Fireproof

blushed like a schoolgirl.
    Sam was going to check on Iggy, thinking the boy might need help. But her mother had told her, “Leave him be. He’s fine. He said he’s a big boy now.”
    He came marching down the stairs, watching his feet as though he didn’t trust the rarely worn leather dress shoes. Sam swallowed hard, but the lump stayed in her throat. He looked like a little man in his trousers and white button-down shirt with red suspenders that matched his red bow tie.
    “I tie it for him,” her mother said, then shook her hands in a go-away gesture.
    Sam’s cell phone rang and all three of them froze in place as if the ring had stung them. The two people she loved most in this world looked at her briefly with an innocent anxiousness before their eyes automatically switched over to disappointed resolve.
    Sam glanced at the caller ID, though she already knew it had to be Jeffery. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In all the years as his camera technician she had always been there. Jeffery was just another reporter without a camera on him, but Sam knew he could replace her tonight and all the nights to come with a snap of his fingers.
    Of course, no one would put up with him as much as she did or for as long as she had. Sam and Jeffery had become like an old married couple, ignoring each other’s idiosyncrasies, taking the good with the bad. It had been Sam’s experience that marriages and relationships usually ended up with one person taking the brunt of the bad. Her mother and son certainly had in the last few years of her relationships with them.
    Sam’s finger hovered over the phone as it continued to ring. She saw her son put his hands under his suspenders, getting ready to flick them off his shoulders, and she put her hand up to stop him.
    “Don’t you dare,” she said to him, then moved her finger overthe phone’s faceplate, taking Jeffery’s call and sliding it to Ignore. Before it could start ringing again, she shut the phone off.
    “Let’s go,” she said, but neither her son nor her mother moved. They stared at her, almost as stunned by what she had just done as Sam was.

CHAPTER 58

    Patrick opened the door and recognized the woman without an introduction. By the surprise on her face, he knew she recognized him, too.
    “She said you looked exactly like your father.”
    “Maggie said that?”
    “No. Your mother.”
    “So you’re Kathleen O’Dell?”
    “And you’re Patrick.”
    “Maggie’s not here.” But he opened the door and invited her in anyway.
    She hesitated, but only for a second, staring at him as if she were seeing a ghost.
    “I know she’s not here. I didn’t come to see Maggie.”
    Now Patrick wished he hadn’t been so quick to open the door. Maggie had a security camera. He could have easily avoided this and just pretended to not be here.
    “You keep in touch with my mom?”
    “From time to time.” She made her way into the living room. “Don’t look so surprised. How do you suppose we kept the two of you from finding out about each other all these years?”
    He didn’t like the sarcasm in her voice. She might resemble Maggie in looks, but her brusque manner was nothing like Maggie. Not two minutes after their introductions and Patrick could detect a cruel edge to this woman.
    “What is it that you wanted to see me about?”
    “My, I don’t recall your mother mentioning how rude you are.”
    He felt the flash of heat crawl up the back of his neck.
    “Perhaps you could get me something to drink?”
    She followed him into the kitchen like she knew her way. Stopped at the island counter and watched him take out two glasses from the cabinet and open the refrigerator. Before he brought out the pitcher of ice tea she stopped him.
    “You must have something a little stronger than ice tea. I know you were tending bar at college, so you must be old enough to drink.”
    “You know exactly how old I am,” Patrick told her, allowing his irritation to show.
    She looked at him for a second and he saw a deep sadness in her eyes as she said, “Yes. Yes, I do know exactly how old you are.”
    It had taken Patrick’s mother a lifetime—Patrick’s lifetime—to admit that he was conceived during a three-month affair with Thomas O’Dell. Growing up, he knew little about his father except for the bits and pieces he kept in a Nike shoe box. It wasn’t until five years ago, when Maggie came looking to meet him at the University of New Haven, that Patrick