Chapter 11
Calleigh stared at her father, her blood now frozen in her veins and her skin engulfed in fire from head to toe.
"What did you just say?"
Her voice was so breathless, her tone so incredulous and full of ice, that her brothers, Duke, and Eric barely heard her, and deadly silence echoed in the wake of her words.
Eric still couldn't fully see Calleigh's face, but he felt her body shake stronger than ever. His hand remained on her shoulder in support and his eyes were fixed on her, until Duke caught his attention.
It appeared like the man wanted nothing more than to run from this house and everyone in it, but an uncharacteristic bravery somehow held him rooted to the spot and he stayed, albeit looking miserable, guilt-ridden, and tired.
"We need to tell them, Calleigh," Duke pleaded in a small voice. "It's been long enough."
"There's nothing to say, Dad!" Calleigh replied harshly.
Eric watched as Duke seemingly stood taller and set his shoulders in an attempt to muster up his courage.
J.J. and Derek would tell Eric he was right about their father, because Duke had never stood up for himself against any of his family for as long as they could remember, especially Calleigh or Caroline, and what they witnessed him do now was nothing short of shocking.
Duke locked eyes with his daughter. "If you don't, I will."
How could he? Calleigh felt the little air remaining in her lungs escape in a whoosh as if she'd been kicked in the chest, and a sheen of sweat began to bead on her brow.
She flashed back to Andrew and Sissy, to her best friend Danielle, all four of them climbing up on the roof to watch the fireworks over Oak Grove on the 4th of July. She heard the booms and cracks echoing across lakes and trees, muffled by the distance.
Danielle twirled a sparkler in her hand, tracing a cursive "D" in the air that left a trail of neon behind it. Her face was alight with excitement...
The memory pierced violently through Calleigh's gut.
And just like that, the walls that she had slowly and meticulously worked to bring down over the last year were back up in an instant. Her defenses prevented even oxygen from trickling through, and she felt a tightness begin to grow between her ribs and around her heart.
"What are you doing, Dad?" Calleigh asked, almost begging, struggling to say the words against the growing need for air.
"Cal, you heard Andrew. Judge is gone. And so is Caroline, now. It's been 17 years. Don't you think it's time?"
Through her spinning thoughts, she tried to remember Andrew's exact words. Judge Swanson, or more accurately, Andrew Swanson, Sr., never stepped foot behind a bench, but as the most powerful juris doctor in the parish for the better part of four decades, and with a capacity for holding grudges that was infamous across the state of Louisiana, he more than earned the moniker.
Andrew mentioned that Judge was gone from the firm; she hadn't missed that. She assumed the older man had retired like his partner, making way for his son to take his rightful place as principle attorney.
But, no. Duke meant something entirely different. It couldn't be…
"Gone, how?" Calleigh asked tentatively, afraid of what the answer could mean for her.
Duke ducked his head and shot a nervous glance at J.J. and Derek, who looked everywhere but at Calleigh.
"We couldn't get ahold of you, so I haven't had a chance to tell you. Judge had a heart attack a little over two weeks ago. He's dead, Lambchop. Nothin's bringin' him back."
J.J. and Derek finally braved eye contact with their sister, watching as disbelief and shock crossed her features. They saw her wheels turning as she processed this news, and as the seconds passed, her look turned into one of confusion, then pain—heart-stopping, gut-wrenching pain.
Calleigh, keep quiet. Calleigh, stay silent. Calleigh, don't say a word…
At an angle behind her, Eric couldn't see Cal's reaction, but he felt it when she grabbed her chest with her right hand, and wrapped the other around her waist, before doubling over to gasp for air. He caught her before she hit the floor and eased her to a kneeling position, swiftly maneuvering their bodies so he sat facing her.
"Eric!" she choked breathlessly.
"Calleigh, baby, you have to breathe," he soothed, or at least tried to soothe, because the alarm and urgency in his voice did little to calm her panic.
All of Derek's previous anger disappeared at the sight of his sister on the floor, fighting to pass air to her lungs.
"Cal! Dad, what the hell is going on?" Derek cried.
J.J. knelt on Calleigh's other side, but Eric waved him off. "Get me a paper bag, a jacket, anything," Eric ordered instead.
"I…can't…breathe," Calleigh gasped, tears streaming down her face. She fought the sobs as much as she fought for air, only worsening her panic attack.
Eric scooped her up into his lap and cradled her in his arms, battling his own pounding heart to help set a pace for Calleigh to ease her racing pulse.
"You got this, Cal. That's it. Slow it down. Breathe in, breathe out. C'mon, querida. In, and out."
J.J. reappeared proffering a paper lunch bag which Eric quickly snatched out of his hand.
