Chapter Three

 And she was. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, like she was standing on uneven ground. While she didn’t have a headache, a vein in her temple throbbed steadily. She hadn’t had the time to notice it until now, but she hadn’t really been feeling so hot all day.

Sam sat her down on a chair and gave her a glass of water instead of wine. He pulled out a penlight from his pocket--did he have it on him the whole time?--and inspected both of her eyes. He had her open her mouth and say “Ahhh” so he could look down her throat. He even tilted her head back so he could shine his penlight into her nostrils.

“Sam, I’m okay,” she protested as her husband placed both of his hands on her neck and pressed his fingertips just below her jaw to check her thyroid.

“Close your eyes and count to ten,” he ordered. He waited until Rory complied. “Now open them again. Do you see tiny black dots in your vision?”

“No.”

“Are you cold? Do you feel pinpricks on the tips of your fingers and toes?”

Rory rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to even imply that she wasn’t feeling well. Sam always overreacted when it came to her health. “Well, now that you mention it... no. Sam, cut it out. I’m okay.”

“What was the date of your last menstrual period?”

Rory smacked him on the arm. He knew the answer to that. He had an app on his phone that tracked her period and ovulation. “Seriously, Sam, stop it.”

He shrugged. “I’m just trying to be thorough. You work too hard, sweetie. You’re always on your feet. Sometimes, you need to just hang out and watch TV.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“Thank you, Dr. Kelly,” Rory said dryly. “Do I have a clean bill of health?”

“Nope. I need to give you a full-body check-up later.” He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously. He was about to kiss her again when the doorbell rang. “Ah, Sunny’s here. Break out the tortilla chips. You know that girl can eat her weight in guacamole.” He left her to answer the door.

Rory sighed in relief. It’d be nice to have other people in the house, aside from the two brothers. These days she felt like a guitar string stretch taut and tight. Maybe she needed to get out more. Her friend Shannon had suggested Rory take belly-dancing classes with her. It sounded fun. She should tell Shannon she’d like to do it. Maybe she just needed other things to do. Heck, once the cupcake palace was up and running, maybe she’d stop having crazy thoughts about attacking her brother-in-law. Her mother always said it was awful for a woman not to have hobbies and pickle herself in her own house.

She took out the bag of blue tortilla chips she’d bought at Whole Foods on sale, opened it, and transferred it to a chip and dip tray shaped like a starfish. She was filling up the dip cup with guacamole when Jim walked in. She froze. His eyes darted around the kitchen before his gaze landed on her. Their eyes met.

“I hear Sunny,” he said and bolted out of the kitchen.

Rory squeezed her eyes shut and told herself to get a grip. Whatever it was she felt for Jim was temporary. She and Sam had been together forever. They were in love. There was no question about that. It was only that Sam had been working a lot, and she got a little lonely sometimes. Maybe they needed to go on a vacation and reconnect, just the two of them. Sam would say there were too many things to do at the clinic for him to go on vacation now, but maybe if she explained to him--

Explain to him, what? That she was having dirty, sexy thoughts about his younger brother? That sometimes she fantasized about stripping off all of Jim’s clothes as soon as he got home from his construction job and licking the sweat off his body? Oh yeah, that’d go over well.

Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face, picked up the chip and dip tray, and walked into the living room. Upon seeing her, her husband’s youngest sibling squealed and launched herself into her arms. Chips and guacamole would have flown and spilled all over the place if Sam hadn’t acted fast and grabbed the tray from her.

Sunshine Kelly was the female version of her brothers as far as looks were concerned. Gorgeous dark auburn hair and blue-eyed, she had the signature Kelly good looks. On top of being tall and willowy, Sunny had a pretty heart-shaped face with full, pink lips and skin the color of milk mixed with honey. At twenty-one, she still looked very much like the lonely little girl Rory had met when she and Sam first started dating, but Rory could see she was on her way to becoming her own woman.

