Chapter Two
Weighing the Heart
Frowning down at the pans of freshly rinsed organs littering the autopsy table, Oliver sighed and plopped the liver onto the scale.
He marked down the reading with his clean hand on a piece of scrap paper before moving on to the next.
The rhythm of the predictable weights and measures settled his body, but it did little for the thoughts swirling around his mind.
As Oliver picked up the dead woman’s heart, he couldn’t help but wonder how one little organ, barely bigger than a fist, could cause so much trouble.
No wonder the Ancient Egyptians gave it such gravitas, he thought as he recorded its weight.
He was about to move on to the kidneys when the inner laboratory door clicked open and bounced into the wall with a clatter.
“Organs!” Oliver warned as Gwen swept inside.
“Oh, trust me, I already smelled them.”
A laugh escaped Oliver’s lips as he placed the kidneys onto the scale. After ten years of friendship, Gwen was more than accustomed to the sights and smells of his work. Standing at his elbow, she surveyed the table with a scholar’s eye before retreating with a noise of disgust.
“You better not start squeezing the intestines and stomach while I’m here, Oliver Barlow.”
“I promise I won’t, but while I finish up with Mrs. Ennis, can you start the coffee? I should be done in a few minutes.”
From the corner of his eye, Oliver watched Gwen levitate the cups and coffee grounds down from the cabinet above the bench.
Today, her black hair had been artfully braided and pulled back into a chignon, but what drew his eye were the gilt leaf earrings dangling from her ears that matched the pattern on her skirt.
He recognized it as it had been repurposed from one of her favorite dresses.
Over a shirtwaist, she wore a sharp midnight blue jacket that matched the vines twining across the mustard yellow background of her skirt.
She once told him it was one of her favorites because it made her glow, and she was right.
Oliver smiled to himself. If she was wearing it, she was probably in a good mood. At least one of them should be.
“Did your patient scare Felipe away or is he hiding in your room?” Gwen asked, filling the percolator.
Oliver marked down the weight of Mrs. Ennis’s lungs and pushed away from the table.
“He’s upstairs looking for the dead woman’s file, though unless the toxicology tests show something out of the ordinary, she probably died of natural causes.
He should be back down by the time the lunch trays show up. ”
As Oliver washed his hands with scalding water and soap, he could feel Gwen’s gaze boring into the side of his head. Double-checking that Felipe wasn’t around, Gwen sidled up to him with a wide grin.
“So how did last night go? Did Felipe say yes? I mean, I’m sure he did since he asked you first, but did he love his surprise?”
Keeping his eyes on the steaming water, Oliver swallowed against the knot in his throat. He shouldn’t have told her about his plan to propose to Felipe until after he did it, but he had been so excited at the time. Now, he had to let her down too.
“I didn’t ask,” he forced out.
The hot water tap abruptly shut off, and Oliver flinched as cold water blasted onto his rapidly reddening hands.
His fingers stung, but all he could think about was the weight of the ring hanging over his heart and the box still sitting heavily in his pocket.
With that familiar look between sadness and affection, Gwen handed him a towel.
“What happened? You were so excited yesterday.”
“I was, but it was not the right time to propose.”
“Oliver, you cannot let this become like the ballistics tests. You can only take Felipe to the botanical gardens so many times before he becomes suspicious or you completely lose your nerve.”
“I know, I know, but it wasn’t me this time.”
Sighing, Oliver slumped onto the nearest stool and resisted the urge to run his hand through his pomaded hair.
Instead, he cupped his face with his damp hands and stared at the dingy tile floor.
It wasn’t his fault this time, not really, though he couldn’t help but blame himself for bringing the letter to Felipe’s attention.
If he had just set the mail aside instead of being nosey, things wouldn’t have derailed.
As he struggled to reign in his brain, Gwen rolled the other stool over and perched beside him.
She asked if she could touch him before gingerly running a hand along his shoulders.
For a long moment, they sat in companionable silence until the percolator began to chortle and Oliver finally managed to work the words free.
