Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“ A re we having a party?” Ian stopped to wipe his feet on the doormat, and his eyes danced around the room, taking in his uncle Frankie by the fire and Grandpa Frank opposite him, the two of them whispering conspiratorially.
Grandma Jen drew him in for a hug and lingered. “No, sweetheart. Your uncle Frankie just stopped by to check in. Come in from the cold. You look hungry. Can I make you something to eat?”
Ian unwound his scarf and left his boots by the door. “It’s okay, Grandma. I had a big breakfast at the station. I just thought I’d stop by on my way home from work.”
Grandma Jen patted his head and smiled. “There’s no need to trouble yourself, dear. I know how tired and busy you can get.”
Ian hung up his coat on the back of the door and turned to face his grandma with a smile. “I’m never too tired or busy for you, Grandma.”
Grandma Jen waved his comment away and ambled into the kitchen, her skirt swishing with every movement. In the kitchen, he watched her measure out some tea and coffee before rummaging through the fridge. Her weathered face was all smiles when she reemerged, a strange twinkle in her eyes.
“Why don’t you join your grandpa and uncle in the living room? I’ll be right out.”
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
“I’ll call you if I need you.” Grandma Jen offered him an indulgent smile, and gnarled hands waved him off. “Go on now.”
With one last smile in her direction, Ian stepped into the living room overlooking the kitchen and paused to scratch the back of his neck. Grandpa Frank and Uncle Frankie were sitting in armchairs opposite the fire, discussing the latest news. As one, the two of them trailed off when they noticed him and offered cryptic smiles.
“Don’t stop on my account.” Ian sank onto the brown leather couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. “But I hope you’re not expecting me to contribute to the conversation. I barely keep track of current events.”
Grandpa Frank sat up straighter and linked his fingers together. “Frankie was just telling me about the trip you took to meet with the PI’s son.”
Ian averted his gaze and folded his hands in his lap. “Yeah, it’s a shame it didn’t work out.”
Grandpa Frank pursed his lips together. “E, you know we don’t like to get involved in your personal life, but what, exactly, are you doing with your life?”
Ian glanced between the two of them and blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“We know you’re not studying for the detective exam, even though you spent the past few months talking about it,” Frankie said with a lift of his chin. “You’re spending too many nights at the police station, even when you don’t have a shift.”
“I wasn’t aware people were keeping tabs on me.”
Grandpa Frank leaned forward, and his eyes were tight. “We’re just worried about you, son. You can’t let your mom’s case take over your entire life like this. You need to remember you’ve got things worth living for.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Grandpa Frank searched his face, his dark eyes surprisingly bright and alert, but the corners of his mouth were still turned down. “Because it looks like you’re putting things on the back burner and chasing after ghosts.”
Ian cleared his throat. “They’re not ghosts.”
Grandma Jen materialized, carrying a tray of sandwiches and iced tea. She set it down and took a seat opposite Ian. Then she leaned forward and prepared one of the plates. “Frank, don’t be so hard on him. He’s trying to find answers. He deserves closure.”
“We all want closure, but not like this.” Uncle Frankie shook his head, a wisp of thinning hair falling over his forehead. “You can’t let it consume you.”
Ian busied himself with the tray, his mind racing with ways to respond. “I don’t need an intervention, okay? I’m fine—really.”
Except everyone in the room, including Ian himself, knew he was lying. But he didn’t want to admit how rattled he was by the talk or how uncomfortable he felt sitting there while his grandparents and uncle held a mirror up to his face.
But he made himself sit still while they unburdened themselves and gave him advice. When they were done, he stayed a while longer, sipping on the now lukewarm tea and nibbling on a cookie that tasted like ash.
Grandma Jen reached across the couch and took his hand in hers.
She said nothing as she chewed on a small sandwich.
When Ian got up to leave, his grandma walked him to the door and pulled him in for a hug, her frail and petite form still retaining some of its strength and grace. He patted her on the back, inhaled the smell of sugar and flour, and sighed. Then he was waving goodbye and getting into his car.
As soon as he pulled up outside his house, Ian grimaced.
Usually, he liked seeing Darren’s truck parked outside, especially when the sound of laughter spilled out onto the front porch. Through the curtain, he saw his sister’s vague outline standing next to her father’s towering frame.
Sighing, he got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him, dreading the thought of another lecture that was going to leave him with a bad feeling in his stomach and chest.
He’d had enough of those for one night.
Sophia greeted him in the doorway with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen. You’re on your own.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look what the cold dragged in.” Sophia stepped back and made a sweeping hand gesture, indicating a red-faced Lucy in the kitchen, with Dean in an apron beside her.
