Chapter 11
Summer pulled her wet hair back into a bun and snatched her phone off the bathroom countertop, quickly jotting down a list of the fifty million things she’d thought of in the shower that she needed to do today. Call TJ’s boss. Text Danica to let her know that she couldn’t teach a final week after all. Check on Mama. Find TJ’s will. Go to the courthouse.
And before all of that: convince Benjamin to go home.
She didn’t want to, not really. But he’d already done more than enough. And he had his own life to get back to. A life in which she likely wouldn’t see him very often, since he would no longer come over to hang out with TJ.
The thought nearly made her fall apart again. But she couldn’t afford to. She had things to do. And a nephew to take care of. On her own.
She marched herself out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where Benjamin was pouring syrup over a mile-high stack of pancakes on Max’s plate.
“Hey.” Benjamin looked up with a gentle smile, although the new seriousness she’d noticed in his eyes last night lingered. “Come have a seat.”
She shook her head, but her feet pulled her to the table anyway. Even though she’d been sure she could never eat again, her stomach rumbled eagerly.
Benjamin set a plate stacked as high as Max’s in front of her, then added one for himself before taking a seat on the far side of the table. They’d left the spot where TJ usually sat open.
“We should pray,” Benjamin murmured.
Max’s hands were already folded. “It’s my turn,” the boy announced, and Summer nodded. For the past few months, Max and TJ had been taking turns to say the breakfast prayer. They’d invited Summer to join them as well, but she preferred to listen silently.
“Dear Jesus.” Max’s little boy voice sounded as trusting and confident as always. “Thank you for pancakes. And thank you for letting Daddy hang out with you in heaven.”
Summer sucked in a breath as the tears darted through her closed eyelids.
“Could you please tell him that I miss him and I hope he has a good time there and he’s not lonely without me? Amen.”
Summer swiped at her cheeks before she opened her eyes.
“That was a good prayer, Maxerooni.” Benjamin’s voice was as thick as Summer’s throat felt.
The three of them ate silently, and Summer felt as if she were betraying her brother by enjoying the food.
When Max finished eating, Benjamin wiped the boy’s hands and face with a wet cloth, then led him into the living room to turn on a movie.
By the time he came back, Summer had finished too and was clearing the table.
“Hopefully that will keep him occupied while we look for a will,” he said quietly.
Summer shook her head. “I have some calls to make first. You should get going. I’m sure you have things—”
“Summer.” Benjamin took the plate from her hand and set it on the counter. “Listen to me. I said I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not. You go make your calls, and I’ll start looking for a will. Where do you think it would be?”
Summer shook her head, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. “He has a small filing cabinet in his bedroom where he keeps important papers.”
“Then I’ll start there.” Benjamin nodded, and she appreciated that he didn’t correct her use of present tense verbs. She couldn’t bear the thought of talking about her brother in the past tense.
She led him to TJ’s bedroom. The bed was rumpled, the covers shoved aside as if her brother had slept in it last night. Summer knew that was because he never made his bed, but still the image drew her up short, as if he was going to come walking out of his closet and smile and say it had all been a big, stupid prank that he and Benjamin had played on her.
But the closet door remained closed. “It feels like he should be sleeping right here.” Benjamin echoed her thoughts.
She nodded silently, something inside her easing to know that he felt the same way.
She pointed out the filing cabinet, then retreated to her own room to make the necessary calls.
By the time she was done, she wanted to collapse into her bed and never come out again. Even though everyone she’d spoken with was sympathetic—she was pretty sure TJ’s boss had been crying—explaining what had happened over and over again had taken all of her energy and then some. Every time she said that TJ was dead felt more unreal than the last, until Summer had almost convinced herself that she had fallen asleep, and this was all one terrible dream.
But when she returned to TJ’s room to help Benjamin search for a will, his grim expression said it was all too real. If she were dreaming, he would be smiling.
“You didn’t find one?” she asked.
Benjamin shook his head. “No, but I found these.” His voice was hard, almost angry, and he held out a stack of papers.
Summer took them slowly, afraid to look at whatever it was that had the power to make the always-smiling Benjamin Calvano sound like that. “What is it?”
“Credit card bills.” Benjamin’s voice hadn’t lost its hardness, and Summer glanced at him in surprise. It wasn’t a crime to use a credit card.
“Look at the amounts,” he prompted.
Summer obeyed, and she couldn’t stifle a gasp. “He owes six thousand on this one.” She flipped a page. “And four thousand.” She hesitated before flipping another page, but Benjamin nodded for her to do it. “Eight thousand.” She was going to be sick. “What could he have . . .” But she already knew. She’d thought he was better. Thought he’d stopped when Max was born.
Her eyes went to the itemized list of charges. More than half had words like Play or Bet in their names.
“He was gambling.” The hardness still clung to Benjamin’s words, and Summer bristled, but all she could do was nod.
“You knew?” he asked.
“Not this time, no.”
Benjamin stared at her. “This time.”
“It’s an addiction,” she defended her brother, careful not to add that it ran in the family, though she imagined he’d heard the rumors about Mama. “He thought he beat it, but I guess . . . I’m sure he was trying to take care of Max and me,” she finished lamely.
Benjamin made a sound that could have been disagreement or even disgust, and Summer realized yet again that her family was worlds apart from his perfect one.
