I peered over the top of my coffee at Diane, surprised by her words. I never thought Shannie reckless. To the contrary, she was extraordinarily calculating when it came to risk. She was keenly aware of threats. She always had an escape route. That's why the engineer's account troubled me. If she wanted out, she would have stepped away. In her last moments, I wonder what she thought, I wonder if she regretted her choice.
The four of us talked into the night, sometimes painfully honest, sometimes not, the kitchen walls witnessed many tears, long moments of silence, and even a laugh or two. Steve assured Diane he would handle the smallest of details. As the first hint of morning flirted with the eastern sky, my father suggested that we try to get some rest, offering valium to any taker. My father, I thought, such the subtle diplomat, what better way to sedate Diane than offering us all a sedative. Maybe he isn't the clod I know him to be.
I snuck out of Diane's house as my father put Shannie's grieving mother to bed, leaving behind the grueling details to Steve and my father. I wondered through the Ortolan's yard, under the bare limbs of the tree line and into Fernwood. I stared at Count's headstone. I glanced at the darkened old chapel before heading home. I'd break the news to the Lightman's after they woke.
***
I bolted upright in my bed, rousing myself from a light sleep. "Russell," I said aloud. I forgot to tell him last night. I didn't want him learning about Shannie through the grapevine. It never occurred to me that he already knew. He and Bradigan wasted many a night drinking coffee and eating donuts at 7-11. I threw clothes on, leashed Ellie and stepped out into the gray December day.
I needn't travel far before finding the sage. As Ellie and I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of my father's house, I noticed Russell crossing Bainbridge Street. I shivered in the absence of relief and reassurance I sought from his company. As his white cane danced back and forth in front of him a deeper more profound grief cloaked me. From the tips of his greasy, graying curls to the toes of his worn sneakers, everything about him spoke of Shannie.
My mind wandered back to that long ago summer day when Shannie introduced us, her excitement seeing the man behind the cloud of cigar smoke. Appearances never obfuscated Shannie's vision. I'm sure that if I'd only had my vision to guide me, Russell would be just another derelict from Main Street and not a surrogate grandfather. Shannie saved me from seeing the world through my mother's eyes. As I neared Russell, the smell of stale cigars and rotten eggs brought a smile to my face, one that I'm sure he would call bittersweet.