Chapter 4

Light shone from the kitchen, surprising Mike when he entered his house after saying good night to Lisa. His parents were usually asleep by now, and he headed down the hall, wondering briefly at their change of routine but dismissing it as inconsequential. No one involved with the Delaneys had remained fixed on normalcy. His own thoughts focused almost entirely on Lisa, especially now. Their earlier conversation had shaken him up more than he’d let on. He’d hated leaving her alone with her imagination. They’d made a pact about discreet behavior, however, and he’d stick with it, unless she changed her mind.

His mom and dad smiled, then yawned, their mugs of tea on the table half-consumed. A familiar scene. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Mike poured himself a glass of milk and sat down. “I think we’ll come out all right next week. Lisa will get the kids.”

Silence was the only reply. His mother squeezed his arm, earning his closer attention. He examined her face and saw how a month of grief and worry had taken its toll. Dark circles under her eyes, lines around her mouth where none had been, hollows beneath her cheekbones. She’d lost weight. His usually trim mom couldn’t afford the loss. He glanced at his dad.

“She needs to eat more. Some whole grain...” The words left his mouth before he realized his dad looked no better. William’s robust complexion appeared sallow, and his normally high energy level a mere memory. Both his parents had aged during the last month, and suddenly, a frisson of fear arced through Mike, causing him to choke on his drink. His parents were mortal, too. Dear God…if he reacted this strongly to a shadow of possibility, how was Lisa able to cope at all?  

His dad patted Mike’s back, then his hand as though Mike were still a child. “Milk. A good choice for a growing boy.”

He stared at his worried father and bit back his immediate retort. Joking would be better. “If I grow any more, Dad, I’ll be a linebacker, not a QB. But we both know that’s not going to happen. I’m done in the growing department. I’m not a boy anymore.”

“But you’re so young…” Irene protested, shaking her head and looking as though she’d cry again.

“I’m a man,” he said, “with man-size responsibilities. You’re the ones I’m worried about. Maybe you need some sleeping pills…?”

“Your mom and I will be fine,” William said quickly. “We, uh, just need a little more time to…to adjust.” He shook his head, murmuring to himself, before looking at Mike again. “We did wait up for you, though, to discuss...the future. It can’t be put off any longer.”

Mike leaned back in his chair. “Lisa and I have already discussed everything, but if you have any good ideas, I’m listening.”

“You know we love Lisa and the children,” Irene said. “We still can’t believe Gracie and Robert...” With a trembling hand, she reached for the ever-present tissue box. “Well...you know.”

Yeah. He did know. Just being with Lisa and the kids reminded him without a word being said. The Delaney house was eerily quiet now, all the noise of family reduced to whispers. Shadows marked every face, eyelids blinked hard. He glanced at his mom’s tissues. In the house across the street, similar boxes sat on tables in every room except they were in different colors. He noticed details like that. A quarterback had to notice physical details and behavior. He had to know his team well, had to read them as easily as he read the sports pages in order to be a good leader. Everyone said he’d been born with those skills, but he still had to prove them.

“But, Mike, you are our son.” 

“What?”  His folks stared at him with puzzled expressions. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

His dad sighed. “Focus, Mike. We’re talking about Lisa and the kids.”

He focused.

“You’re our son,” William repeated, “and it’s our job to protect you. And the truth is, Michael, you need protection now. You need time. Time to think.”

“Lisa, too,” Irene said quickly. 

Where were they going with this? “There’s nothing wrong with my brain, Dad.”

“Well, let’s see…” William began slowly. “You’re on the cusp of an extremely demanding career, an exceptionally physical career, and a public one, at that. You’re still proving yourself, and if you’re distracted on the field by personal problems, you not only could be hurt, and hurt badly, but you’d also let your teammates down, not to mention the coaches who believe in you. You won’t even be twenty-three until June. Too young to handle that NFL spotlight as well as this huge tragedy.” William stared in the direction of the Delaney home. “Frankly, I don’t know if there is a right age to handle this, but if there were, I don’t think it would be twenty-two.”

