A Beautiful Funeral - Page 17/68

I paused, not expecting his answer. “N-now?”

“Now,” Trenton said without hesitation.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, already uneasy. “Is it Jim?” As expected, my question caught America’s attention. “Is he okay?”

“He’s okay. We just need you to come over.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to keep the worry from my voice. I knew Jim had been off lately, and I imagined that he might have gotten bad news from the doctor. “We’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thanks, Shep,” Trenton said before hanging up the phone.

“Jim?” America asked.

I put my phone away and shrugged. “I don’t know. They want us to come over.”

“Sounds urgent,” she said, watching my face for clues.

“I honestly don’t know, honey. Let’s just herd the boys toward the car. Twenty minutes is optimistic by anyone’s standards.”

“I can do it,” she said, walking toward the hall. “Boys! Car! Now!”

I watched her disappear into Eli and Emerson’s room and then searched for my keys and phone for a full minute before realizing they were both in my pockets. I cursed under my breath all the way to Ezra’s room, and then encouraged him to put on his Chuck Taylors so we could go. I knew for a fact America had started cleaning their rooms before even thinking about the rest of the house, and Ezra’s floor was already covered with clothes, toys, and …

“Rocks? Really?” I asked.

“Got them from James. He won them in a poker game.”

I subdued a smile, knowing exactly where James got his hustling skills from. “Tie your laces. C’mon, buddy, we gotta go.”

“Where?” Ezra asked in his mini-man voice. He reminded me of Thomas, always needing to know the details.

“To Papa Jim’s,” I said.

Travis and Abby’s twins had come a little early, making James and Jessica just a month younger than Ezra. Even without the influence of Travis’s kids referring to him as Papa, my kids would’ve still considered Jim their other grandpa.

“Yessss!” Ezra hissed, slipping on his Chucks without tying them and running for the door.

“Tie your shoes, Ezra! Ezra!” I called after him.

America was already standing next to the car just inside the open back door, reaching over Eli to buckle Emerson into his car seat. Ezra slid in on the other side, his laces dangling. America simply nodded to his feet, and his knee was bent, following orders.

“How?” I said, walking to my side.

“They know exactly what they can get away with,” she said, pulling open the passenger side door. She clicked her seat belt and then leaned back, taking the precious few minutes we had in the car with the kids strapped down to relax. I barely heard her next words over the engine igniting. “Every kid has a currency, love. They also know I will annihilate theirs.”

I chuckled, knowing full well she was serious. I’d seen many a toy plane and racecar bagged up and taken to charity or stored until the boys earned it back. America was militant at times, but she was right. One day, they would be bigger than she was, and it was important for her to establish respect before that happened. As I drove to Jim’s, I thought about what it would be like if Diane had been around to raise my cousins. Everything America did as a mother was exactly the way I pictured my aunt. I wasn’t sure how an only daughter kept a handle on a brood of rowdy Maddox boys, but from the moment she pushed Ezra into the world, she somehow always knew when to be soft and when to be tough.

I pushed down the blinker, waiting for oncoming traffic before turning left into Jim’s drive. The two gravel slits on each side of a runway of freshly mowed grass sat on the left side of Jim’s house and ran deep, past the backside of the house. So many cars were already parked, the ass of my minivan hung out into the street more than two feet. Good thing the parked car in front of Jim’s house would keep the flow of traffic away from the van.

“What the hell?” America said.

“Mom,” Ezra scolded. “Don’t say hell.”

“You don’t say hell,” America said back.

“You first.”

She turned slowly, shooting him a death glare. He sank back into his seat, already afraid for his life.

No one was waiting for us on the porch. Something was wrong. I unfastened Eli and Emerson and kept pace with America as she led Ezra by the hand to the front door. I knocked twice and then opened the screen door, making a mental note to come by and fix it before it fell off its hinges. Trenton and Camille had been busy trying to get pregnant, and Travis had just come home from working out of town. I pitched in to help when and where I could.

America took my hand, just as wary about what we were walking into as I was. Except for quiet murmuring in the kitchen, the house was quiet—strange with that many people in the house.

“Hey,” I said when Trenton came into view. He looked like shit, and I could see that both he and Camille had been crying. Travis and Abby were leaning against the counters next to the fridge, watching Trenton tell me whatever news I’d come to learn. “Where’s Jim?” I asked.

He hugged me quickly. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

“Trenton,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Tommy,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Oh, God. The baby?” America asked.

My stomach sank. Stella was only a couple of days old.

“No”—Trenton shook his head—“no, she’s fine. Super healthy.” He looked down at the boys. “James and Jess are upstairs. Why don’t you guys go find ‘em?”

All three boys took off, and America grabbed my arm with both hands, bracing us both for what Trenton might say.

“Tommy was shot outside his house earlier. Just after they brought Stella home.”

“Shot?” I said, feeling dizzy. All the air had been sucked out of the room while I tried to process his words. “But he’s okay?”

Trenton’s face fell. “It’s bad, Shep.”

I was getting angry, and I wasn’t sure why. “Like a drive-by or …?”

“We’re not exactly sure. The agents have been instructed to wait for Liis before giving any more info,” Trenton said.

America’s nose wrinkled. “Agents?”