"I'm gonna put this over your mouth, Cal, and you gotta breathe for me, okay? I know it hurts, but just copy me."
He affixed the bag gently over her nose and lips and began to set a deliberate pace. One long breath in, hold, one long breath out.
Another drag of air, and another, and Eric could tell it wasn't working. Calleigh's panic was winning and she was now gasping and choking on her sobs.
He didn't know what to do. Eight years of friendship with Calleigh and he'd never seen her self-destruct this way. He'd never seen anyone this distraught, to be honest. Everything in him told him to hold her tight, keep whispering words of encouragement in her ear, rocking her back and forth in time with the breaths she so desperately needed to take.
But then he thought back to the days of his own anxiety attacks after his shooting. Nothing worked for a while, not even the pills his doctor prescribed. One day he walked into Ballistics as Calleigh stood test firing a weapon, something he'd done a hundred times before, but this time, the succinct "bang, bang, bang," sent him instantly spiraling into panic mode.
It was the one and only time he allowed someone to see him lose control. Calleigh hurriedly secured the firearm and rushed to his side, but instead of trying to comfort him, she started reciting orders of procedure, forcing him to repeat them with her, until he felt the shakes subside and his skin grow less clammy.
After that, Eric's panic attacks occurred fewer and farther between, because every time he felt one burgeoning, he slowly began to list protocols, recount the periodic table, or cite SOPs.
Eric caressed a gentle hand up and down, up and down Calleigh's spine.
"Assess," he murmured quietly. "Observe, document, search…"
Calleigh flashed a terrified, but grateful, look at the man holding her close. She heard his words and they suddenly gave her something familiar to focus on, something structured. She had never been more glad to hear the basics of processing a crime scene.
Eric inhaled and exhaled with every word. "Collect, process, analyze…"
He repeated the mantra over and over, never ceasing his calming ministrations up and down Calleigh's back.
She leaned against him, closed her eyes, and zeroed in on the paper bag. She envisioned it expanding and contracting, imagined the crinkly sound it would make, and forced herself to push past the sobs until she managed to inflate, then deflate the bag. Then again, and one more time.
Finally, Calleigh gained some air and enough strength to wrap her hands around Eric's wrist. He understood, dropping his hand and the lunch sack from her lips so that she could join him in repeating his words.
"Assess, observe, document, search," she whispered shakily over and over. "Collect, process, analyze."
Eric could feel Calleigh's body gradually go limp in his arms as she calmed, until she leaned so heavily against him he wondered if she could move at all.
Calleigh wasn't sure she could, and she didn't care to move out of the safe space she'd found anyway. She felt wrecked, inside and out. She couldn't even gather the strength to be embarrassed at her breakdown, or guilty about worrying the men currently hovering over her and nearby.
J.J. hadn't strayed far after returning from the kitchen. He watched closely as Eric held his sister, talked her through her panic, and now rested his forehead against her temple to whisper something in her ear that he couldn't hear. He saw her immediately relax and snuggle into the man's embrace with a mighty sniffle.
J.J. wanted badly to ask Calleigh if she was okay or how he could help. He knew Derek, who stood by speechless and terrified, wanted answers. But J.J. said nothing, and neither did Derek. Whatever happened with Andrew or Judge or whatever Duke was referring to—none of that mattered at the moment.
"C'mon, Eric," he said. J.J. reached out a steady hand to help him to his feet with Calleigh still cradled in his arms.
Leaning on J.J. and using all of his strength to shift his body so he could lift Calleigh without jostling her, Eric managed to stand. He didn't even bother looking at the others; he simply turned his back on them and headed for the grand staircase.
Calleigh felt light but oh so heavy in his arms as he climbed step after step toward their bedroom. Eric glanced down and saw that she was quickly falling into an exhausted sleep.
God, he loved her. Even tear-stained and splotchy-cheeked, Calleigh was beautiful. Eric fought against the lump in his throat as he carefully laid her on the bed and covered her with the quilt.
Never, ever had he loved a woman the way he loved the one before him. Knowing she suffered shattered his heart, and not knowing how to help shattered it even more.
He knelt on one knee next to her sleeping form and gently ran a hand through her hair, down past her shoulder, coming to rest on her quilt-covered hip.
"I love you," Eric whispered brokenly. "We're gonna get through this."
He knelt there studying her features and watching her chest rise and fall for a long time, until he heard a creak behind him. It was Duke, standing hesitantly in the open doorway.
Duke motioned with his head for Eric to follow him out of the room, and as much as he hated to leave his post, Eric nodded in agreement. He took one last look at Calleigh, placed a feather-light kiss upon her forehead, and stood to trail after her father.
Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.