Free Knowing His Secret by K. C. Falls

my mother's number. I felt a wave of guilt because I hadn't called her in a couple of weeks. That was followed by the grip of cold fear as I realized my mother was calling me at nearly one in the morning.
    "Mom?"
    "Raina , sweetheart."
    "What's up, Mom?" I tried to keep steady. My mother never, ever called this late.
    "I waited to call you until I knew everything was going to be all right. But I'm sure it's going to make the news, so I wanted to warn you. Your dad got into it today with some union thugs. He was hurt."
    "Daddy? Where is he? I want to talk to him."
    "He's still in the hospital. But the doctors will send him home in a couple of days. He's fine, really. A few stitches and a broken rib or two." Her voice shook even though she was trying to put a brave front on for me. "It was a scuffle over the courthouse building. Some of the workers still aren't satisfied with the contract terms."
    "So it got ugly again." My father's firm was one of the biggest contractors in Brooklyn. But Dad wasn't a big supporter of unions. He did all that he could to see that the city struck a hard bargain. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one concerned with the people who ultimately paid the bills--taxpayers like him. I had been frustrated more than once with what I saw as my father's refusal to just do his job and mind his own business. If the unions wanted the city to buy a fifty-dollar hinge where a ten-dollar one would do and the city didn't mind, then why should my Dad?
    "It's like this Angelcakes,' he'd tell me."It's 'cause me, and Bob and Vito and all the rest of our neighbors here are the ones who eat all that padding. Frankly, I'd rather have steak."
    I told Mom I'd drive home that instant.
    "Don't you dare," she ordered. "It is way too late for that. You don't need to come. He'll be out Wednesday at the latest. You can talk to him tomorrow." I knew my mother too well to buy her story. Okay, maybe it was too late to drive to New York, but with both my sisters on the West Coast, I was the only child available for moral support. She was frightened, and with good reason. We'd had bricks thrown through our living room window and phone threats before. Until Dad was home, she'd be scared shitless. Not that I could do much, but I could be company.
    "I'll leave at the ass-crack of dawn, Mom."
    "Raina, your language."
    I laughed hard at that one. "Mom, I am Donald Harding's daughter. 'Ass-crack' doesn't even merit honorable mention on Dad's list of cuss words."
    "You're also my daughter…"
    "I love you, Mom. See ya tomorrow."
    "I love you too, sweetie, but you really don't have to…"
    "Bye, Mom."
    "Bye."
     
    Eight
     
    I got up before the sun and threw some jeans and t-shirts into a bag. I was on my way before the sky had a trace of light in it. I realized, an hour out of Stockbridge, that I didn't have the cast list with me so I couldn't have called Tristan if I wanted to. Maybe that was just as well. If I was going to do this 'thing' with him on his terms, calling him with a family crisis was probably not a good move.
    I had the theater's number in my phone and I left a message for Tom that I'd have to miss two, maybe three night's rehearsal on account of a family situation. When I thought Jenn would be up, I intended to call her and see if she could pinch hit for me at least one of those nights. I told Tom to give me a call when he got the message and I'd explain. I decided I would leave it up to Tom to explain-- if anyone was interested--why I was missing.
    The ride was quiet and gave me time to give a great deal of thought to Tristan. Much as I was curious about the circumstances of Elsa's death, maybe it was none of my business. But, being brutally honest with myself, it wasn't her death that was eating me alive. It was the fact that Tristan had loved her enough for 'expectations'. He had loved her enough to expect a lifetime spent by her side. To expect a family, a life, friends, homes, travel--all the things that couples do.