Lost (22 page)

“Look, Squirt, Iron Man would
not
take
Superman. You know it, and I know it, so stop arguing.” Ant was gently teasing
Maggie, who was gamely in Iron Man’s corner.

“I bet he would
put up a good fight!” Maggie came back at him.

Ant scoffed at
her and stole a piece of bacon off her plate.

“HEY!” Maggie
fussed and ran around the table and took Ant’s whole plate.

Bee and Anthony
just smiled. Despite our reason for being there, all that had happened, I knew
Bee loved the noise. One drunken night, she told Amy and I through her tears
that she and Anthony had wanted a house full of kids—at least four. But no
matter what they did, she just lost baby after baby. I think she was seeing
what might have been, and it brought a sad smile to her face.

I gave her a
hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Bee.”

She hugged me
back. “For what?”

“For being my
friend.”

She swatted me
on the butt with her spatula. “You’re the sister I never had.”

“You have
three
sisters, Bee!” Anthony laughed.

“Yeah, but I
like Julie. That’s what I meant.
She’s
the sister I never had!”

Bee and I
joined Anthony, laughing loudly. Maybe too loudly. It was my “Fuck You!” to
whoever was doing this.

Screw you!
I said to myself.
You can do your
worst. I have my family, and we’ll get through this.

Maybe it was
false bravado or over confidence, but it was the best I had at the moment, and
I was going to run with it.

“Oh, Jules,
here you go.” Anthony slid some papers across to me. “Last night Jeffries let
me go into the office to get this for you.”

I took the
papers and saw that it was our insurance policy. I breathed a sigh of relief
and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Thank you, A.
What would I do without you?”

“I shudder to
think,” he told me dryly.

I rolled up the
insurance papers and swatted him. He laughed and moved his chair back out of
the way. This was my family. They had my back, and right then, in that moment,
I felt like I could do anything.

The house was a mess. He figured it had
sat empty for at least 2 years, maybe more. At some point, probably during one
of the bad storms that passed through, a tree had crashed through one of the
windows in the living room. That hole let in the elements, and the flooring in
the living room had started to rot away. The wallpaper was peeling, and the
house felt damp all the time. But it served his purpose. He crawled there a
while ago. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been living there, months maybe.

It offered him
a place to heal, to get better. He had collected things over the time he’d been
there—sheets stolen from someone’s clothesline; a blanket he’d taken from
someone’s car once it got colder. Cans of food, bread bags, and other odds and
ends all littered the house. But it was this latest item that he held to his
chest, that he slept with.

He looked at
the picture, held securely in it’s frame. Seven people stared back at him—four
boys and three girls. Or rather one woman and two girls. It was a professional
picture and should have looked stiff and fake, but the 7 people in it looked…
natural. He couldn’t come up with a better word. They looked real. Happy.

He was drawn to
the gorgeous woman in the picture, and he traced her face with his finger. A
feeling of peace settled over him, and he laid down—to sleep and finish
healing.

The Woman was
coming, and she would bring death with her.

“You want to tell me what’s going on,
Julie?” Joe Angelis was standing in my bathroom looking at the damage.

We returned
home to the mess on Sunday, and it was now Tuesday. Detective Jeffries, true to
his word, had pushed the crime scene techs to get what they needed so that I
could start the process of cleaning up our home. He seemed to understand that I
was going to take a stand, and
not
be run out.

Aftermath
Cleaning—apt name—had come out first thing Tuesday morning. They helped me pick
up the pictures that could be salvaged, and then cleaned up the glass that had
come from the destroyed frames. They cleaned up the broken shards of my
bathroom mirror and soaked up all the water that had come from the destroyed
toilet. The tile in the bathroom looked okay to me, but I wanted to be sure.
The hardwood flooring in our bedroom was another story. It looked soft and
almost sunken. I was pretty sure something would need to be done with it. They
removed the pieces of my destroyed toilet and broke down the shower doors. The
glass, though it was tempered, had also been broken. They disposed of my
shredded mattress, and I had gone through my clothes. There wasn’t a whole lot
I could salvage. My shoes were left untouched for the most part, but almost
everything I had hanging in my closet had been shredded. All I kept in my
dresser in the bedroom was my underwear and workout clothes. They were fine.
Brian had built shelving units in the closet for me, and I kept my casual
clothes in there. The drawers had been pulled open and clothes ripped out of
them. My closet was a lost cause, though the shelves themselves seemed okay.