She wasn’t surprised that the guy standing next to Sunny wasn’t a big, dumb jock. Sunny preferred the quiet, studious guys. This one was tall, lanky, and had an intellectual earnestness about him that Rory liked. He reminded Rory of Sam when they were in college. The frames of his glasses even looked like Sam’s. Rory noted their tightly clasped hands and smiled to herself.

“This is Henry Lynch,” Sunny said with a proud grin.

Sam, ever congenial, greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the shoulder as he shook his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Henry. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Henry.

“Call me Sam. And this is my wife, Rory.”

Rory shook his hand and slid a quick glance at Jim, whom Sunny had yet to introduce. Jim hung back a few feet behind Sam, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his eyes watching his little sister as though drinking in the sight of her. Rory knew how much Jim loved Sunny. Even when he used to tour with his band, he never forgot a birthday and often dropped everything to visit her. When Jim had gotten into drugs, Rory knew that it wounded Sunny deeply. She had looked up to her “rock star” brother.

Henry’s eyes darted curiously to Jim. When Sunny didn’t introduce them, Henry stepped forward and held out his hand to the other man. “Hi, I’m Henry Lynch.”

“Jim Kelly,” said her brother-in-law. “I’m Sunny’s other brother. Good to meet you.” As soon as Jim shook the other man’s hand, he returned to his place beside Sam.

Henry’s gaze narrowed as he studied Jim. “Wait, aren’t you…”

“No.” Jim’s pronouncement was flat and final.

Rory smiled at Henry for being friendly to Jim, then looked at Sunny, whose face had darkened. She understood why Sunny was mad at Jim, but couldn’t she see that her older brother was trying? But Sunny remained recalcitrant, crossing her arms over her chest and pointedly avoiding looking at her brother. Feeling helpless that she couldn’t do anything to help ease Sunny’s pain, Rory met her husband’s gaze. Sam gave her a look that told her to stay out of it. Rory bit her tongue and narrowed her eyes at him. Sam lifted one shoulder in an almost imperceptible shrug.

“Something smells good in the kitchen,” announced her husband. “Anybody hungry? I know I am.” He made a show of rubbing his flat, muscled stomach.

Rory rolled her eyes at her husband’s corniness, but she appreciated the gesture.

“I smell enchiladas,” Sunny said with a grin. She turned to Henry. “Rory makes the best enchiladas. She’s a fabulous cook.”

Rory gave the younger woman a quick side-hug. “You don’t have to suck up to me, brat. I’ll let you have seconds, anyway.”

Sunny laughed and bumped hips with her. “There’s a reason you’re my favorite sister-in-law.”

The young woman led the way to the kitchen, followed by her boyfriend. Rory reached for her husband’s hand, but Sam was waiting for Jim, who looked withdrawn and tired.

“Come on, brother. Let’s have some dinner.”

Jim pushed away from the wall, and Sam slugged an arm around his neck.

Rory sighed in relief and smiled inwardly. She watched as the two tall men walked side by side to the dining room and laughed when Sam rubbed his knuckles against the top of Jim’s head before letting him go. It was going to be alright. The knot in her stomach disentangled itself, and she could finally enjoy her evening.

Sam sat at the dining room table while she took the seat to his left. Sunny and Henry snagged the two to his right. Jim hovered with uncertainty for a moment before heading for the seat opposite Sam, which would basically place him as far away as possible from his siblings. Rory was not okay with that.

She patted the empty seat next to her. “Sit here, Jim. Keep me company.”

Her brother-in-law glanced at her dubiously but obliged her. “Thanks.”

Rory wondered if she should trade seats with Jim, so he would be sitting on the other side of Sam, facing Sunny, but she figured that would be pushing it. He and Sam weren’t entirely comfortable with each other yet, and Sunny was openly disrespectful to him. While Jim was touring, they barely saw him, and Rory never got a chance to acquaint herself with her brother-in-law till now.

