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“Sit down.”Mom looked at Sam for a moment. She turned to me and stared. And stared. Her jaw was clenched. Every muscle in her face was drawn tight. In my entire life I had never seen her so angry. I was about to cry. Guys don’t cry.“Did ... you ... hurt ... her?”Each word spoken slowly, distinctly, her voice thick and lower than I’d ever heard before.Hurt Sam? Was she nuts? Wait. Stop. She doesn’t understand.“Mom, no! I love her. I could never hurt her.”Now I was crying. Jesus. This was a total disaster. Mom continued to stare at me. Then she turned to Sam, her face a little softer.“Sam, did he hurt you? Did he force you?”Sam, also in tears.“No, Mom. I love him.”Mom looked at Sam some more, then at me. That stare was back. She looked down at the table in front of her. One deep breath in, hold, breath out. Again. A third time.Silence.When Mom finally looked up again, once more at Sam, then at me, she was calmer. The stare was gone and her face had softened, but she wasn’t smiling.“I. The sun was shining and the ground temperature was 92 degrees. As we circled the airport I could see black thunderclouds building in the distance. I'd forgotten how clockwork the summers were in Jacksonville.Hot as hell during the day, summer heat like a thick cotton blanket lying across your face, followed most days by the rumble of afternoon thunder and violent, refreshing storms that were wonderful to experience if lightning or high winds didn't kill you or demolish your house in the night.I got a rental and took care of some business, then bought flowers and visited the Ever-green Cemetery. I found the graves without much trouble, although the old cemetery had expanded and added sections since I'd left. Granite headstones marked the resting places of Eileen and Patrick McCarthy.I'd bought vases for the roses I'd gotten for Mom, her favorite flowers, and the sunflowers that Dad, a big rough Irishman, had told me were his favorite because they had been his mother's favorite.I'd.
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