“Which was?” Olivia smiled as she took another sip.
“I can’t sing.” She grinned.
“It’s true, she really can’t.” Jake nodded sagely in agreement. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any beers?”
“Sure.” Olivia nodded toward the refrigerator.
“Anyway, that’s not the only respectable thing about me,” she continued as she pulled a delicate chain from the neck of her scrubs, upon which was a gold wedding band.
“You’re married?” Olivia’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, to Tommy Linden.”
“Why does that name sound familiar.” Olivia frowned.
“We went to school with him,” Louisa replied. “Back then, he was a cute, dark-haired boy, bit shy.”
“I think I remember him.” Olivia squinted, eyes distant as she tried to recall her classmates from decades ago. “Vaguely.”
“Well, he hit puberty and went from the cutest boy in class to the hottest guy in school.” Louisa grinned.
“Hey,” Jake objected as he popped the cap on his beer.
“You don’t count.” Louisa gave a dismissive wave.
“Apparently,” he grumbled and lifted the bottle to his lips.
“Why didn’t you bring your husband tonight?” Olivia asked. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
“He’s serving a tour.” Louisa stared down at her glass.
“So, are you feeding us then?” Jake interrupted.
“Sure.” Olivia placed her glass down and stirred the pot of simmering sauce. “I still can’t get over it, a doctor and a cop. Your parents must be proud.”
“Yeah, they are, I guess,” Jake answered as he leaned back against the counter and sipped his beer. “What about you?”
“Research mainly. I’m a historian and author. I specialize in witchcraft and the occult, most recently the witch trials of Europe and early America.”
“Wow,” Louisa replied. “A historian, just like your da–” She cut herself off abruptly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.” Olivia sighed. “I knew the subject of my parents would come up sooner or later.”
“We don’t have to talk about it, Olive.” Jake shook his head. “It’s none of our business.”
“It’s fine, honestly.” Olivia scooped the spaghetti into dishes, keeping her hands busy, her stomach hurting like it always did when she thought about her parents. “Go ahead and ask. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”
Louisa topped up their wine glasses. “What do you remember? About… that night.”
Olivia concentrated on serving up the meal, not looking at them and somehow that made it easier to answer.
“Being inside the house,” she murmured. “The smoke, the fire… but most of all, I remember my father standing over my mom’s body…” Her voice trailed away lost in memories. “There was so much blood…”
“Jesus, Olive,” Jake swore. “I’ve seen my fair share of terrible things doing the job I do, and I can tell you now, no kid should ever have to see that.”
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t really think about it much anymore, or at least, I try not to.”
“What happened after that?” Louisa sipped her wine as she watched her friend in sympathy.