Sam told her Jim composed the music and wrote the lyrics of the band’s entire discography. When he crashed and burned, the band had nowhere to go. Jim was the band. Jim possessed a marvelous voice. Soulful, with a gritty edge. More Chris Cornell, less Kurt Cobain. More Jeff Buckley, less Pearl Jam. He said he hated being compared to Chris Cornell and Jeff Buckley because they’re both dead. His other significant musical influence, Prince, had also sadly passed.

 When Jim sang, his audience felt it in their soul. He had a devoted fanbase of women, young and old, who called themselves “Kelly’s Kittens.” He was on a website’s celebrity deathwatch for two years because the public was convinced he would OD on heroin or prescription pills and die like many of his contemporaries. Rory believed firmly that he was proving them wrong day by day.

He still received residuals from televised showings of his live concerts and royalties for his thirty-eight songs, fifteen of which reached the Top Five of the Billboard Hot 100, and six of them topped the charts for months. Rory knew he shared his earnings with his previous band members because he had a Venmo account, from which he dispensed money to people like it was Pez candy.

She also knew he hadn’t touched his six-string in a year, and his violin and keyboard were in storage. How did it feel for someone born a musician and a brilliant one at that, to never make music again? Sam said Jim formed his first band when he was thirteen and started competing by the time he was fifteen. The Kelly siblings were all artistic in their own way. Sam was good with his hands and enjoyed wood-working and pottery. Jim was a musician and a painter. Sunny also sang and designed clothes in her free time.

As she has told Sam, Jim had so much to give to the world. To see him so despondent and unwilling to use his gifts was a tragedy. In response, Sam raised his eyebrow and said, “I’m beginning to think you’re my brother’s number one fan. And you get to live with him, lucky you.”

Embarrassed, Rory had stopped talking about Jim and changed the subject. In truth, she was a big fan of Jim's music. He had a presence like Jim Morrison or Mick Jagger on stage, though a lot less flamboyant. Jim didn't need theatrics. He had his voice, six-string, and the music in his heart. She used to play his albums all the time, which annoyed Sam, but when Jim moved in, she had to take them out of rotation. She preferred hip-hop and R&B these days anyway.

Along with the enchiladas, she also served sope, which she did not cook, but special-ordered from a Mexican takeout place that Sam loved. She couldn't just serve enchiladas and salad. Her mother would be ashamed of her. For dessert, she made a traditional flan, which she prepared the night before. It was Jim's favorite dessert. That's what he told her, anyway.

“…you think? Rory?”

Rory looked up and blinked to find her sister-in-law talking to her. Sam eyed her with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetie. My head’s been foggy all day. What did you say?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Girl, catch up. Sam thinks the Warriors will make it all the way to the Finals this year, but I think the Lakers will win again. Hank thinks this is the year for the Miami Heat.”

Like her, the Kellys originated from Northern California, so Sam and Sunny were devoted Warriors fans. Jim also watched basketball, but Rory didn't think he was as into it as his siblings. He did play a lot of basketball with his friends after work, though. He was pretty good, Sam said.

“If I say the Clippers, would I be driven away from my own dinner table?” Rory said tentatively, even though she didn't really follow basketball too closely. She'd been to a few Warrior and Laker games with Sam, and they were exciting to watch live, but she didn't enjoy it on TV.

“The Clippers?” Sam said with mock outrage. “How dare you. I would have allowed the Lakers, but the Clippers?” He shook his handsome head in disapproval.

Sunny also gave her a dark look. “They gotta pull this one off for Kobe, man. May you rest in power, Black Mamba.” Sunny glanced upward, crossed herself, and blew a kiss at the ceiling.

“What about you, man?” Henry directed his question at Jim, who'd been quietly eating next to Rory. “Do you follow basketball?”

Rory held her breath. She sensed the tension thrumming within Jim's taut body. These days he reminded her of a caged tiger looking for a way to get out or merely biding his time for the perfect opportunity to escape. He had the energy of a tightly coiled spring ready to pop, and it excited her. It tapped into something visceral and primal in her.