Opposite the kitchen counter, Stu and Darren stood side by side, sipping on beer and keeping up a steady stream of conversation. Ian exchanged a quick look with Lucy before turning his attention to his father and brother-in-law.
“I’m sure Lucy must’ve told me you guys were coming over for dinner, but I completely forgot.” Ian unwound his scarf and hat, leaving them on the table by the door. Then he kicked off his boots and offered them all a bright smile. “I would’ve picked up some dessert or something.”
“Sophia took care of it,” Lucy told him, pausing to swat her hair out of her eyes. “Dinner will be ready soon. Can you and Stu set the table, please?”
“Why don’t Darren and I give you a hand in the kitchen? We can make the salad.” Sophia brushed past Ian and leaned over the counter. “It’s good to see you in the daylight, Dean. I was beginning to forget what you looked like.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, Aunty Soph, I’m not that bad.”
Sophia hopped onto the high chair and pulled the bowl toward her. “Yes, you are, but nothing compares to your teenage years when you looked like a vampire.”
Lucy’s lips twitched as she chopped the vegetables. “I’m pretty sure I half expected to find some weird stuff in his room.”
Dean’s face turned a bright red. “I should’ve gone out with my friends.”
Darren clapped Dean on the back on his way to the fridge. He emerged with an armful of tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers and took them over to where Sophia sat. “It’s a rite of passage now, kid. You have to endure whatever your mom and aunt throw your way.”
Dean tilted his head back and muttered something under his breath.
“Table isn’t going to set itself,” Stu said, pausing to squeeze Ian’s shoulders. “Come and spend some time with your old man.”
Ian spun on his heel and went into the dining room. There, he opened and closed several cupboards till he found a clean tablecloth and unfolded it. In silence, he and Stu unfolded the cloth, with Ian pausing to smooth out the wrinkles. Then Stu crouched low and took out a set of plates and cutlery.
It was the only sound filling the room for a while.
“I know you want to talk about it too, Dad,” Ian said without looking up. “Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Frankie just brought it up with me. I’m not putting my life on hold while I investigate Mom’s case.”
“I know you’re not,” Stu replied, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’ve always been good at multitasking and compartmentalizing.”
Ian continued to lay the cutlery out, the sound of laughter spilling from the kitchen. “So, you’re not going to lecture me about the amount of time I’m spending on this?”
Stu looked up and met Ian’s gaze. “Why would I? You’re not a child. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
“Okay, what’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.” Stu took a step back, and his eyes swept over the table. “I know how important this is to you and your sisters. I’m not going to tell you how to handle it.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened to Mom?”
Stu’s shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at a spot on one of the plates. “I made my peace with Kelly being gone a long time ago. Knowing how she died isn’t going to bring her back, and it’s not going to make me feel better.”
Ian’s stomach dipped. “Don’t you want answers though? How can you live without them?”
Stu held the plate up to the light and used the edge of his sweater to wipe it. “It’s not that I don’t want answers, Son. I’ve had a lot more time to make my peace with it, and I decided I need to be okay with things either way.”
“I don’t understand.”
Stu set the plate down and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. “I know you want answers, and I hope you can find them, but you need to make your peace with what happens if you do.”
“What do you mean? If Eric is involved, he’s going to pay.”
Stu studied his son’s face, a sad smile on the edge of his lips. “Yes, and then what? Let’s say there’s a trial, and you manage to find enough evidence to convict Eric. What happens then?”
“He goes to jail,” Ian said a little too loudly. He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “He answers for the crimes he’s committed. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s not, but it’s not going to make you feel better, and I just want you to be prepared for that.”
Ian stared at his dad, an unfamiliar swell of emotion rising within him.
Why wasn’t his dad happier about the investigation?
“Life doesn’t always give the answers we want or the neat little explanations we crave,” Stu continued in a softer voice. “You have to be able to make your peace with things either way, and you can’t forget about the things that matter while you do.”
“I’m not ignoring my family,” Ian snapped, a little harsher than he intended. “I appreciate the advice, Dad, but I’ve got this.”
Stu nodded. “I know you do. Just remember you’ve got a life waiting for you when this is all done. You’ve got a wife and kids and a detective’s exam you wanted to take.”
Ian glanced away and frowned. “I know.”
“Dinner’s ready.” Lucy’s voice drifted over to them, bringing them back to the present with a jolt.
Ian cast one last glance in his father’s direction before he stepped out of the dining room. In the kitchen, he helped carry several trays of food out, avoiding everyone else in the meantime.
During dinner, he avoided his father’s gaze and pushed his food around. At the end of the night, when everyone went home, Ian ended up on the back porch, staring out into the night with a headache in the back of his skull.
Was he supposed to let his mom’s case go?
How far was he willing to go in order to find the answers?