A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) (18 page)

“Stop,” Abby said, seeing the expression on my face. “There was nothing we could do. It’s just one of those things.”

“And he’s okay,” Ellie said. “He was wailing like a banshee all the way down the hall. Strong lungs with the temper of a Maddox. He’s golden.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to take him home?” she asked, suddenly hopeful.

I patted her hand. “Probably not. Not right away, anyway. But let’s wait for an update from the NICU before we get too upset.”

“You mean before I get too upset,” she said.

I raised her hand to my lips and closed my eyes. The guilt was almost too much to bear. I was glad Dad had stepped in when he did with Trenton because I was desperate to go back to the days when I could punch my way out of things. Nineteen seemed like a lifetime ago, and quite frankly, adulting blowed. It was so much easier to lose my shit and start swinging rather than to listen to Trenton being an insecure dick stick and having to be the bigger person when all I was trying to do was save his life.

“Baby,” Abby said, watching as my inner turmoil began to seep out.

“Trenton found out about the FBI,” Ellie said. “And that Cami already knew. He’s taking it pretty hard.”

Abby looked at me. “He’s taking it out on you.”

“Who else is he going to take it out on?” I grumbled.

Abby’s fingers intertwined in mine. “Just a little longer.”

I nodded, knowing we couldn’t say any more in front of Ellie and Falyn.

Abby recounted the moments of her labor and delivery, and they all cried again when she detailed watching the nurses wheel Carter out of the room. The sisters hugged, and then Ellie and Falyn returned to the hall outside the waiting room to check on their families.

Abby sighed, resting her head back against her pillow.

“Want me to lay the bed flat?” I asked.

She shook her head, wincing and pressing gently on her abdomen. “You should try to sleep. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“You mean today?”

Abby looked up at the clock on the wall. “Liis will land in a few hours. The nurse said the recliner lays nearly flat.”

I stood up and nodded, walking around the hospital bed to the mauve recliner nearby. The nurse had already set a couple of folded blankets and a pillow in a stack on the seat. The recliner made a scraping sound against the floor as I pushed it closer to her bed. I sat down and shook out a blanket, pulled the lever, and leaned back.

Abby used the remote to turn out the lights, and for a few precious moments, it was quiet. Just as I felt myself drift off, the door opened, and I could hear the nurse swishing around the room. She turned on the dim overhead lamp just above Abby’s bed.

“Hi there, Mrs. Maddox. I thought you might want to try pumping.” She lifted a small machine with tubes and what looked like a mini air horn.

Abby looked horrified. “Why?”

“Carter isn’t going to be strong enough to suckle just yet, so we’ll have to feed him through a tube. We have a special preemie formula, but if you prefer, your milk is best. Is that something you’d like to try?”

“I …” she trailed off, looking at the pump. It was completely foreign to her. She’d breast-fed our twins, but she stayed at home, so she’d never used a pump. “I’m not even sure if I have anything to pump.”

“You’d be surprised,” the nurse said. “His stomach is smaller than a marble, so he won’t need much.”

“And it’s okay with the antibiotics?” she asked, holding up her hand. I was so proud of her. Even exhausted, Abby thought to ask questions that wouldn’t even cross my mind.

“Completely safe,” the nurse said.

“Oookay,” Abby said. She listened as the nurse gave her instructions. When we were alone again, she looked at the tubes and container with contempt.

I sat up. “Want me to help?”

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“I can just—”

“No, Travis. If I’m going to have to sit here with this thing on me like a milk cow, you’re not going to help. You’re not going to watch.”

“Baby, it’s not a bad thing. You’re doing it for our son.”

“It just feels very … personal.”

“Okay,” I said, leaving the pile of blankets behind in the recliner. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll come back in fifteen. Need anything before I leave?”

“Nope.”

“Good luck, Pidge.”

Abby used the mini air horn as a thumbs-up, and I chuckled, willing to do anything to have a light moment in all of this. I closed the curtain and then the door behind me, and returned to the hall in front of the waiting room where my family was. Camille was sitting alone on a bench.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“The nurse brought cots. They’re all sleeping in the waiting room except for Dad.”

