Page 17 of Scarred Trust

When Sorcha came out, removing her apron and putting it aside on a chair, everyone applauded her for the great food that she had cooked for them. I pulled out the chair for Cate, and her dad gave me a little nod. It seems ridiculous that I was so pleased to have his approval, if only for a little chivalry.

Conversation at the table was lively. Some of them were talking about customers from lunch that found Duffy’s on the fourth of July. I heard mention of blockbuster movie releases, activities for the weekend, and gossip about the waterfront construction.

“How’s your mom? I haven’t seen Jackie since the celebration. She was such an enormous help.” Cate’s mom, Siobhan, turned the conversation to me. “She has a way of convincing people. I would hesitate to be on the other end of her sales pitch. I think I’d buy everything on the table.”

“She has that way about her. She had a lot of fun hanging out at the tent. I really appreciate you including her and making her feel so welcome.” My mom has kept herself busy, but I suspected that she hadn’t been having a lot of fun until that day when she jokingly complained about her face hurting from laughing so much.

“Of course. That’s the way the pub has always been. Everyone’s family.” Brendan said, with his arm around the bartender, Nick’s shoulders.

“It’s great that you actually practice that. Few people do these days, and sometimes it’s hard to believe that that actually exists.” It was bittersweet to think that my Dad would have liked this family.

“Maybe your mom can come next week.” It was like Cate could read my mind. I squeezed her leg, not able to form the words to thank her.

Chapter 11

I HAD MET WES’S MOM, Jackie, a few times, but always with a lot of other people around, like the fourth of July celebration or Sunday Dinner. This meant I hadn’t been her sole focus.

Wes and I took the train and then walked a few short blocks to a neighborhood of single-family homes that weren’t too far from where my parents lived. It was quieter over here than it was by the pub. The trains were further away. Without all the tourists going to the attractions by the water, you could almost pretend that you were in the suburbs. The St. James home was a cute house that looked like it was all brick, with full bushes and trees in a small yard.

At the juncture of the driveway and a stone path to the front door, I stopped to focus on breathing. I was beyond nervous for the ‘official’ parent meeting. I must have changed my clothes four times and my hairstyle at least six. Had I made the right choices? Would she consider me good enough for her surviving son?

The idea that if I spiraled I’d make an even worse impression made me panic more. Wes put his arms around me, held me tight, cheek to cheek, as we looked across the yard at nothing in particular.

“You’re beautiful inside and out, just the way you are. She won’t be able to help loving you just like I... I mean she knows you’re important to me.” I didn’t know how he always seemed to know the right things to say.

“You’re here!” The front door opened, revealing a petite woman with smooth, dark brown skin. Jaqueline St. James was the epitome of understated elegance, from her simple kitten heels to her salt and pepper braids wound into a half updo. Her simple slacks and blouse effortlessly flowed with her confident stride toward us.

She had some jewelry on, but it wasn’t flashy. It was understated and complemented her features. She could have fit in anywhere. The way she carried herself exuded confidence. She wasn’t what I had expected after hearing what she had gone through in the past year, losing her husband and almost both sons. There had to be a grit that could help her meet those challenges and still be able to smile genuinely and welcome a guest into her home.

The thought of that made me want to know her all the better. I wondered how much of Wes’s personality he had inherited from his mother or if the core of who he was came from the nurturing of this woman with such strength and fortitude. Either way, she raised this kind man, who was determined to bring the truth to light in the world.

She greeted Wes with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then did the same with me. She smelled like a rare, expensive perfume, full of exotic flowers and spices that all blended and somehow became an exceptional scent that was entirely her own.

“Let’s get inside.” She led the way through the front door into their foyer. The space was clean and spacious, but I could see signs of years gone by. There was a coat rack on the wall where I could imagine Wes and his brother dropping their coats, backpacks, and athletic gear. “Wes, why don’t you show Cate around while I finish getting dinner together? No going to the basement yet.”

“No problem, mama.” Wes laughed as he put his arm around me and guided me to the stairs.

“Why doesn't she want us to go to the basement? Is she afraid we're going to make out?”

“I'm pretty sure she is counting on us to make out wherever we go. She doesn't want us to go to the basement because she's afraid we won't make it to dinner once we start talking about the case.”

“Oh, the wall. I can't wait to see it. We have to wait until after dinner?”

“I'm afraid so, my Trina. But there is plenty to do. I get to show you my childhood bedroom.” We walked down the hall. He pointed out where his parents' bedroom was and the other things of interest, including the family pictures and the boys' school photos on the hallway wall. We got to a blue door with a sign that said "Do not enter.’

“Welcome to a little slice of my history.” He opened it, backing in with a flourish of his arm.

“Everything's so neat and tidy. I didn't expect that. How long did you and your brother live in this room?”

“He got a place right after college, and then I moved in with him when I went to college. We lived together even when we worked in the fire department together.

“So you were there when you had your accident.”

“Yep, and I was still in the hospital when my father and brother died. Mama told me that some friends of hers cleared out the apartment for her. Originally they put it all up here, but there are too many memories of my brother, so I moved downstairs.”

“Why did you bring me up here?”

Because hidden in the depths of this room are memories of you too.”