Damaged (20 page)

Patrick nodded yes, and Mary knew they were about to carry Edward out, so she patted Patrick's back, trying to soothe him.

Officer Agabe-Diaz smiled. “Patrick, what's your favorite show? Tell me about your favorite TV show.
Modern Family? The Big Bang?
”

“The History Channel.” Patrick craned his neck, trying to peek past Officer Agabe-Diaz. “What are they doing? Did they wake up my Pops? I made the soup. I have to go tell him.”

“No, you stay right here. They're taking very good care of your grandfather.”

“Patrick, it's okay.” Mary hugged him closer.

“No, no! He needs
me
!” Patrick let go of Mary, shoved past Officer Agabe-Diaz, and bolted out of the kitchen. Officer Agabe-Diaz went after him, and so did Mary.

“Patrick!” Mary called to him, but Officer Agabe-Diaz reached him first, then everything seemed to happen at once:

The mortuary assistants bumped the gurney against the doorjamb, jostling the black vinyl body bag. The uniformed officers rushed to help them as Patrick came running toward the stretcher, bursting into tears. Officer Agabe-Diaz scooped Patrick up just before he got there, then turned and handed him screaming and crying to Mary, who hugged him as tightly as she could, almost falling onto the couch with him, so he would have a soft place to land as Officer Agabe-Diaz hustled the other police officers, the mortuary assistants, and the gurney out of the house and slammed the door closed behind them.

“Pops, Pops, Pops!” Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs, blasting Mary's eardrums, but she held him tightly, trying to soothe him, telling him it would be okay and holding him on the couch, making him stay so that he didn't run back to the door and pull it open.

She couldn't hear anything outside over his screaming, but she could see headlights flash outside the window, so she knew the police cruisers were starting their engines and the mortuary assistants were loading the gurney inside the black van. Mary prayed that if she could just hold Patrick on the couch and hug him through the worst thing that had ever happened to him, then he would finally cry himself into a heartbroken sleep.

Which was exactly what happened.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Mary waited until Patrick had fallen asleep, extricated herself quietly, and stood up. Mary had a lot to do. Patrick had to be taken care of now that Edward was gone, and DHS would be here in the morning. She had to pack Patrick's things and find Edward's will.

She went upstairs, glancing down the hall at Edward's bedroom, which stood ajar. It was so hard to believe that he was gone, just like that, but Mary knew that was how death struck. She had lost her husband Mike, just like that. Death was such a coward, offering no warning. Striking by ambush. Just like that.

Mary went to Patrick's room and looked under the bed for a suitcase, but there wasn't one. She checked the closet but there wasn't one there, either. Edward had to have one, so she went back down the hallway to his room, noting that the room smelled even more unpleasant. She stripped the bed quickly, balled up the sheets, and went back down the hallway until she found the laundry room, tossed the sheets inside, and got them going.

She went back to Edward's room and looked under his bed, but there was no suitcase. She crossed to his closet, and at the bottom was an old tan suitcase with no rollers. She pulled it out and was leaving the room when she stopped at the photographs of Edward, Suzanne, and Patrick on the dresser. Mary packed them for Patrick and on the way out of the bedroom, stopped at the night table. She picked up Edward's wallet and slid out the credit cards and ATM cards, so they could be canceled, then flipped through, seeing the only thing that remained were wallet-sized school pictures of Patrick, a high-school graduation photo of Suzanne, and Edward's faded wedding photo. There were only a few dollars in the billfold so she left it. She picked up Edward's watch, phone, and rosary then cleaned up, tossing the Ambien and diabetes paraphernalia in the wastebasket.

Quickly she went to Patrick's room and packed his clothes from the dresser and closet, which took no time because he had so little. She even had room for his drawings and art supplies in the zipper flaps, and when she was finished, she set the suitcase by the bedroom door.

