The rain ceased and the late evening sun streamed pink and amber rays through the thick, quick moving early autumn clouds. The clouds seemed in a rush to bring on winter, and Bruce Cairn lie dead in his bed like a cold, lifeless winter day. Constance took peace in the cool colors.
Upon his death, Constance stopped the clock and covered her father with a warm quilt to ward off chilling, undesirable spirits seeking to inhabit his soul. It was an old Irish custom she didn't necessarily believe in but didn't want to take any chance with her father's send-off to heaven.
"What now?" asked Gabriel as he approached his sister sitting curled up in a ball in a chair on the patio. "It's cold out here," he said. "I'm going to grab a sweater. You want one?"
"Mmmm, okay, sure," she thought about it. "Grab me a throw, brother, not a sweater, okay?"
Tossing the throw her way, he asked again. "What now, Stance?"
"I don't know. I'm trying to get a clear head. I can't believe Dad's gone, even though I was expecting it."
"We can't just leave Dad lying there. Will we get in trouble not calling the hospital?"
"He's dead, Gabriel. A hospital can't do him any good. We need to sit tight until Sis gets here. It's not against the law to wait for our aunt to come. The only other thing is to call Uncle Billy, and I'm not doing that."
"I wish Sis would get here," Gabriel looked toward the drive. "What do you think Dad was talking about?"
Constance shrugged. "I have no idea."
"He said Mom was singing to him," he tucked his hands deep into his sweater pockets and lifted his shoulders high against his neck to ward off the chill. He looked out toward the sea. "She loved to sing, remember?"
Constance smiled and nodded. Gabriel was getting so tall. "He was probably hallucinating."
"Probably," he agreed in a whisper. "The spiral arms are a true thing."
Constance looked at him with a puzzled look. "What?"
"The Milky Way does have spiral arms and the spiral arms do consist of gas clouds, billions of stars, and it does spawn out new suns. The rest though: the colors, the gas clouds spewing killing vapors, the spinning suns, the stars and suns detecting out-of-the-ordinary-phenomena; well, I'm not sure about that. I didn't learn that in science class or astronomy class. I've never read it in any magazines, either."
"You know about this stuff?" Constance was astounded.
"You do too, you just don't remember."
She laughed. "It all sounded like a far-out story to me.
She looked up into the night sky, darkening at an increasing rate.
"Anybody home here?" a booming voice shook the calm.
Fear came over the children's faces.
"Oh my God," Constance prayed more than stated.
"It's Billy," Gabriel whispered anxiously. "What'll we do?"
"Let me think!" Constance waved her hands in the air as if the action would provide her with the solution.
"Hurry, Stance!" Gabriel urged.
"Go into Dad's room through the seaside door and don't come out until I give you the sign. Lower the blinds, lock the doors, do whatever to keep Billy from going into Dad's room, Constance hurried him. "Go, quick, and lock the door behind you!"
"Anybody home here?" Billy yelled louder.
Constance could hear his obese, stomping gait.
"On the patio," she yelled while composing herself.
Gabriel tore around the curve of the patio, slid into his father's room, quietly shut the blinds, closed the drapes, and locked the door, all in the nick of time.
"Hey there, Con girl," Billy snarled puffing on a cigarette. "How's things?"
She hated being called Con girl and that's precisely why he used that name. Even more, she hated cigarettes and associated the foul odor with him.
"No different. You're just as smelly as always blowing that smoke out of your big mouth," she insulted him, a bit ashamed that it gave her such pleasure.
"Now, honey," he started as he stepped toward her.
"Don't call me honey, and don't come any closer," she growled.
"Why you such a smartass all the time, Con girl?"
"Why you such a pain-in-the-ass all the time, big Billy?" she countered.
Laughing, his belly rocked like an inner tube on a wavy lake. "When is that old man of yours gonna teach you some manners? Too bad your mama run off 'n got herself killed, course, she wasn't exactly no lady, so you wouldn't a learned nothin' from her."
"My mom didn't run off," Constance snarled.
"Your daddy oughta let you live with me for a while, honey. I'll teach you a thing or two about respectin' your elders. Where is the sick devil?"
"Go look in a mirror. It'd be staring back at you."
"Oh, you're a clever one, you are. Where is he?"
"Well, Billy, where do you think someone dying of cancer would be? Out ballroom dancing, maybe? Or swimming in the sea getting a little exercise? Maybe he took himself out to a fine restaurant for a juicy steak dinner."
Billy laughed a mean bellyful. "Yep, our daddy musta pissed God off real good to get his hands full with you."
"He's in bed. Where else?" she said snidely.
"I'll give the old fart a jiggle," he snickered walking toward the house.
"You don't want to go in there," Constance warned him.
"And why not?" Billy did a stupid jig to his question.
"Dad just did a woozy," Constance lied. "On second thought, go on in. Gabriel's cleaning him up and could use your help. You can hold Dad to one side while Gabriel washes him clean."
"I thought I smelt somethin' foul 'round here," Billy backed away.
"You're what stinks around here," Constance angered as she got to her feet and raced toward Billy. "My father would rather we leave him lying in his shit if it'd keep you away from him."
"You being so young, Con, it wouldn't be proper, me tellin' you where to hang your hat," he gave a look of disdain. "Your attitude won't be so sharp and sassy once your daddy is dead, and that can't be too long off. You'll be beggin' me for my kindness. I'll be back tomorrow," he snipped pounding the ground so hard Constance felt the earth shake.
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