Mike pushed his glass away and stood. “You must have been brainwashed by Lisa’s aunts and uncles. Well, forget about them. You know I’ve loved Lisa from the moment we met. And she loves me just as much. That’s all that matters.”

“Oh, your feelings are not an issue,” his mom said quickly, and for a moment, he was comforted. “We’re just suggesting you wait awhile. That’s all.” Irene rose from her chair and hugged him. “Give Lisa and the children a chance to settle in. The little ones have just returned to school, so let them find their way. And then figure out what you want to do.”

Nice in theory, but he was dealing with real people who needed him immediately. A family who needed a clear plan to regain their equilibrium. “I’ve already figured it out.” He took a breath. “Our plans have changed. We’re getting married this summer, before my preseason exhibition games in August. We’ll move to Boston immediately after the wedding. Even you have to admit that a hundred-mile commute to Woodhaven each day is more than I can handle.”

His folks stared at him as though he’d spoken Chinese.

“So soon...?”  His mom’s trembling voice ended in a squeak.

“This isn’t about the driving!” protested William. “It’s too much responsibility. All of it. You’re both too young. And you’re not financially ready. Wait a year or two, until you’re a starting player, until your career’s more established. We’ll help. We’ll be right here for the children if they stay together, right here on Hawthorne Street.”

Mike grabbed the back of his chair and leaned toward his parents. “Lisa and I discussed the same thing... She wanted to break the engagement. Wanted to ‘set me free.’”

They hadn’t known. How could they? Their curiosity, surprise, and incipient hope revealed in their expressions showed him where their feelings lay. He had to set them straight. “Breaking up with Lisa will never happen. She’s the only one for me. Always has been. If I postponed our lives now, she’d feel abandoned. I won’t do it. She and I have to begin by depending on each other.”

“But…but she mentioned applying for a teaching job at the high school,” said Irene. “And I just learned someone in the history department is going on maternity leave March first. Lisa can probably step in and get a full-time assignment for next year, too. Teachers are always coming and going.”

He didn’t question her facts. His mom was one of the secretaries at the high school. A source. “Lisa’s licensed by the commonwealth and can work anywhere,” replied Mike. “She’ll find a job in Boston if she wants to work, but I’m going to make sure she goes back to grad school as soon as possible.” 

He headed toward the stairs, then paused and turned back to his parents. “I know you’re trying to help, and I love you both. But if you can’t be supportive in court next week, then stay home. Please.”

#

Lisa rapped her knuckles on the kitchen table during breakfast on Saturday morning, the last day of February—two days before the court hearing.  

“Family meeting,” she announced. 

“Huh?” Brian tilted his face toward her, confusion evident, milk and Cheerios plopping from his spoon.

She smiled at her little brother, an imp who could coax a laugh from the most solemn people, and scanned the circle of faces. “Now that I’ve got your attention”—she took a breath—“here it is. We go to court on Monday. We don’t know what the judge will say, or if he or she will even make a decision right then.” 

She’d done some research on family court procedures and adopted the mantra of “forewarned is forearmed.” She’d be ready to handle the possibilities—soften a blow, argue a point, or explain the judge’s ruling—even a postponement—on a child’s level. 

She could hear them breathe. Each one individually, from Emily’s quavers to Jen’s controlled inhalations. 

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Lisa added, stroking her youngest sibling’s hand. “But I’m thinking we need a plan in case the judge sends a social worker to the house.” Another strong possibility.

Jen scowled. “We don’t need any social worker...”

“That’s beyond my control,” said Lisa. 

“And don’t talk that way to the judge,” said Brian, his eyes wide as he stared at Jen. “He won’t like you, and then…then he’d give you to Aunt Sally, and…”

Emily began crying. “No, no, no.”

“Enough!” said Lisa, noting her imp had a vivid imagination. “No one’s going to Aunt Sally unless the judge thinks I can’t handle the four of you.”

Quiet reigned for a moment until Andy asked, in his thoughtful manner, “But can you handle us, Lisa?” And because identical twins were not necessarily identical in every way, and her brother deserved an honest response, Lisa said, “I don’t know for sure. But I’m going to try my hardest.” 

