Diesel did not appear, and I figured he was downstairs with Justin. He was really fond of the boy, and Justin certainly seemed attached to the cat. Diesel always seemed to have the ability to sense when someone needed comfort, and right now Justin did. If Diesel could help Justin through the difficult times ahead, I was delighted and very thankful that such a special four-legged friend had come into my life.
Almost half an hour passed by the time I went back downstairs. Julia and Justin were quiet when I entered the kitchen. It looked as though Justin had been crying, but now he appeared calm. Diesel jumped down from the boy’s lap and came to greet me.
“I told Justin about his father,” Julia said simply.
I nodded. “I can’t tell you both how sorry I am.” I reached down to rub the cat’s head.
“Thank you,” mother and son said in unison.
Julia stood. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’d like to freshen up a bit. Justin, why don’t you help Charlie set the table?”
“Yes, Mama,” Justin said. He got up from the table and went to the cabinet. Diesel padded after him.
I started to point Julia toward the downstairs bathroom, but she waved me away with a smile. “No need for directions.”
Justin brought three plates out and set them on the table, Diesel matching him step for step. “Thank you for inviting my mother to dinner.”
“You’re both very welcome,” I said. “If you’ll finish setting the table, I’ll get the food there.”
Justin nodded and worked in silence for a moment. As I was putting on oven mitts, he spoke again.
“Um, sir, I guess there’s something I need to tell you.” He stood, utensils in hand, his head slightly down. He appeared embarrassed. Diesel rubbed himself against the boy’s legs, but Justin didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s that?” I asked as I reached into the oven for the casserole dish. I thought it might be easier for him to talk if I wasn’t looking at him.
“It’s about what I told you yesterday,” Justin said. “About my dad—Ezra—hitting me.”
I set the casserole dish on top of the stove, realizing I needed to put a trivet on the table first.
“Go on,” I said, my voice neutral.
“I guess I kind of lied about it,” Justin said. His face colored. “Yesterday was the only time he ever hit me like that.”
“Why did you lie about it, then?”
Justin shrugged. “He was being so weird about the whole thing, about Godfrey Priest being my dad, too. He kind of freaked out, maybe, and I guess I wanted to get back at him by making him sound bad.”
“I can understand that,” I said. “What he did yesterday is inexcusable. He never should have struck you like that.”
“No, sir.” Justin began to lay the utensils at each place.
“I can’t blame you for being angry with him. No one could. But I’m glad to know that yesterday was the only time something like that happened.”
“Yes, sir.” Justin smiled briefly. “And he promised me at the hospital that he’d never ever hit me again, no matter what.” His face crumpled. “And now he’s going to die, too.” Diesel rubbed against his legs again.
Julia came back in time to hear that last sentence, and she gathered her son into her arms. Diesel moved away from them but sat nearby, watching. Justin wept for a moment, and Julia regarded me with a question in her eyes.
“Justin told me he lied to me about Ezra beating him,” I said, my voice soft.
“Good,” Julia said. “I told him he had to.”
Justin pulled away from his mother. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“I know, sweetie.” Julia patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go wash your face and blow your nose?”
Justin nodded and headed for the bathroom in the hall. Diesel went with him.
“He really is a good boy most of the time,” Julia said when Justin was out of earshot.
“I know,” I said with a smile. “Diesel wouldn’t be so fond of him if he weren’t.”
Julia laughed. “That cat is such a little character.”
I politely refused Julia’s offer of help, and by the time Justin returned to the kitchen everything was ready.
We all sat, Julia to one side and Justin across from me. I asked Justin to say grace.
He bent his head over his plate. “Bless this food, oh Lord, to the nourishment of our bodies. We thank you for our many gifts, and we pray that you will watch over us and over the loved ones who are not with us. Amen.”
Julia and I echoed his amen. I held my hand out for Julia’s plate and filled it with casserole and green beans while Julia filled her bowl with salad.
For a few minutes we were busy preparing our plates and bowls of salad, passing things back and forth. Diesel sat near my chair, watching every movement of my hands with great interest. When no tidbits were forthcoming, he moved to the other end of the table to try his luck with Justin.
By unspoken agreement, it seemed, we spoke of things other than the events of the day before. Julia asked Justin about his classes, and he expressed enthusiasm for his freshman English and history courses. He was not so fond of the science and math classes, however.
I talked a bit about my work cataloging rare books, and Julia listened to each of us in turn. Occasionally she prompted with a question, but for the most part she appeared content to let the males at the table carry the burden of conversation. I turned a blind eye to the occasional morsel of chicken or green bean that Justin so casually slipped from his plate.
An hour passed pleasantly, and I realized how much I missed having dinner with other people. I wished Sean and Laura, my children, weren’t so far away. But most of all, of course, I wished Jackie and Aunt Dottie could sit at the table with us, too.
Even Azalea’s chocolate turtle cheesecake couldn’t tempt Julia to stay for dessert. She looked much better now than when she had first arrived, but she was still tired and ready to go home for some rest.
I waved away any offers to help clear the table and set to work while Justin saw his mother out.
He stepped into the kitchen long enough to thank me again, and Diesel followed him upstairs when he said he had to get back to studying.
I took my time in the kitchen, doing my best to keep my mind off Godfrey’s death and Ezra’s terminal illness. It all seemed too much somehow, and I needed a mental break.
Finished at last, I turned off the lights downstairs and headed up to my bedroom.
After brushing my teeth and changing into my pajamas, I climbed into bed. Diesel was absent, no doubt still with Justin. He would appear eventually to claim his share—and more—of my bed.
I reached for Godfrey’s book and got comfortable. I read twenty pages or so before putting the book aside. The heroine wasn’t a particularly likable person, and I remembered that was another aspect of Godfrey’s books that had always bothered me. There was a strain of misogyny in the books that made me uncomfortable. For all the women Godfrey had apparently married and romanced, he didn’t seem to like women very much.
Still not ready to turn off the light and go to sleep, I retrieved my library book. Reading nonfiction would be a good way to cleanse my palate, I decided.
At some point I must have nodded off, book on my chest, because when Diesel jumped on the bed, I came to with a jerk. The book slid off me, and I yawned. While Diesel made himself comfortable, I put the book on the nightstand, turned off the light, and settled down to sleep.
TWENTY
The next morning, as I unlocked the door to the archive office a little after eight, I thought about Godfrey Priest. Only two days ago he walked in here, very much the Godfrey I knew in my youth, self-involved and full of life, and less than twelve hours later he was dead. I never liked him, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered.
Diesel couldn’t wait to investigate those intriguing boxes, and he sniffed around them while I got comfortable in my chair and turned on the computer.