Black Wings Read online

  “You hated my mother,” Tommy said.

  “I’m sorry for you,” Marian told him gently.

  Silence.

  “Thanks.”

  “I can be there,” she said. “Briella has a planned home study day tomorrow, so—”

  “No,” Tommy cut in.

  Marian hesitated. “You don’t want her there?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  She waited for him to make an excuse or apology about how it wouldn’t be good for the kid, which honestly, Marian herself wasn’t sure about but would have been willing to concede to for his sake.

  “She’s old enough to know about death,” she said at last.

  Tommy’s derisive snort sounded very much like his daughter’s. “Oh, I’m well aware that she knows all about death. I remember what she said to my mother.”

  “Tommy.…” Marian sighed and pressed her fingertips between her eyes. There wasn’t much she could say other than, “I’m sorry.”

  “You can be there, if you want. But don’t bring the kid. It would be…too much.”

  “All right. And if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” she said.

  Tommy huffed into the phone. “Thanks, Mare.”

  Dean had been sleeping when she’d gone into the bathroom. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, blinking sleepily. The grin he gave her was pure light. He gestured for her to come closer.

  “Hey, baby. And baby,” he added, bending to push her shirt up so he could kiss her bare, slightly bumped-out belly.

  “Tommy’s mother died.” Marian ran her hands through the brush of Dean’s hair.

  He looked up at her. “We knew that was coming. Still sad.”

  “Funeral’s tomorrow.” She paused. “He specifically asked that Briella not come.”

  Dean yawned so widely she could see his back teeth. Scrubbed at his face. “Damn. That might be for the better, right? A funeral’s not the time to be dealing with weird family dynamics. It would be stressful enough, for Tommy and for the kid, too.”

  “Yes. I know. It just felt…wrong,” she said. “It makes me feel bad for her. Her own father. I mean, yeah, for years he’s not been around, but this definitely felt…bad.”

  “She told you herself she didn’t want to go around his mother anymore anyway, and she hasn’t wanted to spend any time with him, either. I think it’ll be fine, babe.” He tugged her down to his mouth for a kiss, interrupted by another broad, jaw-cracking yawn. “Damn it, I just can’t seem to wake up.”

  “You’re doing too much. Working too many hours,” she told him firmly.

  Dean shook his head. “Nah. Not doing too much. It’s not the amount of hours, baby, it’s the schedule. Having a hard time getting enough sleep. That’s all. I’ll power through. They’re still talking about letting me switch to the day shift, if I agree to keep taking the extra hours.”

  “You haven’t told them you’re banking the time to take off when the baby’s born, have you?”

  “Uh.…” Dean laughed self-consciously.

  Marian knuckled his arm. “Dean.”

  “I think it’s in my best interest not to reveal that as the plan,” he told her. “They’ll cut my overtime back, they definitely won’t switch me to days, and I’d go so far as to say that they might even try to find a way to dock my vacation hours. But if they do that, the money I’m getting now means I can take unpaid leave, if I have to.”

  Marian had, as Tommy said, hated his mother, but she’d still been fighting sympathetic tears since the phone call. Now, she burst into sobs. Braying, snot-filled sobs that had Dean pulling her down to rock her against him.

  “Hey, hey,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “What’s going on?”

  She couldn’t find words at first. Just another series of sloppy sobs. Dean let her cry.

  “You’re working all the time. You’re hardly ever here, and when you are, you’re asleep,” she managed finally. “You’re exhausted, and I’m exhausted and I’m pregnant and I just…I miss you. I miss you, baby. I miss you at night, I miss you during the mornings when you used to get home earlier.”

  “It’s temporary,” he told her.

  Marian nodded, wiping at her face with disgust. “I know. And I know you’re doing it for us. I’m being selfish.”

  “You’re allowed.” Dean put his palm flat on her belly.

  “I love you. God, so much.” They leaned together, saying nothing, letting the rhythm of their hearts sync. She rested her head on his shoulder. His breath caressed her face.

  “Are you going to the funeral?” he asked her.

  Marian sighed. “I don’t know. It’s no secret that I thought his mother was an awful person. But you don’t go to a funeral for the person who died. You go to support and show love for the people left behind.”

  Dean squeezed her shoulder. “Right.”

  “But I don’t love him any more, Dean. I mean, I did. A long, long time ago. But I haven’t in a long time. So…I don’t know. Do I go? If I do go, what do I tell Briella?”

  “Do you have to tell her anything?”

  Marian shifted to look at him. “Yeah. I do. She needs to know that her grandmother died, first of all, and I’m pretty sure Tommy isn’t going to tell her. Also, she doesn’t have school tomorrow, so if I’m going to the funeral, she can’t stay by herself.”

  “And I’ll be at work,” Dean said.

  “She can go to stay with my dad. I’m not worried about that part. But I do have to tell her.” Marian sighed. “What do I say if she asks to go?”

  “That’s a tough one. I don’t know.”

  As it turned out, Marian didn’t need to worry. She broke the news of Tommy’s mother’s death to Briella, who accepted it calmly and without question. She’d been accepting everything calmly and without question for the past few weeks, ever since her teachers at Parkhaven had forced her to put aside the Blackangel project to focus on something else.

  It had made life at home much quieter, although Marian had often found herself watching the girl too closely, waiting for an outburst of temper that hadn’t yet come. She searched Briella’s room for evidence that she was continuing to work on the project at home, but found nothing. And of Onyx? Marian could find no evidence that Briella was letting the bird in through her window at night. It still did come around the house in the afternoons to be fed, but it no longer left behind any gifts.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Marian had always been prone to laughter at inappropriate times. Listening to the mourners wax poetic about Tommy’s mother was sending her into a fit of giggles, and choking them back was upsetting her stomach. She was barely out of the first trimester, still suffering from occasional morning sickness that could hit at any hour of the day. Somehow, she thought that bursting into guffaws would be worse than puking all over the pew.

  At the graveside service she stood toward the back, both in case she had to make a hasty exit and also because although she was there for Tommy’s sake, she had no desire to be pushed into the public role of mourner. Stifling laughter in the church had been hard enough. If someone stated to her face how sorry they were for her loss, she wasn’t going to be able to hold it together.

  The weather was nice, at least. March had come in like a lamb, that was for sure. The grass was still brown beneath her sensible flats, but it was soft and the sun was shining. Marian let herself enjoy the promise of spring. If it felt a little disrespectful to do that, well…it was much better than pissing on the old bitch’s grave.

  After, Tommy hugged her for a long time. “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem.” Marian patted his back. Over his shoulder, she spied a flash of dark shadow darting among the tombstones. A flutter of wings.

  When she pulled away from him to stare, though, there was nothing. If the bird had come to