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“We can’t make more?”
I held up the empty packet of semolina and shook it, laughing when Ellen glanced over to Bruce. There was no mistaking the pleading look in her eye. He made a big show of protesting but got up from the table, winking at me before heading out to the store for more semolina. “And eggs!” Ellen called out to his departing back as he opened the front door.
With nothing to do for a few minutes, I grabbed my glass of wine and took a wander around the kitchen, ending up at the little dining table. The wall behind the table was covered with family photos: baby pictures, first day of school pictures, then high school, then university graduation pictures with Lucy and Claire. Elissa at Machu Picchu. Matt when he completed his apprenticeship. Matt, Gabe, Jake and a dark-haired young man I didn’t recognize on a fishing boat with Bruce. There was so much family pride, love and connection on one wall that it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Ellen came to stand next to me. “He was such a cute kid.”
I smiled. “He looks it.”
“It goes by so fast, you know. One day, you’re bringing them home from hospital, the next they’re bringing—” she cut herself off. I looked at her enquiringly. “The next day they’re moving out and moving on.” I knew that wasn’t what she had been about to say.
“Or moving back in,” Lucy said with an eye roll. It wasn’t long before Bruce returned. “I’ll show you some more pictures later, if you like.”
“Yes, please!” I replied, moving to the island to get started on the next round of pasta.
An hour later, sitting at the dining table again, a dozen photo albums piled around me, I sat with Ellen and Lucy poring over childhood pictures of Matt. My heart skipped when I heard his truck pull up and heard him open the front door, then he was standing in the doorway, gazing around the kitchen in bemusement. Pasta of every different shape hung from plastic-wrapped broomsticks, garden rakes, lengths of dowel, all balanced precariously on cupboards, stools and chairs. Trays of semolina-sprinkled penne and farfalle covered the counter that lined the back wall. Bruce, standing at the counter chopping mushrooms, grinned, tapped a finger to the side of his nose and said sagely, “Semolina.”
“I see.” His eyes found mine, giving me a fluttery feeling in my belly, then he saw what we were doing. “Oh, Jesus.” He went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, passed one to his father and slid into the seat next to me, pressing a kiss to my temple as he lay his arm along the back of my chair. He gestured to the open album in front of me, showing a picture of him and Lucy in their underwear, around four and five years old, covered head to toe in mud. He looked at Lucy. “I really don’t like you.”
She grinned, uncowed. “You love me.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I like you. Especially not right now.” He pulled an album from the pile. “How about something where I’m a little more dressed, at least?”
I took the album from him and, opening it, saw he’d skipped ahead to his teenage years. There were photographs of him playing baseball, Lucy with a thin, pale guy in the snow, Elissa and Claire trekking along a high mountain track. “Oh, who’s this?”
Lucy leaned over, looking at a photo of Matt, Gabe, Jake and the same guy from the fishing picture, all sprawled around the Cooper’s living room floor, watching a baseball game on tv. “That’s Dante Moretti.” Giving a low whistle, she said, “Man, I forgot how hot he was. Wonder what he’s up to these days?”
“I have no idea, so there’s no use looking at me like that,” Matt answered her unspoken question. “I haven’t seen him since the accident.”
I was about to ask him what accident he was talking about when a particular photo caught my attention. Emma and Jake, curled up together on a couch, his arm around her shoulders while he pressed a kiss to her temple and she smiled directly at the camera, her eyes shining. “Emma and Jake used to go out?”
“Yeah,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Until the accident.”
“Okay, that’s twice. What accident?”
Lucy sighed as she turned the page of the album, showing a picture of Jake, Emma and Dante sitting on the hood of a dark blue Ford Mercury. “Jake and Dante used to be thick as thieves, but they were wild. Lots of teenage rage to burn, which, to be fair, I think they both earned. From what I remember of Dante and know about Jake, they were both dealt pretty shitty hands in the dad department. So yeah, the three of them—Jake, Emma and Dante—hung out a lot. Until one night, Jake was driving that car.” She pointed to the Mercury. “He and Dante were coming back from a drinking session up near Fogarty’s Point, he was way over the limit, speeding, ran off the road and straight into a tree. Emma was coming from the other direction so she was the first on the scene. Dante walked away without a scratch so he and Emma stayed with Jake until the paramedics arrived.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the image of the three carefree young teenagers, picturing the horror of the accident, wondering how long after that photograph was taken that it happened.
“And then?”
Lucy shook her head. “We don’t know. Emma and Jake broke up while he was still in hospital, and Dante disappeared.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Everyone looked at Bruce in surprise.
“Well, no one knows where he went, so I’d call that disappearing, wouldn’t you?” Lucy replied, confused.
“He joined the Airforce.”
“He what?”
“As soon as he knew Jake was going to pull through, he came to see me, said he didn’t want to live here anymore, that he’d nearly cost his friend his life, but he didn’t know what to do.” Taking a swig of his beer and throwing the chopped mushrooms in a pan on the stove, he said, “So I drove him to Seymour Kingsley.”
“The Airforce base?” There was no hiding the shocked surprise in Lucy’s voice.
Bruce nodded in answer. “I’d seen a recruitment ad in the paper a few days before and actually thought it would be perfect for him, wild as he was. Straighten him out a bit.”
“What happened to him after that?” I asked, utterly fascinated.
