Chapter Three: Bind Up the Overwrought Heart
Artorius buried a smile – both of his children had instinctively gravitated to his cousin's side, curious about the new person in their lives and able to sense Greg's soul-deep grief. And Greg, though ravaged by life, nodded solemnly at Alanna as she chattered away at him, pointing to the strawberry lemonade on the restaurant's menu.
"Why do you like it?" Greg asked when Alanna took a breath.
"It's strawberry," she exclaimed, then frowned. "And tart," she said after a moment of deep, serious thinking.
Greg nodded as if she'd imparted a deep secret of the universe. "Tart strawberry. Can't go wrong there."
Alanna beamed, snuggling closer. Then, gazing up at Greg with all the solemnity she could muster, she asked, "Why are you so sad?"
"Alanna," Victoria chided, gazing sternly at their daughter. Glancing up, she said, "I'm very sorry."
Greg held up a hand. "I'm not offended," he replied. "Children aren't afraid of calling out the elephants in the room."
Lance looked up, eyes shining. "There's a elephant? Where?"
All three adults snickered. Reaching out, Artorius smoothed down Lance's hair. "There isn't one, son. It's a figure of speech."
The boy's face fell. "Oh." He frowned, tilting his head to the side. "What's that?"
"Your sister pointing out the obvious," Greg said, tone dry.
"You'll understand when you're older," Artorius intervened, seeing a flood of questions on his son's face. Leaning over, he pointed out an item on the menu, smirking to himself as Lance lit up. Victoria passed over several children's menus and the craeyons the waiter had given them, successfully distracting both children from any additional questions.
Usually, the Samhaine remembrances were done in the family manor, with wine to toast the fallen after each name, but this was a Muggle restaurant and Artorius had no intention of putting temptation right under his cousin's nose. As the meal came towards a close, he ordered four fresh glasses of strawberry lemonade, adding a fifth at his cousin's curious expression.
When the drinks arrived, Artorius put a fresh straw in his and swirled it, but did not drink. Their children took one or two cautious sips, then sat back, waiting. Looking up at Greg, Artorius explained, "Every year, on Halloween, my family and I take time to remember those who have gone before. You don't need to join us if you don't wish to, but we would like to fulfill that tradition now."
Greg's eyes widened and he sat back, regarding his own fresh glass of strawberry lemonade. Something shifted in his expression and he nodded. "If you don't mind, I might."
"We don't mind at all," Artorius replied, lifting his glass. Locking eyes with Victoria, he began, "James and Lily Potter."
"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin," Victoria replied.
"Nymphadora Tonks and Fred Weasley." Alanna piped up.
"Cedric Diggory and Lavender Brown," Lance added, not to be outdone.
Artorius smiled, but… "George and Anne Darcy," he said, watching tears spring to Victoria's eyes.
"Percival and Alexandria Calvin," 'Toria whispered.
"And to all who fell at Riddle's hand," Artorius finished. Usually, they named far more of the fallen, but it wouldn't do for his Muggle cousin to realize they were memorializing a war he'd never even heard of.
As it was, his cousin was shaking his head. "And I thought I'd lost people," he remarked.
Victoria gently hushed their children while Artorius said, "At one time, there was a very prolific serial killer in our community. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of our law enforcement, it took many years to stop him. Victoria and I did not know all of his victims, but a close friend of mine suffered greatly at this killer's hands. Most of those whom my family remembers are Harry's friends and family."
Greg grimaced, shaking his head again. His eyes fell to his glass of strawberry lemonade, resting on it for several seconds before his jaw tightened. Gripping it, he lifted it, closing his eyes. "John Reese. Lionel Fusco." The glass tipped dangerously, but didn't fall – Greg set it down, wrestling with himself. Finally, he whispered, "Brian Maddox."
And that last name…Artorius felt a chill. His cousin's fallen teammate. And somehow, he knew – though his cousin was absolutely mourning the victims of the spree, the whiskey was not about them, not even the boy victim who'd been Lance's age. No, it was about Brian – for some reason, Greg blamed himself for Brian's death.
