Page 69 of Single Malt

“Good.” I took a seat at my desk and looked down at the planner. I had a calendar on my computer too, but sometimes I liked having paper in front of me. “I think I’ll order lunch in. Want to join me?”

She shook her head. “Today’s my aunt’s birthday, and that’s the best time to call her.”

I nodded. “Just let me know if you need extra time with her.”

“I will. Thank you.”

My cell phone rang just as Adela was stepping out of my office. Da’s ringtone. It wasn’t strange for him to call me in the middle of the day or to use my personal phone since I traveled a lot, but for some reason, a bright sliver of panic went through me, as if I sensed something bad on its way.

“Da?”

“Brody, lad. It’s Eoin.”

My heart sank, and I could barely repeat my brother’s name. “Eoin.”

“He’s alive.” Da’s voice was thick but steady. “We dinna know a lot, but we do ken there was an explosion, and he’s hurt, but alive.”

I closed my eyes, relief and terror warring inside me. Relief that he was alive, but terror that he wouldn’t stay that way. Terror that, even if he did survive, he wouldn’t be the same.

I knew all too well the type of mark a brush with death could leave on a person, and my own hadn’t been from an explosion in a war zone. The violence of nature was different than the violence of man, easier to understand and accept.

But dead would still be dead.

I lost my mother when I was a child, but I’d never let myself think about the possibility of losing a sibling, not even when Eoin had enlisted. Every time he’d been sent overseas, I’d told myself that I’d lost a mother, my siblings had lost a father. We wouldn’t lose anyone else.

But we almost had. We still could.

“Brody?”

“You and Mom are at the house?”

“Aye.”

“I’m on my way.”

Forty-Five

Freedom

Things were finally backto the way they were supposed to be. A school routine that hadn’t varied for the last three weeks. Hard work. Home-cooked meals and normal discussions with Aline. Time in the library. Calls to our parents every few days. The recommended eight hours of sleep. We worked toward our goal each and every day, and that was my only focus. I was ready for the next step.

Now that we were half-way through March, it was time for Aline and me to have some serious discussions about our plans after graduation. I figured we’d both worked our butts off over the years, so we should at least take the first week after the ceremony to spend some time with our parents, maybe even take a trip with them, but after that, we’d need to hit the ground running.

The best way to avoid the influx of recent graduates and take that time with family was to have everything in placebeforewe actually graduated. If we could give employers a specific start date and make it June tenth, we’d be able to have that week of fun and relaxation with our parents before getting into our careers. If Aline was set on starting as a full-time teacher in the fall, the dates would be based on that particular school district, but the premise of my plan was still sound.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were two of our busiest days, so we normally stayed at the campus for lunch rather than going back to the apartment. Even so, we often ate together, using the time to touch base about the rest of our day.

Occasionally, friends would join us, but not as often as they had those first few years since several of the others had taken their four-year degrees and moved away from Stanford. Friends who were on the same track as us were just as busy. Today, Aline was alone at our usual table at The Axe & Palm, absorbed in something on her phone.

From the moment she looked up, however, I saw in her eyes that she hadn’t been as focused on her phone as I’d thought. She had something to share that had her practically vibrating with excitement.

“I’ll get our food,” I said, gesturing for her to stay seated. “The usual?”

Aline nodded, her eyes bright and sparkling. She was small and delicate enough that it was common for her to be mistaken as younger than she was. When she was like this, she could’ve been a child on Christmas morning, waiting to open her presents. “Thanks. When you get back, I have something to tell you.”

I chuckled and shook my head as I went to get our meals. I loved when she was like this, so innocent and full of wonder. I thought there were some drawbacks to how much we’d protected and sheltered her, but then I’d see that look, and I’d remember that it was worth the occasional annoyance.

By the time I made it back to the table, she’d managed to shred three napkins and make a little pile in front of her. I didn’t comment as I set down half a dozen napkins with her spicy chicken sandwich. She’d never liked sitting still, and age hadn’t changed anything. She always said it would be one of her best qualities as a teacher, understanding what it was like to need movement of some kind.