“Where’s he?”

Camille nodded her head toward a birthing suite, and immediately, I heard the familiar Jim Maddox snore. He would breathe in through his nose, and then his cheeks would fill with air before it finally pushed through his lips.

“He talked them into giving him a room?”

“He was afraid his snoring would wake the kids. He insisted on having his cot out here, but the nurses caught wind of it, and you know ... Everyone loves Jim.”

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t think Trent wants my company.”

I sat down next to her. “Cami … you know he loves you. It’s a lot to process all at once.”

“I know,” she said, wringing her hands. “The thing with Thomas and me … It’s been festering just beneath the surface all these years. I knew it would come out eventually, and I knew he’d be angry. I just didn’t expect to feel this much guilt.”

“Because you don’t want to see him hurting.”

“No, I don’t.”

I looked down at the ground. “No one’s going to escape it this time.”

“Have you heard from Liis? Any updates?”

“No,” I said. It was the truth. I didn’t need any updates. I knew exactly what was going to happen.

“They said she was flying in. Isn’t that weird she would do that? While Thomas is recovering?”

“She has a new baby, and …” I trailed off. I didn’t want to lie anymore, and the worst was still ahead.

Camille grew quiet. “He didn’t make it, did he? She wants to tell us in person.” When I didn’t answer, Camille stared at me until I faced her. “Tell me, Travis. Is he dead?”

“You want to keep more secrets from Trenton? What if he finds out you knew something about Tommy before him? Again?”

“Just tell me,” she said. “I deserve to know.”

“More than anyone else?”

“Trav. I’ve been protecting his secret for him for years.”

“And look where it got you.”

Camille thought about my words and sat back. She closed her eyes, appearing pained. “You’re right.”

I stood up, leaving Camille alone with her quiet tears. As I walked away, I was surprised to feel even heavier than before. That would have been one less person I would’ve had to destroy. I froze in the hallway, in front of Abby’s door, realizing we would have to tell the kids.
My
kids. I would have to look them straight in the eye and tell them their uncle was dead.

I closed my eyes, wondering how I could ever explain why they couldn’t lie later in life. How could they ever trust me after that? I pushed open the door just as Abby was screwing the lid on the milk container.

“How did it go?” I asked.

She paused. “What’s wrong?”

“The kids,” I said.

She jerked up. “What about the kids?”

I sighed. “Fuck. No, I’m sorry. They’re fine.” I sat next to her, gathering the pump and tubing in one hand, the container in the other. I kissed her forehead. “They’re fine. It just hit me that we’re going to have to tell the kids about Thomas.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “They’ll be heartbroken.”

“And then … later …”

Abby covered her eyes, and I hugged her. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“They’ll never trust us again.”

“Maybe they’ll understand.”

Her eyes filled with tears for the dozenth time that morning. “Not for a long time.”

The nurse knocked on the door, her short blond hair bouncing. “Good morning,” she whispered.

“I couldn’t get much,” Abby said as I handed the nurse the equipment and container.

The nurse held it up and narrowed her eyes then smiled. “It’ll do. He’ll be a happy boy.”

“Can we see him?” Abby asked.

“Yes,” the nurse said, pointing at her. “Right after you get some rest.”

“We’ve been trying,” I said.

“Not a problem. I’ll make a note. Do not disturb.”

“Unless,” Abby began.

“Unless something comes up. Yes, ma’am.” The nurse closed the door behind her, and I settled back into the recliner.

Abby turned off the light above her, and except for the sunrise peeking through the edges of the blinds, it was dark. The birds were chirping, and I wondered if I would ever sleep again.

“I love you,” Abby whispered from her bed.

I wanted to crawl into her bed with her, but the IV made that precarious. “I love you more, Pigeon.”

She sighed, the bed crinkling as she settled in.

