The Happiest Day Page 14

  “What a question,” she said with a laugh. “Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

  “Why indeed?” He took a bite out of his sandwich. “Do you ever think about Mom and Dad?”

  “Only every day,” she responded.

  “I don’t remember them. That bothers me a lot.”

  “They adored you…both of us.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about them lately. I mean, they were murdered, Rachel. That’s huge. Why were our parents murdered?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you ever asked Norris about what he knows about that night?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” She felt uncomfortable suddenly. “He rescued us, you know.”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “I was at school and some new kid thought that Geoff and I were brothers. He asked why we had different last names. As I was telling him the story, it was like I was just reciting a story I had read. Suddenly, it hit me…my God, my parents were murdered. Was it a robbery or a vendetta or something else?”

  “We can ask Norris tonight if you’d like. I don’t know if he has any answers, but if anyone does know, it would be him.”

  “I was thinking that Geoff and I have a lot in common. He’s been talking a lot about his mother’s murder. I mean, I know the police think it was an intruder, but he doesn’t believe it.”

  “I know. He was asking me about it at the beach. We got interrupted but...” A feeling of uneasiness swept over her. “Where did you say he was?”

  Suddenly, there was a ruckus in the kitchen. They heard shouting and banging and a scream. Rachel and Laurie looked at each other in fear and raced to the kitchen. The sight that met their eyes stopped them both in their tracks. Norris had Geoff slung over his shoulder and Cook was pushing the big kitchen table clear of plates and food. Norris dropped Geoff on the table and Rachel uttered a scream.

  Geoff’s skin was a deathly gray, his limbs hung uselessly, and there was a spreading pool of blood on his clothes. “What is it?” she cried. “What’s happened?”

  Norris looked up and she saw that his face was frozen in a mask of terror. His mouth worked convulsively but no noise came out. Laurie sprung into action, ordering Cook to call the doctor. He raced over to Geoff’s side and pulled his shirt from his pants. There was a gaping wound in his abdomen.

  “He’s been shot,” Laurie said in disbelief. “What happened?”

  “I was talking to him,” Norris said, his voice hoarse and low. “I had my gun in my hand…it just went off. I thought the safety was on, I swear it.”

  Rachel moved leaden feet to stand next to her brother. She felt for Geoff’s pulse, lowering her head to his mouth. “He’s breathing,” she said in relief. “Shallow, but he’s breathing.”

  Cook turned from the phone. “Dr. Miller is coming in an ambulance. He said to get him into a bed and try to stop the bleeding. He shouldn’t lose any more blood, he said.” Her hands were shaking.

  They followed her instructions and carried him upstairs to his room. He made a low grunting noise as they laid him down. Smythe had joined them by this point and Rachel ordered him to bring as many towels as possible. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

  Laurie ripped off his own shirt and pressed it to the wound in Geoff’s abdomen. Although they knew it must hurt, Geoff made no response. “Come on, Geoff,” Laurie muttered. “Don’t do this. Hang on for me, brother.”

  Rachel stroked Geoff’s cold, pale face. “We’re here, Geoff. The doctor is on his way. You’re going to be O.K.” She looked up at Norris, who stood in the corner of the room, looking to be in shock. “Norris, why don’t you sit down?”

  He shook his head. “Is he dead?” he asked in an almost whisper.

  “Don’t say that word!” she hissed. “He’s going to be all right.”

  “His eyes are open,” Laurie said. “Geoff, can you hear us?”

  He nodded slightly. His crystal blue eyes, just like his father’s, slid to look at Rachel. “Rae…” he said, his lips barely moving. “Journal.”

  “Don’t try to talk, Geoff,” she said. “Help is on the way.”

  Smythe ran in then with towels, and she traded out Laurie’s blood-soaked shirt for a clean towel. “We should call Peter and Maryanne,” Laurie said, staring at his shirt.

  “I’ll do it, sir,” Smythe said. “Stay with young Mr. Thornton.”

