P. Parrish - Thicker Than Water

Louis started the car. The slides were still moving in his head and suddenly he could see Bob Ahnert’s face showing him Lou Ann’s picture.

She ran away from home Thanksgiving night.

College kids came home at Thanksgiving.

They also came home at Easter. And Easter was almost always in April.

Louis leaned on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. The slides were forming a new picture now. One bathroom shared by two law offices. One secret shared by two brothers. And a father who was never there-until it counted.

Louis jerked the Mustang into gear and made a U-turn across the deserted street. He needed to see one thing to be sure, before he said anything to anyone. He headed north, toward the cemetery.

The darkness disoriented him. He swung the flashlight beam over the headstones, stepping gingerly on the soft, wet grass. Finally, he spotted the black outline of the huge lace-canopied tree and found his way to Kitty’s grave. From there, he was able to retrace his steps to the Brenner family plot.

He flicked the beam over BRENNER and down across CHARLES and VIVIAN. On the ground, the beam picked up the three tiny markers.

Geraldine Infant Baby Girl Infant Baby Boy

1942–1944 1945 Stillborn 1948 Stillborn

Louis focused the beam on the first baby girl. He was remembering now what Ellie had told him about the Rh-factor. She had told Louis that the first positive child was the one who triggered the antibodies that killed all the positive babies who followed. Vivian’s first child wasn’t a stillborn; she had a name, Geraldine, and she had lived two years. That meant she was positive and the one who triggered the death of the second baby, a stillborn.

So Ellie had been wrong. Scott wasn’t the firstborn-he was the third. And he had to be Rh-negative.

A sudden image came to his mind-Scott at Kitty’s exhumation, standing over the grave, holding a hand to his mouth, a hand that hid not nausea but a smirk.

God damn him. God damn him to hell.

Louis turned and walked quickly back to his car. He jammed the keys in the ignition and roared the engine to life, jerking the Mustang into reverse.

He was almost to the entrance when he saw oncoming headlights. He slowed to let the car pass. It was a black BMW.

It was Brian.

Louis turned around, cut his lights and trailed the BMW. He gave Brian enough time to park and walk away from the car before he pulled up behind. When he got out, Brian had disappeared.

On top of the rise, Louis looked toward Kitty’s open grave, but Brian wasn’t there. Louis started off toward the Brenner plot.

Brian was standing there, head bowed, staring down at the headstone. Louis hesitated, knowing if he took one more step, he would beat the shit out of the pathetic bastard.

Brian looked over at him. Louis could barely see his face in the darkness.

“I hardly knew my father,” Brian said softly.

Louis unclenched his fist and moved closer.

“When Scott came and got me tonight,” Brian said, “he told me to just go home. I couldn’t. I had to come here. I had to talk to him. I had to apologize.”

“To who?” Louis asked.

Brian nodded at the headstone. “My father. I had to tell him I couldn’t keep our secret anymore.”

Brian was staring at the headstone.

“Brian?”

He looked up at Louis. There was something in his face, a piteous look, almost a forewarning, that for a moment made Louis want to turn and walk away. But he knew he had to hear it.

“Tell me what happened that night, Brian.”

“I remember it was really warm that night, like summer was coming early.”

Brian raised his face to the dark sky, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was looking across the cemetery but not focusing on anything in particular. The tombstones were just gray shapes in the weak predawn light, like silhouettes of people waiting patiently in line for something to begin.

“I had a new red Corvette. It was my first car, and I remember I wanted to show it off.”

He fell quiet. Louis waited.

“You went to the drive-in that night,” Louis said finally.

Brian gave a slight nod. “It was crowded. Everyone was there.” He blinked several times, like he was trying to bring the picture in his head into focus.

“She hung the tray on my window. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing this silly red and white hat on her head. She smiled at me and said she liked my car.” He paused. “God, she was so pretty.”

Louis looked down at the ground for a second, then back up at Brian.

“I had seen her before,” Brian went on softly, “but I didn’t have the guts to talk to her. But then when she said she liked my car, I guess I felt a little braver. I don’t know. .”

He was quiet again. The silence was broken by the first faint birdsong of the morning.

“I asked her if she wanted to go for a ride,” Brian said. “She said she had to work. I asked her if I could wait and give her a ride home.”

Louis couldn’t resist. “She turned you down,” he said.

Brian looked over at him and gave a wan smile. “Yes,” he said. “But I was used to it. I wasn’t like Scott. Talking to girls was hard for me.”

The breeze lifted Brian’s wispy hair down over his forehead. For a second, Louis thought he looked like he was twelve, but then the illusion was gone.

“I parked down the block and waited until the drive-in closed,” Brian said. “It was about eleven-thirty, I think, when I saw her come out and start down Linhart. I followed her to the bus stop. She saw me and we started talking. I remember sitting there at the curb and she came over and leaned in my window to look inside the car. She smelled like. . chocolate, like a chocolate malt.”

Louis rubbed the back of his neck. “What happened next?” he asked.

“She said her feet hurt. I asked her again to let me give her a ride home. I told her I would put the top down. I thought she was going to turn me down again. But she didn’t. She got in the car.”

Brian stopped, his eyes going up to the trees and then down again. He took a few steps away and sank onto a stone bench facing the Brenner headstone. He pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket and quietly blew his nose.

“I had a hard time watching the road,” he said. “I remember we were driving down McGregor and the top was down and it was warm and the wind was blowing and she was laughing and her hair was blowing back. I had a hard time watching the road. .”

Louis leaned against the tree, watching as Brian’s features took shape with the quickening light.

“She said it was almost warm enough to go swimming,” he said softly. “I told her my family had a pool.”

Louis crossed his arms. “She went with you willingly?”

Brian nodded. “I could tell she was worried about it and I remember she said something about her father. But I told her I lived really close and I would take her home right after. So we went to my house.”

Louis looked away to the pink-edged horizon. He could see the Brenner mansion and everything it must have represented to Kitty. When he looked back at Brian, he was sitting, elbows on knees, head bowed.

“You gave her something to drink?” Louis asked.

Brian’s head came up slowly and he nodded. “One beer. She had a few sips, but she said she didn’t like the taste and gave it to me. I didn’t like beer either, but I drank it anyway.”

When Brian fell quiet again, Louis prodded him. “You went out to the pool.”

“Yeah. We weren’t supposed to use it because it was getting redone. So I told her to be quiet so no one up at the house would hear.”

He stopped, like he just remembered something. “There must have been a full moon, because I could see her standing there and I was too scared to turn on the lights. But I could see her really clearly. She took off her tennis shoes and sat down on the edge, dangling her feet in the water. I sat down next to her, drinking the beer. She was so damn pretty sitting there and I was so damn nervous.”