Mary took a last look around the room, checking to see that she hadn't missed anything, but she hadn't. Her gaze returned to the suitcase, and it struck her as somehow sad that everything that Patrick owned could fit into a single suitcase. She thought back to her own childhood and reflected that that never would have been possible.

Mary found herself sinking onto Patrick's bed, thinking back to her own childhood. The DiNunzios didn't have much money either, but Mary had so many things—books, records, stuffed animals, toys, scrapbooks, clothes, earrings, drugstore makeup. She had so many prized possessions—a stuffed bunny named Pinky, an “autograph dog” shaped like a dachshund, signed by all of her friends, and a brag book she had made with her friends, with all of their pictures inside.

She'd realized then that she had so much stuff because her life was so full, and she'd been given so much by her parents and by her friends. She owed everything she had become in life to that head start, which she'd been given by the sheer grace of God.

Mary looked again at the suitcase and realized that in her haste to perform all of the tasks necessary to take care of Patrick, she had lost sight of the little boy, himself. She had been avoiding thinking about placing him in foster care, but the suitcase made that reality visible. And when she projected forward and imagined herself handing Patrick a suitcase and telling him good-bye, she couldn't conceive of that happening. Somewhere along the line, Patrick had become much more than a case to her, and she couldn't deny that she cared about him.

Mary felt her eyes moisten, but blinked them clear. She looked at the suitcase without really seeing it anymore. She felt herself going inward and listening to her own heart. She was so close to changing Patrick's future and she had to make sure that her plans came to fruition. She couldn't do that if she were going to hand him off to foster care because she couldn't be sure that he'd get the support he'd need at a foster home.

Mary knew from her clients that parents of dyslexic kids had to put in hours and hours at home, drilling them, but deep inside, she knew it wasn't about dyslexia at all. She wanted to make sure that Patrick got the same head start that she'd had and she couldn't let him go to foster care. She couldn't turn a blind eye to what she read in the papers about the broken foster care system.

She couldn't imagine Patrick being shuttled from house to house, and she doubted that any of them could offer him what she could. The whole idea behind the foster system was to get children permanently adopted, and Mary knew she could fulfill that function far better, improving Patrick's prospects for permanent adoption. She knew she would never sleep at night, worrying that he wasn't getting the help, attention, and even love that he needed. Mary realized that she simply couldn't let Patrick go, not yet. She made a decision. She was going to step up for him and become his guardian.

Mary straightened up, confirming in her mind that her decision was sound. Even if it were temporary guardianship, only until Patrick could be permanently adopted, then she would feel better. If she had him for a year or two, she could get him through the rough patch of his new school as well as his grieving Edward. She could help him improve to reading at grade level and help him with his anxiety, ease the transition, all of which would make him a better candidate for permanent adoption.

The more Mary thought about it, the more she liked the idea. She had plenty of money and she could find the time. She was a partner now and she could arrange her own schedule. She could turn down referrals that came her way and she could work from home. She could make it work, if she had to. She took one last look at the suitcase and realized that she had to. She was going to try to become Patrick's temporary guardian.

But there was only one problem. Anthony. She was to be getting married in two weeks and she had to talk to him, to see if he agreed. She got her phone and called him, but the call rang a few times, then went to voicemail. She hung up and tried again, pressing
REDIAL
. She listened to the call ring and ring, then it went to voicemail, too.

Mary tried one last time and left a message: “Honey, I know it's late but it's important. I need to talk to you. Please call me as soon as you can. Love you.” She hung up, then scrolled to the text function and texted him:
know it's late but need to talk. please call me ASAP xoxox

She thought about calling Judy to talk it over, but decided against it. Mary knew what she wanted to do and she knew how she felt. Her decision was made. She was about to change her life, and Patrick's.

Mary was about to become a temporary guardian.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mary still had to find Edward's will, so she went into his office, which was small, well-organized, and neat, containing only a white bookshelf filled with old accounting journals, a gray file cabinet, and a computer workstation that held an old IBM desktop with a thick monitor. A keyboard and a wired mouse rested on top of a large desk calendar, which she remembered Patrick telling her about.