“When Felipe first came home, everything was fine, but then, I noticed there was a letter for him. It turned out that it was from his parents, and he got...,” Oliver searched for a word that wouldn’t make Felipe sound worse than he intended, “out of sorts about it. And then, I got upset because he was upset. Once we calmed down a bit, we went out as planned, but things still felt off. I think Felipe enjoyed the botanical gardens, I really do, but there were times when it felt like he wasn’t truly there, like he was in his head miles away.
Dinner at Antonino’s was good too, and it did help Felipe’s mood somewhat. But—”
Oliver released a tired breath and sat up.
He kept waiting for the right moment that never came.
The entire night he couldn’t shake the feeling that Felipe was going through the motions of their outing for him.
“Then, when we got back to the apartment, I just couldn’t bring myself to propose.
Felipe made that trip to Coney Island so good for me, and I want to do that for him.
I would rather wait and try again when he’s in a better mood.
That way, at least, he’ll remember it as a good day, and not the day I tried to salvage by proposing to him. ”
“That’s fair. I don’t blame you for wanting to wait for when he’s in a better mood.” Giving Oliver’s shoulder a final squeeze, Gwen frowned thoughtfully. “What was in the letter?”
“I have no idea. I don’t think he ever opened it. Has he ever told you anything about his parents or family?”
“No, though he doesn’t really talk to me when you aren’t around unless it’s about you.
” When Oliver’s lips broke into a smile, Gwen gave his arm a playful whack.
“And the next time you postpone a proposal, you had better send a note to warn me! I saw Felipe in the hallway this morning and nearly congratulated him. Luckily, he was preoccupied and walked the other way.”
“I will, though hopefully there won’t be another postponement. Yesterday was just a stroke of bad luck.”
Or that’s what he told himself. Climbing to his feet, Oliver cranked open the nearest window just enough to let out the smell of organs and offal before Felipe came down for lunch.
A rush of crisp, autumnal air zipped inside, sending a shiver down Oliver’s spine.
He loved this time of year, even if it set some of the more superstitious members of the society on edge.
Soon, the Paranormal Society would host its annual All Hallow’s Eve party, which Oliver would usually only attend for an hour or so before sneaking off to the basement, but maybe this year, he would want to stay longer if he had someone to dance with.
As Oliver took the remaining cream from the empty mortuary cabinet, he pictured arriving arm-in-arm with Felipe in front of the whole society.
People would see their closeness and the new rings on their fingers and understand in a way those outside never could.
Oliver would try again; the previous night had been a small setback and nothing more.
“Do you think Felipe knew you were going to propose last night?” Gwen asked, pouring them each a cup of coffee.
“No, I don’t think so. For once, I think I did a good job of hiding my intentions.”
***
OLIVER HAD INTENDED to propose the previous night, and Felipe had ruined it.
Of that, he was certain. Letting himself into their apartment, Felipe tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and collapsed into his favorite armchair.
Oliver and Gwen would be expecting him in the lab soon, but he needed a few minutes alone before he could face them.
The moment he saw Oliver in his new suit and felt the uncertainty mixed with spangles of excitement coming across the tether, he should have known that was what he had been planning.
Guilt welled up in Felipe’s chest even though Oliver hadn’t been cross with him at breakfast or said anything about the previous night.
Perhaps that was what made it worse, that Oliver was so willing to let it go quietly.
It was only a letter. Felipe should have been able to maintain his composure, yet when he saw it in Oliver’s hand, his mind rebelled so hard and fast that he could scarcely think.
Those two worlds were never meant to touch.
Pulling the now crumpled letter from his pocket, Felipe stared at his mother’s familiar handwriting.
Every time he received a letter from her, he found himself caught between the desire to toss it into the fireplace and the urge to dutifully read every word and respond to it in the way his family expected.
When he first left California with Louisa and set out to work for the Paranormal Society, he had clung to those letters.
They were a reminder that, even though he betrayed his family’s trust, his mother still loved him and would keep the door open should he change his mind and return.
Now, they were a mocking reminder of a life he didn’t want—that he never wanted.