Jesus, she had a problem. A big one. All six-one and one hundred ninety pounds of him, most of it lean, corded muscle. She probably needed to see a therapist who was not Suzie. Or she should go to church as soon as possible. She hadn't gone into confession in a month because she was afraid of lying to her priest—lying by omission, anyway.

“I think the Clippers might do all right this year,” Jim answered after a moment. “But I'm from the Bay Area, so I suppose I should back my home team. You're from Florida?”

Henry nodded. “Guilty. Don’t hold that against me, though. I'm no Florida Man. I escaped as soon as I graduated from high school and got a full ride to Stanford. I’d always wanted to move to California. Are you a Stanford alum, too?”

Rory winced and placed her hand on Jim's arm. He patted her fingers and whispered to her that he was all right. Sam must have caught the exchange because his eyebrows were furrowed in concern when he met Rory's eyes.

“No. I'm the rebel of the family,” Jim said with a wry smile. “I went to Berklee. School of Music, not the UC school.”

“He got into Julliard, but right around that time, our mom was diagnosed with cancer, so Jim decided to—” Sam was saying.

“Let's talk about something else,”  Jim suggested. “Hey, bro, what's this new virus I've been reading about spreading in China and killing people at an alarming rate? A scientist in Wuhan says it might kill more people than the h*******t before it's through.”

“Oh, excellent dinner topic, Emily Post,” Sunny said with obvious sarcasm, giving her brother a golf clap.

Rory met the younger woman’s gaze across the table and glared at her in warning. Sunny widened her eyes in response but sighed and nodded. Rory had communicated with her that she was being insulting, and Sunny acknowledged it. Not that it would get her to apologize to Jim, though.

“Your other brother is a doctor,” Rory reminded her. “What, you think he doesn't tell gross-out stories while people are trying to eat? It became a sport to him and his med school pod. They'd eat dinner together and try to get each other to vomit.”

Sunny wrinkled her nose. “Eww, sick.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway, this new virus is called SARS-Coronavirus2. It's genetically related to SARS, but it's a little different. Researchers are still studying it, and there is no known cure as of yet. The first human contagion likely came about from a bat bite. It is highly transmissible. So far, the US only has three reported cases. Hopefully, we can contain it, and it won’t spread any further.”

Rory bit down on her lower lip. Sam hadn't mentioned anything about it to her, but then again, he had a tendency to keep things from her that he knew might upset her. It was one of the things that bugged her about Sam sometimes.

“Is it fatal like SARS?” Henry wanted to know.

Sam took off his glasses, cleaned it with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on. “Well, according to recent reports from the WHO, it kills one out of five people infected.”

“Oh, my gosh,” said Sunny. “I hope it is contained quickly and doesn't spread to too many people. It sounds terrible.”

“Well, the previous administration did a good job stopping the H1N1 from becoming a pandemic and left a gameplan for this administration to follow, so we’ll see what happens,” Sam said in his diplomatic tone.

Sunny scoffed with loathing. “Oh, please, if we have to count on this pres—”

“No politics talk, please!” Rory put a stop to the conversation before it could get going. Sunny was a lot more liberal than Sam, who would probably describe himself as a centrist. That was Sam all over: a diplomat.

“Thank you,”  Jim murmured next to her with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I thought I'd have to fake an illness or something just to get away from the table.”

Rory smiled at him. “You don't get away that easily, Mister.”

The rest of the dinner went by without drama, and for that, Rory was relieved. She served the flan, which everyone said they loved. As she went around the table to give everyone a slice, Sam put his arm around her waist and drew her to his lap.

“Perfect dinner as always, Mrs. Dr. Kelly.” He planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.

Sunny shared a look with Rory. “She has her own identity, you chauvinist pig. She's not just an extension of you.”

Sam released her after giving her another kiss on the temple. “Of course, she has her own identity. I'm the extension, not her.”