  Geoff groaned and Rachel’s attention was drawn back to him. “Geoff, try to relax. Don’t fight. I can hear the siren. Can you hear it? The doctor will be here in just a moment.”

  He reached up a bloody hand and grabbed her upper arm. “Listen…” he said in a weak, barely there voice. “Journal.”

  “What is he saying?” Norris said from the corner. “What did he say?”

  “Journal?” Rachel shook her head. “Geoff, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Journal,” he repeated insistently, but the word was slurred now. His eyes drifted shut and he made a strange noise in his throat. Then she heard a long exhale and a few bloody bubbles came out of his mouth. Then there was nothing.

  “Oh my God,” she cried, her voice torn from her throat. “No. Geoff! Geoff!” She shook him by the shoulders but he didn’t respond.

  Laurie sank onto the bed, his head dropping into his hands. “No…”

  “Is he dead?” Norris repeated himself.

  The doctor ran into the room just minutes later, ordering everyone out of the way. Rachel and Laurie embraced each other, silent sobs shaking their bodies. She waited for the words she knew were coming. Dr. Miller turned from the bed, his hands covered in Geoff’s blood.

  “I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

  Norris let out an animal wail then and sank to the ground, covering his head with his arms. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

  Rachel knew she should go to him but his despair was so overwhelming she was afraid to approach him. Instead, she and her brother comforted each other. She glanced over at Geoff’s still body and felt a wave of anguish. Was it only just a week ago that he had asked her about his own mother’s death? Only a week ago that he had confided in her about his plans to attend Harvard? Now, his life had been cut short, in such a violent manner. She heard Norris’ cries and the doctor’s low voice as he tried to comfort the man.

  “Journal,” Geoff had said. His last word had been “journal.” What had he meant?

  “Mrs. Thornton?” Smythe asked, gently touching her shoulder. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I wanted to tell you that Mr. MacGregor and Mr. and Mrs. Corbin are on their way. I only told them that there had been an accident involving young Mr. Thornton They don’t know…” His eyes moved to Geoff’s still form. “They don’t know what’s happened.”

  Rachel nodded stiffly. “We should meet them downstairs,” she said. “I wouldn’t want them to come in here and see him like this.”

  “I’ll call in a few of the maids with your permission and we can…prepare his body for viewing.” He was choosing his words carefully but Rachel could see that he was struggling with emotion. Geoff had been loved by all.

  “Thank you, Smythe,” she said. “Come on, Laurie, we need to go downstairs and wait for the others.”

  Laurie wiped his eyes and nodded. “All right. Norris…?”

  “Leave him. Dr. Miller will take care of him.”

  When Peter, Maryanne, and Bert entered the house, their faces were lined with worry. “What is it?” Maryanne asked immediately, taking in Rachel and Laurie’s bloodied hands and clothes. Laurie remained shirtless. “Smythe said it was serious.”

  Peter grasped Rachel by the shoulders. “Where is he?” he asked, despondency already in his eyes. He could read Rachel’s expression.

  “He’s in his room.” She reached up and touched Peter’s face. “I’m sorry,” she cried softly, her voice breaking. She looked at Maryanne. “I’m so sorry. Geof
f died about half an hour ago.”

  “No!” Maryanne screamed, her body doubling over. Bert’s arms came around her and he supported her body as Laurie slid a chair to her.

  “What happened?” Peter asked, pain etched in his face. His hands trembled as they slid from her shoulders to upper arms.

  “He and Norris went skeet shooting. Norris’ gun went off by accident and got Geoff in the gut,” Laurie relayed tonelessly. He sat down on the floor next to Maryanne as if his legs could no longer support him.

  “Was he conscious?” Bert asked.

  “Just for a bit.”

  “Where’s Daddy?” Maryanne managed to get out past her tears.

  “He’s still upstairs. Dr. Miller is there, as well.”

  Rachel didn’t go back up to Geoff’s room the rest of the day. She sat in the front parlor with Laurie while the rest of the family went upstairs. As the day waned, she knew that Geoff’s body was removed from the house and that Dr. Miller told her that he had given Norris something to help him sleep. Peter returned to the parlor in pulled her into his arms.