Mary crossed to the desk, nudged the mouse over, and scanned Edward's shaky notations for yesterday, written in ink:

9.2 hours sleep (up early for lawyer)

sunny, 82

blood sugar 125

two egg whites, wheat toast, butter

blood sugar 115

sandwich in car

parking lot in Center City $25/2 hrs (RIP OFF!!)

tip $2

legal fee (will be invoiced)($300 per hour!)(No retainer!)

blood sugar 117

dinner—chicken soup, peas, Tater Tots

vanilla ice cream (Good!)

Mary realized she was looking at the last day of Edward's life, but she pressed the thought to the back of her mind. She wanted to find his will, and most people who had wills knew to leave them someplace easy to find. She went to the file cabinet, and the first drawer was labeled
Bills.

She confirmed it by opening the drawer, and inside was a rack of Pendaflex file folders, one for each of Edward's bills, labeled in his shaky hand, starting with
AAA (American Automobile Association)
. After the bills was a divider that read
Patrick,
so Mary thumbed through those folders to find Patrick's old report cards and artwork. She remembered that Patrick had said something about Edward saving his artwork, and this must have been what he meant. She didn't have time to look through it now, so she took it out of the drawer and set it aside to go through later.

She went to the second drawer, labeled
Documents
, and hit paydirt. The first folder was the deed to the house and the second was the will. She slid out a thick booklet with a cover that read:
Last Will and Testament of Edward F. O'Brien
. Underneath that was the attorney's name,
James R. Geltz, Esq
., with an office address nearby.

Mary read Edward's will, which named Geltz as the executor, so she would have to notify him of Edward's death, as soon as possible. She read on to find that Edward hadn't named a godparent or guardian for Patrick, which was what she had expected since no one else was in the picture. Patrick was Edward's sole beneficiary, and Edward had bequeathed him the house, a life insurance policy for $50,000, a 2009 Ford Fiesta, Edward's bank accounts at PNC Bank, and investments in a brokerage account at Cornerstone Financial. The will didn't specify the balances in any of those accounts.

Mary turned to the appendices and found PNC Bank and Cornerstone statements from the time the will was executed, four years ago. Edward had $1,092 in checking, $9,927 in savings in the bank and $201,928 in stocks and bonds at Cornerstone Financial. There was another appendix that showed a market value of the house at $71,000. Mary ballparked the estate value at $330,000, including the life insurance policy, so Patrick had enough money for a college fund, which was excellent news.

Mary wondered if the investment portfolio had grown, so she set the will aside to take with her, and went to the second drawer, labeled
Financial
. The first few folders were old computer statements from Schwab, Waterstone, and E*TRADE. Behind them was the Cornerstone Financial folder, and Mary pulled it out and looked inside. The most recent statement showed that Dave Kather was the broker, and she skimmed to the balance, which was $225,928. So the inheritance had increased, and Mary assumed that if it stayed properly invested, it would do even better, but the decisions about finances would be Geltz's, as executor. God knew how much college tuition would be by the time Patrick was ready to enroll.

She checked the time on her phone, and it was not too late to call Geltz in a situation like this. She navigated online on her phone, checking him out before they spoke. Geltz's website popped onto the screen, with only one small picture of him. Geltz looked almost as old as Edward, a short, gray-haired lawyer with thick glasses and a professional smile, posed at his desk with his fingers linked in front of him.

Mary scrolled to the phone function, pressed in his cell-phone number, and the call was answered on the third ring. “Hello, is this James Geltz?”

“Why, yes,” Geltz answered in a thin voice. “It's rather late. Who is this?”

“I'm sorry to be calling you at this hour. My name's Mary DiNunzio and I'm a special education lawyer who was hired by Edward O'Brien, a client of yours. I'm sorry to tell you that Edward has passed away.”