Now all Devon could do was pray that Bobby hadn’t gotten caught.
Apparently Larkin, too, was worried. He fidgeted with the hem of his tattered T shirt, staring into the darkness. “Maybe we oughta go look for him. “
Devon licked his lips. “Yeah, maybe. “
Behind them, the boiler kicked on, hissing and rattling. Neither boy paid attention. They were each concentrating on a different sound, a rhythmic thump echoing down the cinder block hallway. A light emerged from the blackness, feeling its way along the rusted pipes and stained concrete floor.
Larkin s voice was tight with relief. Geez, man, where ve you been? “
Roberto huffed into the room clutching a small paper bag. “I hid in the pantry and waited til everyone was gone. “
“Weren’t you afraid you’d get locked in? “
“Nah. ” Roberto laid down his flashlight and took his place at the edge of the circle. “I just crawled out through a window. ” Devon wiped his wet head and blew out a relieved breath. “So, did you get it or what? ” “Course I got it. ” Reaching into the bag, Roberto care fully withdraw an oatmeal cookie the size of a fat pancake. He grinned proudly. ” Neat, huh? ” Iarkin was unimpressed. “Aw hell, Bobby, you were supposed to get cupcakes. ” Roberto’s eyes flashed black fire. “All the good stuff went to the staff dining room. There wasn’t nothin’ left so I stole this from the cook’s lunch bag. You got a problem with that? ” Morosely eyeing the immense cookie, Larkin gave a resigned sigh. “It’s okay, I guess. Tommy wouldn’t care. ” Somewhat mollified, Roberto arranged the cookie on the flattened bag and scooted it into the center of the circle along with the cups, candle and can of soda. He glanced at the other boys. “It’s almost nine. “
“Yeah. I guess we’d better get started, ” Devon said.
The boys solemnly joined hands and lifted their entwined fists. “One heart, one spirit, one mind. To the Brotherhood. ” As they murmured the familiar chant, each gaze was fixed on the vacancy, an empty spot in the circle that duplicated the empty place in their hearts. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Devon lifted the candle, holding it out while Larkin dug a matchbook from his jeans. After two tries, the damp match flared and the candle flickered to life. Meanwhile, Roberto filled four cups with soda. He set one in front of each boy and one at Tommy’s place. With that chore completed, all eyes turned to Devon, who was studying the perplexing problem of affixing the candle to Tommy’s birthday confection. He finally resolved the situation by seating the candle in a pool of hot wax dribbled on the center of the cookie. Robertogrinned approvingly. “Cool. ” ‘ Larkin wiped his eyes and glumly watched the flickering flame. “Who’s gonna blow out the candle? ” Roberto’s grin faded as be looked anxiously to Devon. qq, hadn’t really thought about this part. Traditionally the birthday boy was supposed to blow out his own candle. Under the circumstances, of course, an alternate would have to be selected.
As the leader, Devon made the choire.”
“You do it, lark. You and Tommy were best friends. “
Larkin shook his head miserably. “I can’t. “
“We can all do it, ” Roberto suggested. “You know, count to three and stuff. ” That sounded fine to Devon. He turned to Larkin. “Is that okay with you? ” The blond head bobbed twice, then snapped up. Larkin’s eyes rounded like saucers. ” “Look!” He pointed a frantic finger toward the candle just as the flame pulsed to one side and went out.
Three gaping faces were riveted on the smoking wick.
After a moment, Devon cleared his throat. “Musta been a draft. ” ‘
“Yeah. ” Roberto stared, awe struck. “Musta been. “
Larkin was shaking like a windblown leaf. “It was Tommy. ” “Don’t be a dweeb, Lark. ” But Devon wasn’t as sure as he sounded. He angled a glance toward the empty space, at the circle. It still looked empty. Somehow, it didn’t feel empty. ” Well, the stupid candle is out, so let’s get on with it. ” ‘ “Yeah… okay. ” Roberto’s black eyes rolled from right to left, up and down again. “Who’s got a knife? “
“Knife? “
Iarkin and Devon stared at each other. Roberto moaned. “
“Great. Now what? “
Muttering under his breath, Devon reached out and broke the cookie into four pieces, setting the biggest piece-the one with the candle-in front of Tommy’s place. Then each boy lifted the cookie in one hand and the cup of cola in the other and offered a birthday toast to their absent friend. Slowly the rust-stained cinder block melted into varnish pine panels and Devon shook off the bittersweet memory. Blinking, he saw the waiter displaying a champagne bottle to Roberto, who nodded his approval. In a moment, the cork was deftly removed but before the waiter could fill the glasses, Roberto took the bottle, dismissing the man with quiet thanks. When they were alone, Roberto filled the four champagne glasses-an upgrade from soda agreed upon when they’d reached adulthood-then lifted a pink bakery box that had been tucked beneath his chair. After the giant oatmeal cookie was reverently removed and arranged on a plate, Larkin took a small candle from his coat pocket.