Andy nodded once, his eyes solemn. “When I grow up, Lisa, and make a lot of money, I’m going to give it to you for school. So you can be a lawyer again.” 

“Me, too,” said Brian. “Hey! I got an idea. You take care of us now, and we’ll take care of you later.” 

The boys fist-bumped each other; their faces, alight with eagerness and pride, as though they’d discovered gold, made Lisa laugh so hard she hurt. She grabbed them around, kissed them until they squirmed away, carbon copies once more—at least at that moment.

Jen reached for a pad and pencil. “We have to clean the place up today and keep it clean.” She pointed at her brothers. “Including under your beds and your closet floors. Then we all have to sort the laundry in the basement and put it away. From now on, every Saturday is linen change and laundry.” 

“Thanks, Jen. I’ll do the meal planning and shopping.” Sudden fatigue slammed Lisa as sleepless nights caught up. “I-I really can’t do everything by myself,” she whispered. “Even Mom, who could whip up a meal in five minutes, had us help her…”

“She used to call you her lieutenant,” said Brian, “didn’t she? Before you went to Boston.”

Your lieutenant still needs you, Mom.  “She did. She sure did. And now, you’re all my army…I guess. Because if we’re to live on our own, in a proper way, everyone needs to help out.”  

She nodded at Jen’s automatic note-taking. “Mom always said between your organizational skills and math skills, you’d rule the world.” 

Jen’s unexpected sobs came slowly at first, then heavy and hard, a sorrowful song with no end. Once more, Lisa realized that raw emotions could high-jack them anytime and anywhere. But hopefully not in court. 

#

Lisa wore a suit and low-heeled pumps for the court appearance. Professional attire. If she dressed the part, she’d have an edge. If the judge ruled against them, it wouldn’t be her fault. Living defensively—thinking defensively—was becoming a habit.   

She sat directly in front of the judge’s bench, the little ones between her and Jen, who sat at the far end. Each child was scrubbed, shiny, and neat. Jen was at her best, no talk of emancipation. There was too much at stake to be flippant.

Mike had driven them to the courthouse and now sat directly behind them, in the same row as her aunts and uncles, while his parents sat several rows back.  

The judge, a woman, had been pretty smart so far, asking the kids about school and sports and what they liked best. Either a getting-to-know-you process—which seemed to work—or a gaining-trust process before the killer questions came. To Lisa’s surprise, however, the judge called upon their relatives next.

As she listened, she winced. She had to admit her aunts were eloquent and sincere in expressing their love for their sister’s children. Their homes and wallets were open to them. They made it sound like fun. The twins would be little brothers to their older cousins. Jen and Emily would have full attention of two loving adults whose own children were away at college. Her uncles confirmed every idea, demonstrating couples united in their plans.  

Andy squeezed her hand. “I don’t like this,” he whispered.

Lisa studied each sibling. They might have been young, but they weren’t stupid. Their collective brave front was back, the judge’s prior friendly conversation forgotten. Identical pale complexions revealed freckles in startling relief, and her heart sank for them. Two losses! If the judge was truly swayed by their aunts’ presentation… 

Oh, God, she couldn’t bear the kids’ pain. She had to be proactive.  Nothing else mattered. Not law school, not money worries, not cleaning a house, not lack of a car, not Mike, not anything except keeping the family together. 

When her aunts and uncles headed toward their seats, Lisa stood. “Your honor, my relatives may have good intentions, but my sisters, brothers, and I have something to say, too.”

Jen rose. “We have a lot to say.”

Emily raised her hand. “I cleaned my room, even under the bed.”

The judge grinned. “I bet you did a great job.”

The child nodded. “And so did Brian and Andy. Lisa said boys have to clean, too.”

“Smart sister,” said the judge.

“I know,” said Emily. “She’s old enough to be smart.”

Lisa heard the laughter and the sob from her aunt Pat and wanted to gather sweet Emily into her arms and hold her forever. She’d bet her aunt wanted to do the same. 

The judge gazed at Emily and smiled. “Are you finished now?”

“Okay. But I want Lisa.” 

