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I silently holstered my pistol and stepped forward quickly. I used my left hand to block the knife from the girl’s throat, then I put Montez in an arm bar. I misjudged it slightly and felt the knife bite into my hand, slicing my palm as I wrenched him away from the girl.
Lori yanked the girl to safety.
Now it was just this asshole and me. I looked to see where the knife had landed and was shocked to see it was still stuck in my hand. Holy shit.
That was it. I threw a right cross and watched as Montez stumbled back. Then I jerked the four-inch blade from my hand. Before he regained his footing, my right knee connected with Montez’s head. He was on the floor, and I fell on top of him. A two-hundred-pound sledgehammer. Then I just started to throw elbows and fists into his face. Blood splattered everywhere. Some his, some mine. I needed this. Therapy. What the hell—I was only human.
Then I heard someone shout, “Mike!” I felt a strong hand on my wrist. My sergeant pulled me away.
I looked down at what I had done. Shocked as anyone. I could’ve ended this with a single punch. I had lost it.
My sergeant said, “Jesus, Mike. We got him.”
I looked past my raw, bloodied hands at the pulp of this punk’s face. This wasn’t how I operated. I was embarrassed. Ashamed.
My sergeant said, “Stand down, Mike. In fact, after you have that hand taken care of, go home. Stay there. I’ll handle this. You’ve got enough problems to deal with at home.”
Unfortunately, Sarge was right.
Chapter 2
I fumbled with the pancake batter because of the stitches in my hand. The Bennett household kitchen wasn’t small, but this morning it felt like I was on top of Mary Catherine as we whipped up enough to feed all ten kids. Wait a minute. Nine kids.
Somehow the eight-room apartment on the Upper West Side seemed empty, even with eleven people in it. The quiet was unsettling. It’d been like this for days.
Mary Catherine laid her head on my shoulder as a show of support, but all it did was remind me how bad things could get. Once I had two plates ready for serving, I forced a smile. I burst out of the kitchen and said, “Who’s the hungriest?”
Usually this would elicit a battle between kids going after the first of the food. Today I got no response. None. Then Trent and Eddie motioned me over like hipsters trying to be cool in a trendy restaurant.
After I set the plates down, I winked at Chrissy and pinched her nose. I would have given anything to have one of her smiles at the moment. She tried, God help her. She showed her teeth, but it wasn’t the usual breathtaking spectacle of a little girl’s sincere show of happiness.
I shuffled back into the kitchen to return to work. That was the only way to stay sane for the moment.
Mary Catherine had more plates ready, but I just stood there like I had forgotten my job. Like I had lost my purpose.
I looked at Mary Catherine’s blond hair as strands tumbled onto her shoulder. She had told me she learned to focus by helping her mom feed three brothers and two younger sisters. She was made for this. I still remembered our first awkward meeting, when she showed up after corresponding with my late wife, Maeve. She came directly from Dublin and just stared at me as I informed her we had ten kids. Ten. But she never faltered. Even in the face of my grandfather Seamus, who thought I brought her in to replace him. It didn’t take long for the lovely young Irish girl to win over my surly grandfather.
That was all in my darkest time. Maeve was in the last days of her fight with cancer, and I was lost. Somehow I had survived.
Now I was trying to figure out how to face dark times again.
Chapter 3
The kids made their usual assembly line to clean up the breakfast plates, with Juliana and Jane acting as supervisors. Those two had CEO written all over them. I could hardly believe my little girls were such beautiful young women who didn’t shy away from responsibility. If you added Mary Catherine to the mix, you could say that women had kept me alive and functioning for many years.
Mary Catherine worked on getting the youngest kids’ backpacks and lunches together. It was seamless. And I stood in the corner, almost useless. Mary Catherine looked up and winked at me. How had this lass from Ireland gone from the kids’ nanny to my love in a few short years? My heart broke a little bit when I thought about what the family had to deal with now, but this was not the time to give up or abandon my job as a father.
I clapped my hands together and said, “Okay, gang. I’m going to bring the bus around front. Three minutes, and the Bennetts renew their assault on civilization.”
That got a smile from Bridget. That was enough for me.
The short ride to the kids’ school, Holy Name, was silent at first. Everyone sat like zombies in the twelve-passenger Ford Super Duty van. It had years on it, but not that many miles. I remember the look on the car salesman’s face when I proved I could fill the van with just my own kids. It was a stretch financially then. Now it was a necessity. A fact of our daily life.
The kids were seated with the youngest in the back, as always. Poor Chrissy and Shawna would never move up until someone went to college. Just thinking about that and the fact that college was not in Brian’s future right now made me want to cry.
Eddie said, “When will Brian come home?”
Ah, my Einstein always knew which question was most important. I took a moment to form my answer and said, “Well, buddy, I just don’t know.” Real helpful, Dad.