Devon reached out. “This is my job, remember? “
Larkin smiled and handed it over. The ritual continued with Devon using the pool of hot wax that formed around the burning wick to seat the candle firmly in the center of the cookie. Then all three men watched the flame, each lost in silent thought. After a moment, the flame flickered and-as always-it leaned to one side and disappeared. They’d stopped questioning the odd occurrence years ago. Instead, they simply used it as a signal that the time had arrived. The cookie was divided into quarters. Three glasses were raised. The fourth was placed in front of the vacant chair, beside the oatmeal wedge with the smoking candle. Once again, the Brotherhood was complete. “I’m feeling fine, Mom, better than ever ” Holding the cordless phone between her chin and shoulder, Jessica shook out a silky half-slip and awkwardly folded the garment while standing in front of her bedroom dresser.
Aysla Newcomb McKerry’s skepticism crackled through her throaty voice.
“You’re not overdoing, are you? You know what happens when you push yourself too hard. ” Jessica arranged the folded slip in her lingerie drawer and sat on the edge of her mattress. ” “I’ve had tons of energy this week, ” she insisted, telling herself that exaggeration wasn’t the same as a lie. there had been moments of exhaustion, of course, but overall she really had felt quite well. Better than well, actually At times, she’d felt positively radiant. The fact that such surges of emotional buoyancy occurred during her times with Devon were attributable, of course, to pure happenstance A fluke of nature.
Coincidence.
Sighing, she pulled a flannel nightie from the laundry basket. If she had an ounce of courage, she’d admit that coincidence had nothing to do with what she was feeling for her boss’s thrill-seeking son. She was obviously infatuated with the man. The realization was not a pleasant one. There was no room in her life for emotional involvement with anyone, least of all a man who was already married to his career. Her mother’s voice interrupted the mental sojourn. “It’s been months since we’ve seen you, dear. Frank and I are both looking forward to your visit. ” Jessica’s mouth went dry. Stuffing the sloppily wrapped nightgown into the drawer, she knuckled her fleecy scalp as her racing mind frantically sorted excuses. “I want to see you too, Mom, but I, uh, don’t know if I can make it this weekend. I’ve been so busy at work…” The lame words dissipated like so much steam. A hurt silence filtered over the line. Finally Aysla spoke quietly. “You mustn’t put it off again, Jessica. Frank has made all the arrangements. “I know. ” Covering her eyes, she flopped back on the mattress, feeling like a coward and a fool. It wasn’t the tests that she was afraid of. It was the results; or rather, the potential results. Periodic reevaluations were absolutely crucial to assure that the cancer hadn’t recurred. If microscopic cells were discovered early enough, aggressive therapy was her only chance to stop the silent spread of the disease. Intellectually , she knew that. Emotionally, however, she didn’t think she could face another round of the devastating treatment. A hot rush of tears burned beneath her lids, angering her. She sat up, roughly wiping her moist eyes. “I guess now that my hair is finally growing back, I just wanted to put off the inevitable. ” “Recurrence isn’t inevitable, ” Aysla said softly. “Frank studied your surgical records carefully. Sinre there was no lymph node involvement, there is every reason to believe that the tumor was localized and the prognosis for a good outcome is excellent. ” A good outcome was understated medical jargon to describe a live patient rather than a dead one. At one time, Jessica wouldn’t have considered simply being alive as a good outcome. Now she understood that to be the only result that mattered. Eight months ago, she’d thought of breast cancer as a horrible malady that struck other women, other families. Then during her morning shower, she’d felt a small lump. At first, she hadn’t been overly concerned, assuming the painless mass to be some kind of benign cyst. But it hadn’t been a cyst and it hadn’t been benign. The emotional devastation of that diagnosis had been nearly as traumatic as the physical ordeal that would follow. Jessica’s initial reaction had been one of denial, insisting that healthy, thirty-year-old women simply didn’t get breast cancer. With her stepfather’s medical connections, she’d obtained three concurring opinions and eventually ac THE accepted the sad fact that young women did indeed get breast cancer because she had it. Then she’d moved from denial into terror-the terror of dying-and had committed herself mentally and physically to winning the most important fight of her life. Surgery had been the first step, a lumpectomy that left one breast looking like a half-bitten apple. Still, she’d managed to swallow her vanity, thankful that there was no man in her life so she could focus on recovery without worrying about a lover’s reaction to her scars. Drawing on family support and her own grit, she’d endured weeks of grueling adjunctive treatment that had sapped her strength and caused her lovely blond hair to fall out in ragged clumps. It had been sheer hell but she’d got ‘ ten through it once; if she had to, she’d get through it again.