When the group settled in the family room after dinner, Jim did not take part. He insisted on cleaning after everyone else and doing the dishes, even though Rory said she'd do it later. She understood his need to be alone and didn't press him.

“What's with Seamus turning into Hannah Homemaker?” asked Sunny with raised eyebrows.

To Rory's surprise, Sam answered for her. “He's mellowed out a lot and helps Rory around the house when he's not at work. He doesn’t like to sit idle these days. When he's not working or doing chores, he runs up to the Peak, which is a ten-mile stretch to and fro.”

Sunny's eyes widened. “Jesus, no wonder he's lost the blubber. And I noticed that he didn't really say much at dinner. Not that he's ever been a big talker, but—”

“No one really engaged him in conversation, did they?” Rory interjected. She didn't mean to sound like a b***h, but she hated this post-mortem analysis of Jim. It didn't feel right to be discussing him at length when he wasn't around to speak up for himself. Not that he would have. Jim seemed to think that he deserved all the punishment that came his way.

Sunny and her boyfriend ended up staying the night, then headed out the next morning to join their friends in a cabin in Lake Tahoe for a few days. Rory envied them a bit. She missed packing up on a whim and just driving to somewhere random to stay for the weekend. She and Sam never really got to do much of that after he started med school, then his residency.

Later on that evening, she was in bed with Sam and found herself wide awake at midnight. Sam was fast asleep, but she couldn't get herself to rest. She climbed out of bed and put on her robe. She meant to go to the den for a glass of red wine, but when she looked out through the French doors that led to the backyard, she saw Jim sitting by the pool by himself. He was smoking.

Rory told herself it wasn’t a good idea to follow him out there, but the devil in her insisted. She brought her hand to her forehead and covered her eyes. What was she doing? She was only thirty-three, way too young for a middle-aged crisis. She had the perfect marriage with the best husband in the world. Why on earth would she tempt fate like this?

Ugh, because she’d always had a wicked streak. The damaged “bad” boy archetype accompanied by “stay away” signs with flashing lights was like catnip to her. Her mother said it’s because she was the family's caretaker, the one who fixed everyone’s booboos. Rory was the ultimate hostess, the person who went around the party, making sure every guest was having a good time, and at the end of the night, she was the one with the black garbage bag, collecting everyone’s rubbish.

Already regretting her decision, she slid open the French doors and stepped outside on bare feet. It was a warm, balmy evening, but she kept her robe on because she had nothing on underneath but a spaghetti-strapped silk nightie. She didn’t think her brother-in-law heard the door. He didn’t even look in her direction. His bare legs were in the heated pool, and he had his shirt off. Rory gulped and turned to go back to the house when Jim called her name.

“Can’t sleep, either, huh?” he said in his deceptively lazy way. He had a lackadaisical vibe about him that rubbed people the wrong way. He was once called one of the hardest-working entertainers in the music business because he produced, composed, and wrote music, but the only thing people remembered about him these days were the stints in rehab, the DUIs, and the assault conviction.

Rory pivoted on her heel to face him. He was drawing on his cigarette, and the amber tip flared in the dark. “What about your ankle-bracelet? Won’t it short out or something?” She bit her lower lip. She always felt bad about bringing it up.

“Water-proof,” he said with an ironic laugh. He flicked his cigarette, and the ash landed on the water. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it tomorrow.”

Rory hugged her robe tighter around her. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

He looked down at his cigarette in disgust and scoffed. “Yeah, it’s the one filthy habit I can’t seem to shake. I’ve cut down considerably, though. I used to have a three-pack a week habit. Now a pack lasts me a week, a week and a half.”

“That’s good.” Rory knew she should return to her bedroom and snuggle with Sam, but something in Jim called out to her. He was so… lonely. She told herself it was just sisterly concern, nothing more. She loved Jim because Sam loved Jim. She helped out people in need; that’s her M.O.

Jim lifted his head and surveyed her from head to toe. “Why don’t you sit, Aurora? You’re making me nervous with all your hovering.”