Greg Iles - Third Degree

“I don’t feel too good about it myself.”

She dropped her hand, revealing bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know where to go, Danny. Do I get in the car and drive to the beach? Take the kids to Disney World? There’s this huge hole in our lives now, and I don’t know how to fill it.”

He cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Go down to the travel agency and buy three plane tickets for Disney World. Forget the Internet. Tell everybody you know that you’re leaving town. Pack up the SUV where all the neighbors can see you. When it gets dark, load up the kids and drive out to Deerfield Road. We’ll close the gate and shut out the world. There’s fifty acres for everybody to get to know each other in. I can move out to the cabin by the pond, and you guys can take the house. We’ll fish, cook out, let your dog chase the four-wheeler, whatever. If the kids get bored, I’ll rent a plane and fly us anywhere they want to go. Even Disney World. Nobody will know where you are or what you’re doing. And you can have all the time you need to get over things.”

He thought he saw hope in her eyes, but he wasn’t sure.

“Do you think…,” she said, faltering. “Would it be all right, considering the kids? Or would it just be selfish?”

He walked around the table but stopped a foot away from her. “There’s something I haven’t told you. I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

She drew back, obviously afraid of learning yet another nightmarish fact about her husband’s death. “Do I need to know this?”

“You do. Before Warren died, he asked me if I would take care of you and the kids.”

She looked back at him in disbelief. “Don’t lie to make it easier for me.”

“I swear by all that’s holy. He asked me to take care of you. He was a good man in the end. He wasn’t thinking of himself.”

Fresh tears flowed from Laurel’s eyes. Then she collapsed against his chest and began to sob. He stroked her hair and held her gently, letting her cry it out.

“What do you think?” he asked at length. “About that fake vacation?”

She nodded into his chest.

“When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” She pulled back and looked up at him with guarded hope. “Will you take care of us?” Before he could answer, she took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. “All of us?”

Danny felt the heat of her body through the linen. Memories of all the days he had thought he would die young flooded through him, bringing an awareness of years granted that seemed a pure grace, given those he had seen stolen from men much younger than he. “I will,” he said. “Till there’s no life left in me.”

She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder. “That better be a long time from now.”

He squeezed her tight, knowing only one thing with certainty: that every moment was a gift.