Mentally fortified, she sat up and shifted the phone to her left ear. “
“When have the tests been scheduled? “
“Friday. I know that’s the day after tomorrow-”
“Friday will be fine. Afterward, we’ll spend the weekend, ” together” “Oh, that would be wonderful! The guesthouse has been so empty without you” Her mother’s excitement served to exacerbate Jessica’s guilt at having neglected them. It hadn’t been deliberate. She loved her parents dearly and was deeply grateful for their staunch support. But since those traumatic postsurgical weeks had been spent at their Monterey home, return visits served as an embarrassing reminder of how helpless she’d been during that painful time. For a woman who valued independence over gold, being reduced to near-invalid status, even temporarily, had been nearly as difficult as dealing with her itself. “But you mustn’t fuss over me, all right? “
“Fussing is a mother’s prerogative, ” Aysla replied firmly.
“Besides, you’ll always be my baby. ” Jessica winced. “Prerogative or not, no fussing. Besides, it’s your turn to be pampered so I’ll take care of the cooking. ” ‘
“You know that’s not necessary, dear. I enjoy doing things for you. ” ‘
“You also enjoy breakfast in bed and this weekend that’s just what you’re going to have. And homemade lasagna for supper. ” Aysla’s melodic chuckle warmed Jessica to her toes. “Have I ever told you what a wonderful daughter you are? “
“Every day of my life, ” Jessica whispered. “And I love you for it. “
A comfortable silence extended between them. Jessica wiped her moist eyes, suspecting that her mother was doing the same. After a moment, Aysla sniffed audibly and cleared her throat. “So, your hair is growing back? ” “Umm. It’s a little over a half inch long now. ” Jessica absently touched the feathery fuzz. “In a couple of months there should be enough up there to do something… I’m not sure what. ” ‘
“You’d look lovely with one of those layered pixie cuts. “
Jessica chuckled. “Great. I’ve always wanted to look like Tinkerbell. ” “Nonsense, ” Aysla replied with a smile in her voice. “As soon as you’re ready, we’ll make an appointment with my stylist. He’s absolutely wonderful. ” “He’d have to be, ” Jessica murmured. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dresser mirror and decided she was beginning to resemble a blond eagle, which would have been upsetting had it not been such an improvement. At one point, her scalp had looked like a polished cue ball. The effect had been rather humorous, she supposed, although she hadn’t been particularly amused at the time. In fact she’d been so horrified that she’d immediately purchased the first wig she’d found that was halfway close to her natural hair color. By the time she realized that she hated the style, there’d been no way to gracefully reappear in a new one without acknowledging that she’d been wearing a wig. That, of course, would have led friends to question why. Since Jessica couldn’t bear to see pity in their eyes, she’d kept the hairpiece and chalked the fiasco up to experience. Even now the ugly thing taunted her from a foam head on the nightstand , where it hung like an unkempt pelt. Jessica gave it a hateful glance and returned her attention to her mother’s cheery voice. “… and we’ll spend the entire day at the salon, “Aysla was saying. “Pedicures, facials, the whole works. Won’t that be fun? “
“Yes, it’ll be great-” Jessica stiffened as the doorbell rang. “
“Jessica. is anything wrong? “
“Hmm? Oh. There’s someone at the door, that’s all”
“At this hour? ” “It’s probably someone from building maintenance. They’re famous for showing up at odd times. ” Standing, Jessica absently tweaked a short tuft at her temple. She glanced at the wig then decided that she didn’t give a fig what the maintenance man thought of her cropped hair. “Listen, Mom, I’d better go. I’ve been complaining about a clogged heating duct for almost a week, I don’t want them to put me back on the bottom of the list. “
“All right, dear. We’ll see you tomorrow. “