  “Did he say anything before he died?”

  “Only one word, journal.”

  He pulled away slightly. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine he was thinking clearly.”

  Peter sighed and pulled her to him again. “I’m going to stay here for the next few days, through the funeral. Maryanne and Bert, too. Bert went home to get the baby from the neighbor and he’s going to pack bags for all of us. I don’t want you to have to do everything by yourself and Norris seems completely out of his mind.”

  “I’m glad. I wish you could be with me at night, too. I don’t know if I can sleep.”

  “I’ll stay with you until you think you can sleep.”

  “What about Blanche?”

  “I’ve already talked to her. She’ll come to the funeral but I told her to not complicate things by coming around. I don’t want to deal with her right now.”

  Maryanne wandered into the room, looking forlorn and lost. Rachel scooted over on the sofa and held her hand out to her. “Come sit with us until Bert gets back.”

  Maryanne joined them, leaning her head on her brother’s shoulder. “It’s like we’re in a nightmare.”

  “We’ll be all right as long as we stick together,” Peter said tiredly.

  “First Mother, and now Geoff.” A sob escaped her. “Sorry…I didn’t think I could cry anymore.” She struggled for a moment, and then continued, “I tried to talk to Daddy, but he’s in shock.”

  “Dr. Miller told me he gave him something to sleep.”

  “It’s the best thing for him,” Peter said. “Real life is waiting soon enough.”

  Bert arrived soon after and they all sat up late into the night, reminiscing and crying together. Around three in the morning, Rachel felt herself drifting off and allowed Peter to help her upstairs to bed. He tucked her in and kissed her lightly on her forehead so he wouldn’t disturb her. Then he went to his brother’s room and sat on his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had been twelve years old when Geoff had been born and had been charmed by the happy, loving baby. He had hauled him around in his arms until Helen had snapped at him to put the boy down so he could learn to walk. He had watched his brother grow from a sturdy toddler to a talented young man. Everything he touched turned to gold. Until today.

  The next morning, Rachel arose feeling heavy-hearted and depressed. She dressed without caring how she looked and exited her room, intent on checking on her husband. She found him still sleeping, however, and was loathe to disturb him. As the day wore on and they accepted a steady stream of visitors who had heard the tragic news, she checked on him often but he did not stir. At one point, she checked his pulse and found it beating steadily. She called Dr. Miller who recommended that she let him sleep.

  “He’s had a horrible shock,” the doctor explained. “His body is just trying to protect itself from the pain.”

  The family arranged Geoff’s funeral that afternoon with the family priest and ate a light dinner in silence.

  “Daddy will need to eat,” Maryanne said worriedly. “I’ll ask Cook to make him a plate.”

  “He still hasn’t stirred,” Rachel answered.

  “He hasn’t eaten for at least thirty-six hours. You’ll have to wake him. I’ll go with you if you like.”

  They went upstairs together and Rachel gently shook Norris. Maryanne set the tray down on the bureau and came to sit on the bed next to her father. “Daddy, you need to wake up,” she said gently.

  His eyes fluttered open and he stared at his daughter with a glazed, confused gaze. “What…what time is it?”

  Rachel looked over her shoulder at the miniature grandfather clock in the corner of his room. “It’s eight in the evening. You’ve been asleep for over a day.”

  He rolled over on his back and stared at Rachel. “I had a terrible dream,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “Daddy, it wasn’t a dream,” Maryanne said, stroking his hair. “Geoff is gone.” Her ever present tears spilled over. “I’m sorry, but Geoff is dead.”

  Rachel sat down on the opposite side of Norris and took his hand. “We planned his funeral today. We’ll have the funeral mass tomorrow at ten, followed by a wake here at the house.”

  He shook his head. “I thought it was a dream. He’s really gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shot him.”

  “It was an accident,” Rachel said firmly. “We’ve brought you something to eat. You’ll feel better if you get something on your stomach and you can come spend time with the family. We all need you.”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  “Daddy,” Maryanne started but Norris interrupted her sharply.