When the
company started to get some business and really take off, Brian set something
up with the company lawyer that would allow some of the senior employees to buy
me out should something happen to him. They would then take over the company.
It was all over my head, so don’t ask me the details. About two months after
Brian passed away, I made the decision to go ahead with that contingency plan.
I didn’t know enough about construction to think that I could make a go of it,
and I didn’t want something Brian had worked so hard on to fall apart at my
hands.

Joe Angelis,
our old college friend, and his brother, Luke, stepped up, along with Isaiah
Wright, who had been the very first person Brian had hired. The three of them
now owned the company, though they had kept the name—Klevan Construction. It
was sort of a tribute to their boss, but most importantly their friend.

When I had
called on Monday morning, Joe said that he would come out as soon as I could
get back in the house, just let him know. And sure enough, when I texted him
that the cleaning crew had left, he dropped everything and pulled up to the
house less than 30 minutes later. He and Isaiah stood in my ruined bedroom,
surveying the damage.

“What the hell
is going on Jules?” Joe asked me with concern.

I didn’t have
an answer for Joe’s question. “I don’t know what’s going on, Joe. I wish I did.
I came home to this.”

Joe and Isaiah
exchanged looks.

“Julie, whoever
did this… well, this is bad,” Isaiah told me. He looked at me with his soft
brown eyes. He reminded me of Anthony. Same coffee colored skin, same barrel
chest, though Isaiah was a bit older, and his mostly salt hair proved that.
“The toilet is demolished. And the shower?”

I didn’t know
what to tell them. I didn’t have any answers, and the police had nothing new to
tell me.

I looked at the
men we had known for years—men Brian had trusted with his company, his
legacy—and I knew, like our dear friends, they would take a bullet for me. I
sat on my ruined bed and put my head in my hands. My shoulders shook, and I
just let the tears come. As strong as I wanted to be, it was still
overwhelming.

The insurance
company had an adjuster come out the day before and talk to the police. And
though they assured me all of it was covered under our homeowners policy, it
still left me with the task of coordinating all the repairs and replacing what
was lost.

The cleaning
company was amazing, so professional, but I still had to stand by and watch as
the memories were swept up.

The door was
being repaired by Luke. Sam and Ben had picked out a door very similar to the
one we had, but thicker, stronger. And it made me sad that those were suddenly
two qualities I needed to consider.

Amy had
searched through Brian’s files and found the pictures he used to make the
canvases of the kids and I in the kitchen, and she was having those reprinted
for me.

Everything
could be replaced, except for what mattered most—my jewelry box and some of my
turquoise jewelry. None of it was very expensive. It was the memories.
Fortunately, I still had the bracelet Sam had given me that first Mother’s Day.
A pair of earrings had also survived, as well as one of the rings the girls had
picked out for me the last Mother’s Day Brian was with me. They weren’t all
lost, but the box my husband had lovingly made for me was another matter.

It appeared
that he had told all our friends about it. Bee and Amy had cried with me when I
told them how it had been smashed, and even Joe, Isaiah, and Luke looked at me
with sad eyes when they came into my room and saw me picking up the pieces of
the ruined gift. They’d each given me a hug and assured me that whatever needed
to be done, they would take care of it.

Isaiah came
over to me and squatted down in front of me. “Baby girl, we’re gonna fix this.”

Baby girl—my
own father had never called me something so endearing. I had heard Brian call
the girls that more than once. For just a moment, I allowed Isaiah to take care
of me, to coddle me. My father was gone, as was Brian’s. Isaiah was the closest
thing I had to a father figure now.

“All of this.
All of this. Whoever this piece of shit was... Whoever it was that came in here
and violated the sanctity of your home was just a coward. They had to ruin
something beautiful, but we’re gonna take care of it.” He held my hands tightly
in his, and the callouses offered comfort. “Promise us you won’t worry about
that?”

