“Detective Lennon?” Dr. Patel spoke. A young Indian woman walked inside the room. “I was told you were here. I was hoping you’d stop by.”
Maverick picked up Camille’s hand. They hit her because of him. Because he never let up. He never stopped. They went after her and the team. The bullet should have been his.
“I’m sorry. Ms. Blanco's family left three hours ago.”
Her hand felt cold in his. He held it with both his hands and tried to keep it warm. He didn’t look away from her. He didn’t look at the doctor.
“Ah, there’s no change. She has no brain activity. I'm sorry, but she’s surviving off of the ventilator. We’ve run every test we could. There is no other choice here. Her family signed the order. Tomorrow at two we will turn off the machines. They asked for privacy. I thought you should know.”
Maverick eyes began to water. His bottom lip quivered, so he sucked it in. With his back to the doctor as he faced Camille’s bed, he tried to keep his grief locked inside. Since Melissa’s death, he’d mastered the trick. He blinked, and the tears were gone. His bottom lip stopped quivering. The grief was absorbed into him, like everything else.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Patel said.
“Yea. Me too. Sorry.”
NOVEMBER 2019
“Turn the engine over. Try it again,” Maverick said.
“Gotcha!” Oliver replied. Oliver was in his eighties but looked as young and virile as any sixty-five-year-old man. He hopped back in the Chevy and started the engine again. The truck roared to life. “Well, I’ll be damn it’s running! It’s running, son!”
“Yeah, a new carburetor will do that for it,” Maverick smirked and slammed the hood of the truck down. Oliver got out of the truck with a wide grin. Maverick’s ‘Fix/It’ Shop was on the edge of Madison County. He’d been there for just under a year in Cazenovia, and he was already the most trusted mechanic within a hundred miles. “Good job, good job,” Oliver shook his hand. “This is a miracle. The damn truck hasn’t run-in two years.”
“It’ll purr like a kitten for you now. Come inside, and I’ll write up the invoice.”
The two men started toward his office door at the garage when they heard the sound of another car arriving. Maverick glanced back. The car was far more expensive than anything the 7000 residents of Madison County drove. And newer.
“Go on inside, Oliver, and wait for me.”
“Who’s that fella?” Oliver asked.
“Not sure. I’ll handle it,” Maverick said. Oliver patted him on the arm as a show of support and went inside. Maverick wiped his oil stood hands on his workman’s romper, and headed to the Aston Martin. “Can I help you, friend?”
A tall man in dark sunglasses got out of the car. Maverick recognized him immediately. He was a famous movie star. He believed his name was Armand Al Jabaar. They weren’t too far from New York for celebrities to come and stay in the reclusive sanctity of Cazenovia.
“Maverick Lennon?” Armand smiled.
“That’s me,” he replied.
“Hi, I’m Armand,” Armand extended his hand, and Maverick shook it.
“Can we talk?” Armand asked.
“Your car?” Maverick nodded toward it.
“No,” Armand laughed. “It’s a rental. I drove in from New York.”
“What is it you want to talk about?” Maverick asked.
“Paternity,” Armand smirked.
“What?”
“Turns out today is your lucky day Mr. Lennon. You’re a father.”
Chapter Two
GOODBYE GOOD HUSBAND
Falcon Cove, June 2018
Delilah watched the green ball. It bounced up and returned down in triangular formation. The beep that followed would become an echo in her memory forever. It was the life song of his heart—a testament to their love. Once up, then down, then up again, now down again. Never ordinary, never straight forward, always a rhythm of controlled repetition between him and her. His name is Charles Montgomery. Charles is the sixth son of Abigail, and Heathcliff Montgomery Jr., The last born child and chosen prodigy of his grandfather Heathcliff Sr. The most influential black men in all of Colorado were the Montgomery men. And Charles, her husband, remained the only man she ever trusted her heart to. He lay on the bed, silent and still. If it weren’t for the beep and machines around him, she could convince herself he was asleep.
“Oh, you’re still here?” Abigail Montgomery entered the room with her eldest son Tyson Montgomery, a re-elected Senator for the state. Delilah wasn’t aware he’d returned to Falcon Cove. Mother Abigail seems to relish the glimpse of surprise on Delilah’s face. She was a short, petite woman who looked ten years younger than her age, thanks to her wealth and an excellent surgeon. Her timeless beauty reminded Delilah of Dominique Deveraux, the fictional character from the old show Dynasty portrayed by Diahann Carroll. Her visit often came in the late evening when they believed Delilah would have left to get back to her motherly responsibilities. Not that day. Delilah waited for this visit. She planned for this visit. She only wished Queen had arrived before Abigail, but she was prepared to handle her mother-in-law on her own if necessary.
Delilah returned to Charles’s bed. There were times when he was awake and lucid. This wasn’t one of them.
“Tyson, dear?” Mother Abigail spoke.
“Yes, mother?” replied her son.
“Why don’t you go check in with the doctor to see if there is any new news on your brother today?” Mother Abigail suggested.
“There isn’t,” Delilah said without taking her eyes off her husband. She stroked his hand. After a silent prayer, there was hope that he wouldn’t wake enough to witness what she was about to do. If he did, she’d need more than God’s forgiveness because she knew how much he loved his mother.
“I rather my son get the information himself, thank you,” Mother Abigail snipped.
Delilah pulled at the sheets and tucked in the corner to make sure it was secure. Charles looked handsome. He wore the navy pajama set she bought him the past Christmas. Noah was so excited. He chewed on the wrapping paper as they opened their gifts. Charles hated the pajamas but decided to wear them because it always seems to make their baby boy smile. She leaned in and placed a kiss on his forehead.
“Who is watching my grandchild?” Mother Abigail asked.
“You mean my son? The one you haven’t seen since Charles was hospitalized?”
“You’ve banned me from the ranch and from his life,” Mother Abigail reminded her. She glared at her mother-in-law. If Delilah took the bait, she’d be drawn into an unwinnable argument. But today, she had the time.
“I banned you from seeing my baby after that hateful interview you did with the press,” said Delilah.
“My comments were taken out of context,” Mother Abigail waved her hand to brush off the accusation. “Eagle Creek is our family ranch. And has been for generations. The ranch belongs to the Montgomery’s. Trust me, sweetheart, we will have it again, I can assure you.” Mother Abigail walked to the foot of her son’s bed. Delilah stood her ground. She knew Mother Abigail was far from done with her little speech. “I only said in the interview what everyone in this town is thinking about my sweet grandbaby.”