  “No! I can’t! Leave me be!” He shoved at both of them and stumbled out of bed into his bathroom, slamming the door.

  Maryanne stared at the closed door, her body shaking, and Rachel gently helped her stand. “Let’s leave him.”

  Once downstairs, Laurie was aghast. “He’ll come to the funeral tomorrow, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Rachel answered honestly. “We’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.”

  “It’s his son. He can’t miss the funeral.”

  “He’s not in his right mind, Laurie,” Peter said grimly. “We’ll just have to hope that when he wakes up tomorrow, he’s ready to face what’s happened.”

  When the sun rose the next day, though, Norris refused to answer the knock at his door and Rachel found it locked when she tried to enter. “Norris,” she said, laying her head against the door. “Norris, we’ll be leaving in an hour for the funeral. I hope you’ll meet us downstairs.”

  They waited as long as they could but Norris did not appear downstairs. Peter pulled Smythe aside. “Once we leave, can you try to encourage Norris to eat something?”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” the butler answered. “I’ll watch over him, please don’t worry.”

  Norris’ absence at the funeral and wake was noticed and whispered about in hushed tones. Rachel could hardly wait until everyone left the house and she could focus on trying to help Norris heal. She was truly worried about his state of mind. She talked to Dr. Miller, who had attended the service.

  “He still hasn’t come out of his room?” the doctor asked.

  “No. I’m not even sure he has eaten anything.”

  “Let me go talk to him.” He came back down a few minutes later, shaking his head. “He refused to let me in.”

  “How long do I let this go on?”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do about it at this point. If it goes on to the point where we worry about his survival, we’ll have to gain entry to the room somehow.”

  Peter had arrived to catch the end of the conversation. “There are keys for all of the rooms. We can get in if we have to.”

  “If you know that he is not eating, I wouldn’t wait any longer than tomorrow.”
>
  “We can’t force him to eat,” Rachel argued.

  “No,” the doctor agreed, “but we can take him somewhere where he can be helped.”

  Rachel drew back in horror. “Do you mean a hospital? A mental hospital?”

  “Rachel, if he’s unable to deal with the reality of what has happened to the point where he is jeopardizing his own health, then a institution, even temporarily, is exactly what Norris needs.” The doctor touched her arm gently. “I’ll be out tomorrow.”

  She walked Dr. Miller to the door, Peter accompanying her. After thanking him and closing the door, Rachel wrapped her arms around her middle. “I wish these people would leave.”

  Peter stepped close to her, one hand stroking her back soothingly, the other holding one of her hands. Rachel sunk slightly against him, reveling in his strength. With him next to her, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

  “I’ll start subtly moving people out,” he promised. “You need your rest.”

  Blanche appeared in the front hallway where the stood and Peter’s hand on Rachel’s back tensed. In her black, tightly tailored dress, she looked less like a mourning sister-in-law and more like she was on her way to a cocktail party. “How are you doing, Rachel?” she asked in a deceptively concerned voice. “I see my husband is watching over you.”

  “Go to hell, Blanche,” Rachel said evenly.

  Blanche laughed humorlessly. “You know what really bothers me? I suspect that you think you have the upper hand. He is my husband, you know.”

  “Blanche,” Peter said wearily. “Don’t do this, not today. We just buried my brother.”

  Blanche turned her laser gaze on him. “I know. So I would think that you would show some respect and not make it obvious that you have taken her for your mistress.”

  Peter’s hand fell and Rachel felt the loss sorely. More than anything, she wanted Peter to stand up to Blanche but she knew that today was neither the time nor place. He had handled Blanche for many years and she had to trust him. He looked down at Rachel, his eyes apologetic. “I’m going to go start corralling the masses. I’ll try to have the house cleared within the hour. Blanche, why don’t you come with me?”

  She linked her arm through Peter’s. “I’d be more than happy to. We should present a united front.” She smiled at Rachel, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe you should go sit with your husband.”