I studied the bruises around his face. Finally, I said, “What do you want to do?”
“I want to be a cop.” His voice had some power in it now.
“Why?”
“I want to make a difference. To help people.”
I nodded. “Those are the right reasons to be a cop. Most people have never felt the desire to work in our profession, which makes that feeling, that drive, impossible to understand. Police work has been such an important part of my life, but I realized something as I got older.”
“What?”
“There are other important things in life. There are other ways to help people. You need to decide where to dedicate your talents.”
“What I want to do is come back to work. Do you think I’d be able to come back to our squad?” He sounded like a kid asking permission to go out on a Saturday night.
I smiled. “I guarantee you’d be welcomed back as a star.”
For the first time since I’d arrived, he looked hopeful.
This man had earned the right to be called my partner.
Chapter 99
Mary Catherine had the best idea for working it all out, just as she always did.
My late wife, Maeve, had been the one to introduce us, in a way. Maeve had been the one who’d hired Mary Catherine, sight unseen, from Ireland. Mary Catherine had shown up on my doorstep just when I needed her. I knew this was no coincidence. Maeve had planned out a happy life for me even while she was dying of cancer. Maeve had done it all. That was the way she was. Unselfish.
And so was Mary Catherine. She could read the strain on my face, about Hollis, about Ott, about everything except my family.
“You need a good bike ride,” she said, ordering me to change. Shawna and Chrissy spoke up, then Eddie, Trent, and Jane. Five of ten kids wanted to come with us.
Mary Catherine said, “Anyone who can keep up is welcome to come along.”
I knew that was the kind of challenge she and I would both regret.
We started out slowly—after I first had to pump up a couple of tires in the basement, and everyone had to find and put on their approved bike helmets—carefully working our way toward the bike paths in Riverside Park.
Once we got in the park, Shawna turned and grinned. She said, “Mary Catherine, you can come with us.” She paused for best possible dramatic effect, then added, “If you can keep up.”
That’s how I remember the massive bike race starting. I pedaled until I thought my legs would drop off. My lungs burned and my vision might have blurred a little bit. And I still could not catch my fiancée. No one could. She had the form and grace of a professional cyclist.
I could say the race lasted for days and people died from exhaustion. But that wouldn’t do it justice. The way Mary Catherine rode down those young people and then raced ahead of all of us, she was putting on a show.
She had a competitive streak and had somehow effectively hidden it from us until now. Or maybe we had just refused to see it. The kids would never look at her quite the same way again. Neither would I.
By the time I caught up to her near a water fountain that we used as a meeting point, she was sitting on a park bench with her helmet off like she’d been waiting for us for hours. All I could do was laugh—once I could breathe again, that is.
The kids stared at Mary Catherine like she had jumped off the pages of a Marvel comic book.
I sat down next to her as the kids got water and greeted a couple of their friends who had been playing in the park.
I said, “I like to see you smile after slapping down the kids and me.”
“That was fun,” she agreed. “But it’s not why I’m smiling so much.”
“Oh, yeah? Why are you smiling so much, then?”
“Our wedding is only a few days away. This Saturday, you’ll be my husband.”
I reached over and took her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her. She kissed me back. It almost made me forget we were in public. That is, until the kids crowded around us.
Trent said, “Why don’t you guys get a room?”
Jane said, “Did I act that way around Allan?”
Trent and Eddie nodded at the same time.
All Jane could say was “Ouch. I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”
Then we all folded into a laughing, hugging ball of crazy New Yorkers.
Chapter 100
On our way home, I said a silent prayer, thanking God for the wonderful life I had. And for my bright, healthy kids and my smart, beautiful fiancée. I was in a particularly grateful mood.
Then came Fiona and her seventh-grade math homework. It never got any easier, no matter how many times I helped each of the kids in succession.
Fiona hadn’t put out a general call for assistance. Only her dad’s help would do, and I couldn’t ignore it. But holy cow. I’d been pretty good at math in school. The same school that Fiona went to now. How could I look at this page and not understand a single instruction?
After about fifteen minutes of reading the problems and searching through her book for an example I understood, I had to look at Fiona and say, “We need more help. Ask Eddie.”
From my seat at the dining room table, I called to Mary Catherine in the kitchen. Her reply was short and to the point. “I can’t spare Eddie. You’re the one with a college degree.”
I said, “A degree in philosophy doesn’t prepare you for seventh-grade math.”
“Does it prepare you for anything?”
“‘I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing,’” I quoted. “Socrates.”
Mary Catherine said, “You were already proving your point. You didn’t have to back it up with a quote.”
Brian casually strolled over to the dining room table. He looked at the book and checked some information on an earlier page. Then he explained to Fiona how to do the problems. Correctly. Amazing.
When Brian was finished, Fiona looked at me and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
“What’d I do?”
Fiona smiled. “You adopted a smart kid like Brian.”
I let out a laugh. “I guess that was a good move.”
Brian’s smile compounded my good mood. If things are going well with the kids, nothing else really matters.
Mary Catherine called out a good-bye. She was taking the girls for a dress fitting that would last a few hours. The younger boys were all in their rooms, working on some school project. That left just Brian and me.
He was in the living room, reading a Men’s Health magazine. I flopped down on the other end of the couch where he was sitting.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
He grunted. It wasn’t hostile or disrespectful. Just efficient. Then he said, “How’s it going with you?”
“Honestly,” I told him, “I don’t really know. I’m just glad to be home.”
I decided I needed an answer to the question that had been bothering Mary Catherine and me for so long. I turned to my oldest son and said, “Where do you go all day?”
Brian closed the magazine and gave me a weak smile.
I said, “You can tell me, off the record if you want.” After an uncomfortable silence, I added, “I know about the bank withdrawals. I’m not trying to be nosy. I want the best for you. I’m here to help. Any way I can.” I hoped my voice wasn’t betraying the fear and desperation I was feeling. I really couldn’t imagine what Brian might say right now. And suddenly it occurred to me that it could be worse than anything I could dream of.