“I’ll write that down,” said the judge, holding up a pencil.

Emily’s smile melted Lisa’s heart. She turned to the judge.

“And I want them all.” She took a breath. “Your Honor, in your years on the bench, you must have witnessed an extraordinary array of family circumstances. Custody battles, abuse, neglect, drug use, foster care. Issues that needed resolution in a court to ensure the safety and well-being of the children involved.” She paced three steps to the right and looked up again. 

“We Delaney children may not be an ordinary family, either. But we are safe. We are a healthy family, with a home and a full refrigerator. And as Emily indicated, we’ve gotten the chores worked out, too.” She walked back to her starting point.

“But a family is about more than chores. It’s about love and loyalty and knowing where you come from.” This time she stepped toward the bench, closer to the woman with the gavel. 

“The five of us in the first row are the children of Grace and Robert Delaney. Our hearts are broken. Oh, God, how they’re shattered! But we share common memories of them. And when we do, we cry and we laugh. But I think that’s okay. 

“We share what we’ve learned from them. Hard work, education, and music. You should have heard my dad sing. To say we miss our mom and dad terribly is too mild a statement. But here’s my point—we are their family even though they’re no longer with us here on earth. I know they’d want us to stay together. And we want to make them proud.”

She was drained, had no more words to offer. But then heard one quiet word from the second row.

“Bravo.” Mike’s voice. Her eyes met his, and she saw the pride, the gleam. She knew she’d done her best. And if she had, her life was going to change forever in every way imaginable. Her stomach twitched as butterflies danced a wild tarantella. 

#

She’d spoken from her heart and head, but before the judge called a recess, she asked questions. About today, tomorrow, and the future. About the engagement ring on Lisa’s finger and Michael Brennan, who was in the courtroom. About his relationship with Lisa’s parents.  

“Her folks made me welcome, and once we were older, I promised her dad that I’d treat her like gold.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I intend to keep that promise.”

“Thank you,” said the judge before banging her gavel.

One hour to mingle with her relatives, hear their pleas to reconsider, and then take hope as they assured her of support if the judge ruled in her favor. “We won’t abandon you, Lisa. We love you. We only want what’s best for all of you.”

Mike’s parents had joined them. “We do, too,” said Irene, “and we think   your ideas make more sense. Lisa’s capable, but our son’s career is just starting. How can he give the time and attention four grieving children and a new wife would need?”

Silence among her relatives. 

Surprised silence from Lisa. Mike hadn’t said a word to her about his parents’ attitude. Was this something else she’d have to deal with?

“Your point is noted,” said Mike. His nostrils flared but his tone was controlled. “As is your presence. Why did you ignore my request to stay home if you couldn’t help?”

Irene reached to touch him. “Don’t be angry. Grace and I were so close, but we never spoke about a possible tragedy like this. She was a fierce mother, however, and she’d want what’s best for her children.”

“Do you have an insight that we don’t?” asked Sally.

Irene shook her head. “Sadly, no. I don’t know what they’d want. I don’t know what’s best for their children. I only know what’s best for mine! And it’s not…not…this.” She waved her arm to encompass the youngsters. 

Jen’s complexion whitened, her expression blank. Brian had turned his back. Andy studied his mom’s friend, and Lisa swore she could hear his gears turning. But it was Emily who asked, “Don’t you like us anymore?” 

“Of course she does,” said Lisa quickly. “It’s just that she loves Mike more. He’s her son.” A door clanged shut in her mind. No support from the Brennans. Despite all the food trays, visits, and words of encouragement, when crunch time came, the Delaney kids hadn’t made the cut.  

The judge reappeared, and everyone returned to their seats, first standing and then sitting as directed. The woman rattled some paper and nodded slightly at Lisa before addressing Jen, Andy, Brian, and Emily.

“I listened carefully to what you told me, and I heard you. You each said you want to stay together even though you have wonderful choices with relatives who love you. Is that right?”

