sometimes it just gets away from us. We both feel very deeply and sometimes we just don't see things the same way."
"Like how Daddy loves D'nise and you don'?"
Of course that would have to be the example she chose. "I don't not like Denise."
"Then why do you get so mad when Daddy talks 'bout her?"
Alex looked at the clock. Three-thirty on a Tuesday morning wasn't the ideal time to be explaining anything to her little daughter. She was especially uncomfortable discussing what was wrong in her marriage with anyone, and it wasn't something with which Maggie needed to worry. "Maggie, you should be sleeping."
"I'm not sleepy. What did D'nise do wrong?"
"Not a thing. Denise has never done anything wrong."
"Then why are you so mad at her?"
"I'm not." She sighed. Maggie did not understand jealousy. There did not seem to be a jealous bone in the child's body, which was such a blessing. Perhaps she was just too young or maybe she, like Denise, would never be a jealous person. It was the latter that Alex wished for her. Jealousy was a curse. "It's not something I can explain to you, and I'm not going to try. You're a little girl and you don't need to worry about adult relationships. Daddy and I will be fine. Sometimes we argue but that doesn't mean we don't love each other. Actually, it proves we love each other very much."
Maggie frowned. "Fighting means you love someone?"
"Sometimes."
"You mus' love Uncle Mike, too, b'cause you fight with him, too."
Alex laughed. "I do love Uncle Mike, but not the same way I love Daddy. And I don't fight with him over the same things. It's very complicated, honey. Someday, when you're older, you'll understand."
"I wanna unnerstand now."
Alex shook her head. "That's not going to happen, little girl. Now I want you to go back to your room, get into bed and go back to sleep. Stop trying to think about big people problems. Don't worry about Daddy and me. We're going to be just fine. We always are."
Maggie was quiet for a minute. She hated when her parents fought and she just wanted to help make things right, if she could. She didn't understand that it wasn't something she could possibly help them resolve. In her mind, everything could be fixed. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Good night, Mommy."
Maggie pulled the door closed and walked down the hall, past her room and down the stairs. She stopped in the family room doorway to watch her father pace back and forth, the glass in his hand almost full. She could feel the anger and agitation rolling off him. Some people had the great sense to never poke a bear, and they would have given the man a wide berth. But Maggie loved the bear too much and she stepped into the room. "Daddy?"
Everything about him changed as he turned toward the beloved little voice. The agitated grizzly morphed into a teddy bear. She watched as his tense shoulders relaxed and some of the rigidity in his back softened. He sat in his favorite chair and set down his glass as she crossed the room and climbed into his lap. "Why are you still up?" he asked.
"I heared you and Mommy fightin'."
He sighed and his shoulders slumped a little in defeat. He tightened his arms around the little girl. "It's no different than any other time, Maggie. I got mad and I'll get over it. It's nothing for you to worry about."
"I don' unnerstand, Daddy. You love Mommy, so why do you gotta fight?"
He smiled. She didn't question his heart. "I do love Mommy. And sometimes all that love becomes just too much to bear and it bubbles over. Sometimes it's good and sometimes it's not so good, but still, it's always love."
She turned her head and looked at him as though he'd grown another head. He was familiar with that look from other people and he couldn't help a small laugh. He kissed her head again, his heart filled with love for the smart and spunky child in his lap. His smarts, her mother's spunk and an aggressiveness that was pretty much all her own, Maggie was the owner of his heart. "Let's hear it," he said, giving her permission to ask the question he saw on her face.
"I thought fights was bad."
"Not always. When we argue, it's a way of working out something that just doesn't quite fit, like driving in a nail with a hammer. Now in my case, it's more like driving a square peg into a round hole with a jackhammer, but I make it fit."
"Do you think you don't b'long with Mommy?" she asked with a scowl.
"Not at all. I have belonged to her for a very long time. There's no woman in the world better for me than her. I used to think that she could do a lot better than a guy like me, but then, when she tried to find someone better suited to her, I realized that there wasn't anyone better for her than me. It took her a little longer to figure it out."
"Mommy's smart."
"Yes, she is. She's very smart. And she knows how to find out things she wants to know."
She noticed the change in his tone. "Isn' that what you and Mommy do, Daddy? You find out thin's you wanna know."
He nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly what we do. We ask the right questions to the right people."
"And that's what Mommy did," she guessed.
She reached out and ran her small hand along the longest scar on his chest, the scar that hid the injury that was at the root of his argument with Alex. Her touch was cool and light. He closed his eyes; the tender touch was soothing.
Slowly, he forced his eyes open. Maggie was watching him. "You needa rest, Daddy. It's bad for you not to get enough sleep."
He had a lifetime of not enough sleep behind him. He kissed her head. "Come on, mouse. I'll tuck you in again. Maybe Mommy and I can not wake you up again."
"Maybe you can kiss Mommy insteada yelling at her," Maggie countered with a gentle scold to her tone.
"I can probably do a better job of that if I stay downstairs and sleep on the couch."
"An' if you do that, Mommy will be the one doin' the yelling."
He gave that a little thought until they stopped outside her bedroom. "Good point," he conceded. "I have more control down the hall in my bedroom."
She tipped her head and looked up at him. "Control?" she asked.
He sighed and gently pushed open her door. "It's an illusion," he explained, realizing how little control he really had in his life.
He gently tucked her in, kissed her forehead and returned the tight hug she gave him. Then he stepped out of the room, pulled the door closed and looked down the hall to his bedroom. He took a step in that direction, hesitated, then turned and went back downstairs.