“Where else can we look for a will?” Benjamin asked, and Summer was grateful that he’d let the matter drop. What difference did TJ’s gambling make now anyway?
“What about the closet?” He stepped around her and pulled open the door. “Oh, man.” He breathed out heavily, and Summer turned to see him staring at her brother’s collection of superhero t-shirts. Summer had made fun of her brother a million times for them—but the truth was, she’d always thought them fitting since he had been her superhero.
Benjamin reached for a Superman shirt and held it up, then shook his head. “How is he never going to wear this again?”
Summer shook her head too, her own grief tempered at seeing his. Her hand went to his shoulder before she could stop it.
Benjamin turned to her with a wry smile. “Sorry. This isn’t helping, is it?”
“It is,” she whispered. “It makes me feel less alone.”
“You’re not alone.” Benjamin pulled her into a sudden, fierce hug. She clutched at him for a moment, longing to sink her head into his shoulder and let him tell her everything would be okay. But she couldn’t do that.
Because she was alone. Sure, Benjamin was here now. But as soon as all of this was settled, as soon as TJ was buried, Benjamin would be gone. He’d be back out there dating other women and living his own life. As he should be.
She pulled away brusquely. “You check the top shelf, and I’ll check these boxes.” She gestured to a couple of plastic bins on the floor.
The small space was so cramped that it was hard not to run into each other as they worked, but fortunately it took only a few minutes to dig through every inch of the closet. Again they came up empty-handed.
“What about a bank?” Benjamin asked. “Maybe a safe deposit box?”
“He doesn’t have one,” she answered confidently, but then added, “That I know of,” as she remembered the pile of credit card debt she hadn’t known about.
“I’ll call the bank and ask.” Benjamin left the room, and Summer moved to TJ’s bed, carefully pulling the covers up so that it was neat and tidy—and so unlike her brother that it only made her heart ache harder. She sat on the edge of it and massaged her fingers into her temples. How could all of this be happening? And how was she ever going to find her way through it without TJ to lean on?
Her phone blared, and she frowned at the unfamiliar number. But then, she’d had to face a lot of unfamiliar things today.
“Hello?” She put the phone on speaker so she wouldn’t have to go through the effort of lifting it to her ear.
“Miss Ellis?” A crisp but not unfriendly woman’s voice filled the room. “I’m Kimberly Parish, the Fuller County medical examiner. First, let me say how sorry I am for your loss.”
“Oh.” Summer gripped the comforter she had just pulled up so neatly.
The woman hesitated, and Summer realized she probably should have said thank you, but the words caught in her throat. Was this woman going to be able to give her some answers about her brother’s death? And did she want them?
“I have completed the autopsy on TJ Ellis,” Kimberly finally went on. Though her tone was gentle, it seemed to bore a hole right through Summer’s heart. She clutched at her chest, trying to remember how to breathe.
“The results are inconclusive,” the medical examiner went on. “He appears to have died of heart failure, but—”
“I don’t understand,” Summer interrupted. “He was healthy. He ran miles every day. He . . .” She petered off. It wasn’t as if any of these things could change the facts.
“I’m sorry.” The woman seemed unruffled by Summer’s protests. “I can’t tell you more than that at the moment. The underlying causes are unclear from the physical examination. It’s possible he had an undiagnosed condition. Which is actually why I’m calling. I wanted to speak to you about a new pilot program that involves genetic testing in the case of sudden death in people under the age of forty. This can help us gain a better understanding of underlying causes, genetic variants, undiagnosed conditions, and such. Is this something you’d be interested in?”
“I— Um—” Summer tried to get her mind to catch up with all of those words, but her brain felt like one giant mass of fog. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll send the authorization form over. You can sign that and send it back to me, and we’ll take care of everything else from our end. You should get a preliminary report from us based on the physical autopsy within a few days and then the results of the genetic testing in a couple of months. I’m so sorry again for your loss.”
This time, Summer managed to murmur, “Thank you.” She sat staring at her phone after the line went dead.
“Summer?” Benjamin’s voice startled her. “Are you okay?” But the moment he asked, he shook his head. “Sorry. Dumb question.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head too. “That was the medical examiner’s office. They said it was his heart, but they don’t know why. They have to do some testing. I have to sign a form.” At least that was what she thought she’d gotten from the conversation.
“Okay.” He let out a heavy breath. “There’s no safe deposit box.”
Summer nodded. She had figured as much.
She forced herself to stand, but Benjamin blocked her path out of the room. She didn’t dare try to squeeze past him for fear he might try to hug her again—and that this time she wouldn’t let go.
“I need to go check on Mama,” she said instead, hoping he’d take the hint that she needed to leave the room. “And then get to the courthouse.” The one-hour drive to the county seat in Brampton suddenly felt as daunting as a trip to the moon.
“You’re exhausted.” Benjamin didn’t budge. “I’ll drive.”
“You don’t have a car seat for Max in your car. And anyway, you should really—”
“Don’t tell me to go home again.” Benjamin’s command was close to a growl. “I’m coming with you. We can either take the car seat out of yours and put it in mine, or I can drive your car. Your choice.”
“You can drive mine,” she answered meekly. “Even Max wouldn’t fit into the back seat of your car.”
She waited for Benjamin’s retort that his little car was perfect, but it didn’t come. Instead, he only nodded—and that was enough to remind her that everything was different now.