Four heads nodded. Emily said, “I love them, too.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Emily,” said the judge. “Keeping families together is the court’s greatest goal, if at all possible. Your sister”—she turned toward Lisa now—“has argued her points eloquently.”  Focusing again on the children, she said, “So, I want you all to help her. Keep your rooms clean, do your homework, and behave. Or Mr. Brennan will toss you into the end zone.” 

The boys giggled and looked back at Mike, their eyes adoring. Mike was becoming their go-to guy, and Lisa understood she was going to gain custody of her sisters and brothers. 

She’d accomplished what they’d all wanted. And yet, with that realization, a bone-chilling fear swept through her, as cold as an Arctic wind, and the butterflies danced again. 

Her parents had made it look so easy, but in the last month, Lisa had learned that caring for her siblings would be difficult, physically and emotionally. Only yesterday, she’d been a teenager herself!

The judge stared at her. “You’re very young and inexperienced to take on this responsibility, Ms. Delaney, but your brothers and sisters trust you. The court, however, is uneasy about simply dismissing this case—this family—into the world without supervision. Therefore, a social worker will be assigned to monthly home visits for the next six months.”

The order seemed reasonable. Had Lisa been the judge, she might have done the same thing. 

Her Honor leaned forward. “Ms. Lisa Delaney—the court has decided that you, and you alone, will be granted legal guardianship of your siblings until each of them reach majority age of eighteen years. The court realizes that Mr. Brennan cares about the children. Perhaps one day he’ll be their brother-in-law. However, at this point, he will not have legal authority. The issue may be revisited in the future at your discretion.”

She understood. Any legal involvement for Mike would have to be initiated by her. 

The judge resumed. “It is the court’s hope that from the pain and chaos of loss, a family will be maintained and grow stronger over time. Your relatives support you, which is not a small thing. The children will need all the love and reassurance they can get. And so will you.

“And as an aside, Ms. Delaney, it is the court’s opinion that you will make an excellent lawyer one day.”

Lisa’s breath caught. She blinked back tears as a ray of hope brightened her heart. One day…one day. For herself. For her parents. She’d make them proud. 

The judge lifted her gavel. “The four minor Delaney children remain in the custody of their adult sister, Lisa Delaney.” Bang, the gavel spoke. 

Terror, relief, happiness, worry… It was done. 

Mike’s kiss melted her freeze. “We’ve got them,” he whispered. “We can do this, Lis. We’ll give them as happy a life as we can.”

Not the legal guardian. His big heart was in the right place, but the bottom line responsibility would be all hers. “Thank you, Mike. I’m so glad you were here. I love you.”

“I know,” he whispered, just before her aunts approached with tears and hugs. Big hugs. 

Sally looked at Lisa, then at Mike. “It will be harder than either of you think, tougher than facing your fiercest opponent, so remember there’s no shame in asking for help. If the road gets too rough, promise me you’ll call. We’re really just a phone call away.”

“Thank you.” Lisa’s voice trembled. “I will…I will.”

Her aunts looked upset, sensitive to her every nuance, and Lisa forced a smile. “We’ll be fine. I’ll make mistakes, but I’ll try not to make them twice.”

“’Atta girl. We’ve had enough doom and gloom,” said Aunt Pat in a lighter voice. The woman whipped a checkbook from her purse and began writing. “This is a little cushion from Uncle Ted and me. You’ll need it.”

“Money goes fast,” said Aunt Sally when Lisa began to protest. “That emergency fund your neighbors started won’t last long. You’ll need to set up a budget. A strict one. So, here’s a little more to help out.” She started writing, too.

“I’ll help her with a budget.” Jennifer stepped forward. “I’m taking an accounting course in school this year as an elective. And I sure like money.”

Lisa chuckled, glad for the comic relief. Jennifer would be an asset. She weighed every purchase she made with her own earnings as though it were a question before the United Nations. “I-I don’t know what to say,” Lisa stuttered. “Just thank you. Thank you so much. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed...”

“Not in you, Lisa.” Sally’s voice quivered. “Just…I guess…in life.” The woman glanced out the window, avoiding everyone’s eyes, simply shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it…”

Lisa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the loving woman. “Neither can we, Aunt Sally. Neither can we.”