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Dr. Heller had begun the lecture, so I slipped into my seat, accepted Benji’s smile of hello, and gave myself credit for becoming a survivor. I had survived Kennedy’s decision to end our relationship. I had survived what Buck tried to do to me. Twice. And I would survive if Lucas wouldn’t—or couldn’t—trust me with his personal demons.
***
The trees had transitioned from leafy to bare without me noticing. The shift was always a quick thing here—never a lengthy, multihued transformation like it was further north. Even still, I’d been too preoccupied to observe the alteration as it occurred. It seemed like one day the trees were thick and green, and the next, the leaves had vanished altogether, except in small, dead piles trapped in terraced corners and caught under border hedges.
The occasional warm days were gone as well. Lucas and I hunched into our coats, and my scarf was wound around my neck twice and encroaching on my face. I exhaled into it and savored the warmth that lasted about two seconds.
Lucas pulled his beanie lower. “Do you want me to come with you this afternoon? I can get someone to cover my shift at Starbucks.”
I turned my head to look at him, but my scarf didn’t turn with me. “No. Mindi’s parents are here. They’re going to make sure everything’s taken care of for both of us. They even offered to get me a hotel room—they’re keeping Mindi there with them for the next week, and then taking her directly back home after finals. Her dad’s moving her stuff out of her dorm tonight. Erin says they may withdraw her permanently.”
He frowned. “I guess it wouldn’t do any good to point out that this could have happened anywhere.”
I shook my head. “Maybe once they get over the shock of it. But Mindi might not want to come back here, even if that’s true.”
“Understandable,” he mumbled, staring straight ahead as we walked.
We were silent until we got to the small building where my Spanish class was located. “I wish I could skip again today, but we have oral presentations that count as part of the final.”
He smiled, reaching out to loosen a stubborn strand of hair that clung to my lip. I couldn’t get it with my gloved fingers. His index finger was faintly gray, and I guessed that he’d been sketching in class today. “I’d like to see you, before you go home. Outside of Saturday’s class, I mean.” His finger trailed my jaw, dipping into the pool of scarf and tucking beneath my chin.
I felt my stomach drop to my feet. I’d become familiar with non-verbal farewells recently, and goodbye was in his eyes. I wasn’t ready to see it. “I have a solo performance for a final grade tonight, a mandatory recital to attend on Friday, and my ensemble is performing Saturday. But I can come over tomorrow night, if you want.”
He nodded, staring into my eyes, looking like he might kiss me. “I want.” Students still hustled to their classes all around us. I wasn’t late to class yet, this time. He pulled my scarf back into place over my chin and smiled. “You look like a partial mummy. Like someone was interrupted while winding you into your shroud.”
A full smile from Lucas was so rare. Used to his ghost smile, dark scowls and intense stares, I was so stunned that my breath faltered. And then I smiled back, and even if he couldn’t quite see my mouth I knew the crinkles around my eyes replicated those around his, the darker blue of my eyes connecting with the his gray-blue. “Maybe I did a hammer-fist strike and bloodied his nose before he could do all that gruesome mummy stuff to me.”
He laughed softly, holding the warm smile in place, and I leaned toward him like a flower to sunlight.
“You are fond of that hammer-fist strike.”
“Maybe not as fond as Erin is of all things groin strike related.”
He laughed again and leaned to kiss my forehead, letting me go swiftly and glancing around. His smile faded, and I thought I’d probably be willing to do almost anything to bring it back. “Text me when you’re done this afternoon?”
I nodded. “I will.”
***
I wasn’t sure what I would find when I googled Lucas’s name Wednesday night. I hoped for an obituary that would give me a starting point, which I found. Like many obits, the one for Rosemary Lucas Maxfield didn’t give a clue to how she died. No “in lieu of flowers please send a donation to” with the name of some awful young-mother-killing illness at the end. I googled her name, expecting nothing—but multiple articles popped up, all dated eight years ago. The titles knocked the breath from me. I chose one and clicked—my heart thumping so hard I could feel the individual beats—while I wished these commentaries were about someone else’s mother. Someone I didn’t know.
TWO DEAD IN MURDER-SUICIDE
Authorities have confirmed the horrific details of a murder-suicide that took place during an apparent home invasion in the early hours of the morning on Tuesday. Police say that Darren W. Smith, a local handyman, broke into the home of Raymond and Rosemary Maxfield through a back window around 4 a.m. Tuesday morning. Dr. Maxfield was away on business. After restraining her son in his room, Smith raped Rosemary Maxfield repeatedly before slashing her throat. Cause of death was massive blood loss from multiple sharp force injuries. Smith then fatally shot himself. Weapons found at the scene included a seven-inch hunting knife and a 9 mm pistol.
Smith was one of a group of contractors working on the Maxfield home earlier this summer. There appears to have been no other connection between Smith and the Maxfields, despite surveillance-type photos of the family found yesterday by investigators at Smith’s home. Police believe that Smith was aware of Dr. Maxfield’s absence from home.
Unable to get in touch with his wife or son by Tuesday evening, Raymond Maxfield requested that family friends Charles and Cindy Heller check on them. At approximately 7 p.m., the couple discovered Rosemary Maxfield in her bedroom, covered in blood, with Smith near her, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. The minor child was taken to County Hospital and treated for dehydration, shock, and minor injuries relating to the restraints, but was otherwise unharmed.
Heller made a short statement earlier this evening, requesting that the press and the community allow Maxfield and his son privacy to process the shocking manner in which they lost their 38-year-old wife and mother. “I was in the army. Special Forces. I’ve seen some atrocious stuff. But this was the worst thing I’ve ever come across, and I’ll always regret taking my wife with me that night,” Heller said. The Hellers and Maxfields have been close friends for sixteen years. “Rose was an adoring wife and mother, a loving and wonderful friend. She’ll be terribly missed.”