I smiled at him
and was suddenly overwhelmed with all the love our friends had shown us. I
threw myself in his arms and thanked him. “Thank you, Isaiah. Thank you so
much! Thank you for just being here.”

He laughed and
hugged me back. “Girl, I’m too old for you.”

Joe laughed with
him.

Isaiah stepped
back, taking my face in his hands. He wiped the tears from my cheeks. “It’s
gonna be okay, baby girl. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Agh! Why
couldn’t you be my dad?” I had to join in the laughter, and it felt good. I
stepped to the side, but kept my arm around Isaiah’s waist. “Okay. Tell me what
we’re looking at here.”

Joe looked at
the flooring in the bathroom. “The tile’s okay. Luke said the damage to the
ceiling downstairs is most likely from the bathroom.”

I figured that,
but didn’t know the extent. “How bad?”

“Drywall’s
gonna have to be replaced, not a problem.”

“And the
flooring in here? It’s buckling, isn’t it?” I asked.

Isaiah looked
at it. He had installed the original flooring. The flooring had been our first
real splurge—a beautiful solid hardwood—a dark, distressed oak. We had foregone
date nights for almost five months to pay for it, and I had never regretted it
once. I loved the flooring and seeing the damage to it broke my heart.

Isaiah bent
down to look more closely at the flooring. “There’s buckling, and the easiest
solution is going to be replacing it. Just ripping it up and redoing it.”

I sighed.
That’s what I figured. “Do you think we can get this flooring again?”

“We’ll find
something, Julie.” Isaiah stood back up. “The shower doors shouldn’t be an
issue either. That was a special order from Lowe’s, and I’m betting we can even
get the exact same pair.”

We had just
done some work on the bathroom last year, so I was glad to hear that we
shouldn’t have too many problems with replacements.

“We can
probably have all this done in a few days, but we’re gonna have to look for the
flooring. Maybe just hope we can find something that will match up.” Joe was
jotting down some notes. “And Julie, while we’re here, anything else you need
done, we can take care of it.”

The house had
always been a work in progress. I was always coming up with ideas, and Brian
would do them as we had time and money. The kitchen was my latest project.
Brian had gotten me a Viking range at a great price. A friend of his had been
doing a kitchen remodel when the client changed her mind at the last minute, so
Brian snatched it up. We had also found a Sub-Zero fridge with glass doors—my
dream fridge—at a kitchen demo Brian and the guys did a few years ago.
Amazingly, the client gave it to us. We had repainted the kitchen cabinets, and
refinished the flooring. All that was left was a backsplash.

“Come on,” Joe
teased. “I can see your mind working. What is it?”

“Kitchen
backplash?” I shared.

“Pshh, no
problem. You pick out what you want. We’ll get it and put it up. Done. Anything
else?”

I figured that
moment was as good a time as any. “Brian’s workshop. Can one of you go through
it with me? He has a lot of stuff down there—stuff I don’t think we need, but
maybe you guys want it. Or you could use it for work.”

Luke walked in
while we were talking. “Julie, are you sure you want to go through all that?
You don’t think the boys might want it someday?”

I shook my
head. “No, it’s time. I asked Sam, and he went through some of the tools. We
have a basic tool kit—hammer, wrenches, stuff like that—but some of the wood
working equipment—things like that—I would rather someone use it then it just
sit there.”

“If you’re
sure, I’ll look it over with you.” Isaiah stepped up, and I thanked him, yet
again.

“I have a
replacement toilet in my truck. We can get that installed now. The mirror and
the shower doors will take a few days, and the flooring, we’ll start looking
right away. I’m sure we can have something in a few days,” Joe told me.

“The ceiling
downstairs is gonna be messy, but a couple guys and I can get it done in a day.
Best thing would be to move everything off the kitchen counters,” Luke told me.
“We can get what we need and handle that tomorrow.”

“I’m not taking
you guys off another job, am I?” I asked them, though they probably wouldn’t
say anything if I were.

“Don’t you
worry about that. We’ll handle it,” Isaiah assured me.

I knew they
would.