For the first time that night, Artorius was at a loss, but his children weren't. They crowded in next to his cousin, leaning into Greg as his face twisted and his shoulders shook with the weight of the grief he couldn't voice.
Alanna even managed to produce one of her favorite stuffed animals – a beautiful white unicorn with wings and a golden horn, mane, and tail. "Here," she insisted, thrusting the winged unicorn at Greg, "Sunstar will help you!"
Greg's eyes flew open and he looked down at the determined little girl. His throat worked in a convulsive swallow. Then he snatched up Alanna and her toy, hugging them both to his chest as tears broke through. Lance threw his arms as far around Greg's waist as they would go, leaning his head into the grieving man's side.
Four complete strangers – and yet they'd helped him more in one night than an entire week of going to bars, just so Eddie would show up and drag him out. Fighting back against Eddie was familiar – a way to distract himself from the wrenching pain in his chest that just wouldn't come out, no matter how many times he tried to muster up the will to talk about it.
Greg gently settled the little girl back on her bench, hoping he hadn't scared her too badly. But Alanna beamed up at him and reached up with one tiny hand to touch his chest. "Feel better now," she declared.
He laughed. "I do," he admitted, stroking her stuffed animal with one finger. "Thank you."
"Mommy and Daddy always say to give sorrow words," Alanna informed him.
Greg glanced up, but his hosts were smiling and nodding at their daughter proudly. Turning back to the girl, he said, "That's very wise, sweetheart, but sometimes it's hard to talk about things like that."
She pondered that, her little face twisting up in thought. "Then," she began, frowning harder. "Then give it smaller words until the big words come out!"
He choked on a laugh, blinking. Smaller words. It didn't get much smaller than just saying Brian's name. And yet, that was more than he'd managed to say to Eddie all week. Oh, Ed knew he'd lost a member of his team – that was all over the news – but he hadn't even managed to tell Ed who it was. It had just been too hard. Too painful.
The big words… They weren't suited for little ears – and he wasn't sure he was willing to speak them yet. But… Maybe instead of going to a bar and taunting Eddie with his possible slide back into alcoholism, he needed to just turn up on Eddie's doorstep and talk to him. Tell him about the man Brian had been. How hard it was to lose one of his guys – and to something so preventable. If only Brian had trusted him enough to fire immediately…
He couldn't bring Brian back, no more than he could bring John back or get Lionel to forgive him. But… He could take this experience and use it to make himself a better negotiator. A better leader, one who could be trusted enough that if he ever called Scorpio on a teenage shooter again, his teammates wouldn't hesitate. Because they'd know he'd done everything possible before going lethal.
But for now… Greg felt two sets of little arms wrap around him and two trusting faces lifted to his. "It'll be okay, Mister Greg," Lance proclaimed.
Yes, yes it would. Not yet, but it would be. So Greg hugged the children back, silently giving thanks that Arthur Calvin's cousin had been too busy to show up. Idiot had no idea what he was missing.
And if there was a part of his brain that pointed out the likelihood of a complete stranger cozying up to him in a bar and then promptly introducing him to his family and helping him cope with his grief, well… Greg forcibly discarded that observation. Stranger things had happened, he was sure.
After all, it wasn't like he was related to the man or his family. That was just outlandish.
~ Fin
Author Note: Happy Halloween 2023 all. Not as upbeat a Halloween story as usual, I confess, but it felt right to go this route. It's been a rough couple years and the world seems to go crazier and crazier with every single day that passes.
But in the midst of the storm, God is still in control and He holds the world in the Palm of His Hand. Nothing that we're going through is a surprise to Him. And I have faith that His Plans are for Good and not for Evil. Plans to prosper us, to give us Hope and a Future.
I pray that each and every one of you are holding tight to the Lord and His Promises. It might be the night of the Stone Table, but we all know what happens when the sun rises. It will rise - and when it rises, Aslan will tear down the Witch's Castle and free Narnia from Evil's Grasp.
So God Bless and Keep the Peace!