I closed my eyes, listening to Abby’s breathing, the IV pump, and the obnoxious bird happily singing outside. Somehow, I slipped beneath the waves of consciousness, dreaming that I was lying next to Abby for the first time in my college apartment, wondering how in the hell I was going to keep her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SHEPLEY

A
MERICA HELD MY HAND
, pulling me through Abby’s hospital room doorway. It smelled like bleach and flowers, exactly why I was glad America had our last two boys at home. Hospitals gave me the heebie-jeebies, pretty much just holding bad memories for me. Mercy Hospital was the setting for the times I remembered going with my parents to see Diane, when I broke my arm, when Trenton got into that bad car accident with Mackenzie and again with Camille. The only good memories I have of Mercy Hospital were when Ezra and then Travis and Abby’s twins were born.

“Hi,” Abby said with a smile, embracing America when she bent over for a hug.

“You look so good!” America said, repeating the phrase every postpartum mom wants to hear.

Abby beamed. “They’re taking me to see him soon.”

“Good,” America said, sitting next to her. She held her friend’s hand. “That’s good.”

There was an elephant in the room. The four of us had been close since the first night Abby came to my apartment with Travis. It wasn’t like them to keep things from us. At least, that’s what I’d thought. America and I had several conversations about how the FBI seemed to have forgotten about Travis’s involvement with the fire, how the questions and the suspicion stopped. And then the weird moment the morning after Travis and Abby’s wedding in St. Thomas when he was so upset he couldn’t speak. That was it. That was when it happened. Thomas had given him an ultimatum.

America fell quiet. The America I fell in love with would have raked Abby over the coals for being dishonest, but my wife and mother of three tyrants was wiser and slower to anger. She listened more and reacted less. Their friendship had lasted on the basis of full disclosure. How else could they love each other no matter what? But now we were in a time of our lives when we had to put our spouses first. Marriage made friendship—even old ones—complicated.

“Mare,” Abby began. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” America said. Now that the conversation had started, she wasn’t going to let her off too easy.

“About Travis. I just found out myself a few years ago.”

“When did you stop trusting me?” America asked, trying not to sound hurt.

“It’s not about that. He wasn’t cheating or fighting a drug addiction, Mare. He was undercover for the FBI. He was running with the mob, fighting at first, and then shaking down Vegas strip clubs and making threats. I couldn’t call you about it or text. We couldn’t whisper about it like gossip next to the pool while watching the kids play. Travis was being watched. Why would I tell you?”

“So you didn’t have to carry it alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Abby said. She looked at Travis with a small smile.

“That morning in St. Thomas?” I asked. “That was when you were recruited?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Travis said.

I rubbed the back of my head, my thoughts spinning. How had Travis kept this secret all these years? When he was traveling for the gym, and then when he took over Thomas’s job, it was always the FBI. That explained how they bought a house based on his personal trainer wages, but I still couldn’t believe they’d kept it from us.

“So why Thomas?” I asked. “Why did Thomas keep it a secret?”

Travis shrugged. “Mom. She made Dad promise to quit his job as a detective, and that we wouldn’t follow in his footsteps. But Thomas was born to do this job.” He spoke of Thomas with reverence, and I believed him, even though I still didn’t understand the lies.

“Jim would have understood, Trav. Surely, there’s another reason.”

Travis shrugged. “That’s the only reason he’s ever given me. He didn’t want to disappoint Dad. He didn’t want Dad to tell him not to pursue a career he was passionate about.”

America watched Travis speak, her eyes narrowing. She picked up on something I didn’t. “So Thomas knew that you were about to be arrested and talked someone in the Bureau into offering you a job because of your connections with Mick and Benny? Why not Abby?”

Abby chuckled. “Travis was capable of doing things for Benny I wasn’t. And Travis would have never agreed to that.” America nodded, but she still wasn’t satisfied. Something wasn’t adding up. They were still hiding something. “So now Thomas …” America trailed off. She did that with the boys a lot, hoping they would fill in the blanks.

Travis cleared his throat. “Was targeted, yes.”

“And that cut on your head?” I asked.

He traded glances with his wife. “I was, too. That’s why the agents came to Dad’s. That’s why they’re here. That’s why we have to stay together.”

“You automatically assumed they’d be after the rest of the family because they went after you and Thomas?” America asked.

“They weren’t after Travis,” Abby said. “He was in my car. They were after the kids and me.”