Page 16 of The Rescuer

“I know.” Brian stared into Reardon’s dark-blue eyes. “I know you’re dying, if that’s what you came here to talk about.”

“Well, so you'll understand why I need time alone with Edwin.” The Irishman’s voice was flat and his face expressionless, but the librarian could sense the emotions storming inside the man. “For the rest of my remaining days, which isn’t very long. Two weeks, maybe less.”

“I understand. Do you want us to talk about…um…your last wishes?” Brian had a hard time finishing the sentence. He couldn’t fathom the thought that the man standing in front of him was going to cease to exist in less than two weeks.

“If Edwin will mourn me, leave him be.” This time, Reardon’s voice was pleading and tinged with sadness. “Don't drag him back home right after the funeral if he wants to spend some more time with me. Please.” The last word came out as a soft whisper.

“I promise you to give Edwin all the space and time he needs, but if he asks for my family and I, we will stand by him.” Brian’s reply came in a reassuring voice. “No one will push him, only his and your wishes matter at this time.” He cleared his throat. “You won't understand now, but you will soon. If my brother is in trouble, but he doesn’t want me to find out about it, feel free to come to me.”

“Thanks for the offer, I really appreciate it, because I'll linger around some more.” Reardon said the words in the most natural voice. “A lot of unfinished business. I've told Edwin and he understood” Reardon ran a hand over his face. “I'm not afraid of dying; it's only that Edwin and I had so little time together.” He stared at the librarian for a moment. “And yes, I know what you mean.”

“I wish you both could have had more time.” Brian left his seat and hugged his brother-in-law. “If you need something, anything, just let me know.”

“Just…” Reardon blinked away the tears threatening to spill. “Just stick to what we’ve discussed.” He shook his head. “I knew this moment would come, but I didn’t imagine it would be this hard.” A small smile tugged at the corners of the man’s mouth. “I’ll be back pretty soon, but it still hurts. Sorry I can’t tell you everything. It’s not the time…yet. I will…one day.”

A month had passed since the talk Brian and Reardon had had in the living room of the librarian’s house. Ten days later, on a rainy, gloomy day, he; Bart; his parents; Hennessy, his brother-in-law’s right-hand; his household staff members; and Malaspina attended the man’s funeral. Just like he did at his wedding less than two months earlier, Edwin excluded Edward again, and although his younger brother’s decision pained the librarian, he didn’t comment on it.

The image of his younger brother once he was left alone at his husband’s grave, fallen to his knees in the mud, clawing the ground while the rain poured buckets from the sky, soaking him wet, still haunted Brian. After what seemed an eternity to the librarian, who stayed behind some more, hidden from his brother’s sight, Hennessy came, helped his boss’s widower stand, and took him from there.

After the funeral, Edwin drowned himself in sorrow, and except the occasional one-minute call he gave his older brother to let him know he was fine and didn’t need anything, Brian had no news from him. Sometimes, as he once confessed to Bart, that was driving him crazy with worry, and he really struggled to keep the promise he made to Reardon.

And then, trouble emerged in the person of Kevren O’Hara, the deceased’s younger brother, who came to claim what he thought was his rightful share from Reardon’s estate. He also wanted to take over the organization his brother had built from scratch and turn into a successful venture. But he was met with the opposition of the underbosses, who by then saw Edwin as their leader.

That infuriated Kevren, the typical Irish gangster, who believed Italians are Satan's children to no end. He tried all the dirty tactics in the manual and even played the non-Irish card, to no avail. Unaffected by his maneuvers, irritated, even, Reardon’s men continued to show their support for Edwin.

In a last, desperate move, Kevren barged into his brother-in-law’s house, started to call him names, and asked him to leave. Calm, a hard to decipher expression on his face, Edwin listened to his brother-in-law’s insults, then when the man stopped to catch his breath, he gestured to the main entrance and told Hennessy to escort the unwanted guest out in case he refused to leave the property willingly. Casting a poisonous look in Edwin’s direction, Kevren walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. A storm was about to break.

*************

“Boss, Mister Hennessy, your late brother-in-law’s chief security, is here asking to see you.” Tanner tentatively cracked the door of Brian’s home office, peeking inside. “He’s accompanied by another…gentleman. Should I let him in, too?”

The librarian sensed the hesitation and sarcasm in the guard’s voice, and it made him curious to see who the other visitor was. “Of course! If the gentleman, as you call him, is with Hennessy, he must be one of Reardon’s loyal men.” The sudden coldness in the air started to prickle at Brian’s skin. “It seems my brother-in-law decided to join us.” He muttered under his breath.

“Look, Italian, call your brother and tell him to move his stinky ass from my brother's home. I don't want him there.” Kevren stormed into the room, followed by Hennessy, who gave the librarian an apologetic look. “Tell him to do it ASAP or else.”

“Well, my friend, I need advice.” Brian stared into the corner of the office where the ghost of his brother-in-law stood. “Your family, your problem.”

“Don't listen to him, please.” Reardon communicated his thoughts. “That's Edwin's house. I left it to him in my will, and Kevren knows it.”

After a few moments of silence, Brian nodded in understanding, then turned to his unexpected visitor. “No. My brother was married to Reardon, and if he finds comfort there, that is where he will stay. I have a feeling your older brother wouldn’t have it any other way.” The librarian inhaled sharply. “My only interest is what Edwin wants and what Reardon wanted. I do not care what you think about this.”

“What Reardon wanted?” Kevren huffed a bitter laugh. “How do you know that, Italian? What does a spaghetti eater like you about my brother's hard work and the sacrifices he made to have all that money and that beautiful house?”

“Tell him I will leave him penniless.” Reardon’s words echoed through the librarian’s mind. “Do you have pen and paper around?”

“Well, I prefer ravioli.” Brian smirked as he turned to Kevren. “Reardon expressly stipulated his last wishes in his will, but he wants to personally remind you what they are.” He sat at the desk, took a pen and a sheet of paper, and muttered to himself. “Ready when you are, my friend.”

“Stop going to Edwin’s house. Leave him to mourn my loss. He doesn't need you acting like a spoiled, selfish brat. My husband had it rough. He is a survivor and a fighter, and I married him because I loved and respected him. Still do.” Reardon’s words filled half of the paper, line after line.

“That’s bullshit.” Kevren huffed contemptuously when the librarian showed him the letter. “Do you expect me to buy this mumbo-jumbo? You wrote this crap.”

“No, I didn't.” Brian produced a sample of his own handwriting. “There are a lot of differences between the two styles, even a blind man would notice them.” He shook his head. “I assume you didn’t spend much time around your brother, which explains why you don’t recognize his writing.”

“I will prove you are a bloody liar.” Boiling in anger, Kevren gestured to his brother’s right hand. “Hennessy, come closer and take a look at this, please.”

“It's a letter from the boss.” Reardon’s right-hand carefully examined the document. “I saw him signing tons of documents and writing hundreds of notes, and I can say without a trace of a doubt that this handwriting belongs to the late Mister O’Hara, your older brother.”

“It can't be. I watched him write it.” Kevren violently shook his head, pointing to the librarian.

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