“Did you drink all these tonight?” she demanded to know as he shut his door.

“No.”

“How many have you had tonight?”

“I didn’t count.” His eyes were hard and defiant on hers.

“Do you always elude police lights and sirens?” she said, furious. “Or is tonight special for some reason?”

He opened the back door of his BMW, and angrily grabbed out a tee shirt. He had no comment as he peeled off his wet polo shirt, and yanked on the dry one. West had never seen him half naked.

“I ought to lock you up,” she said with not quite as much authority.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Randy and Jude Hammer had flown into the Charlotte-Douglas International Airport within forty-five minutes of each other, and their mother had met them downstairs in baggage. The three were somber and distracted as Hammer returned to Carolinas Medical Center without delay. She was so happy to see her boys, and old memories were reopened and exposed to air and light. Randy and Jude had been born with their mother’s handsome bones and straight white teeth. They had been blessed with her piercing eyes and frightening intelligence.

From Seth, they had received their four-cylinder engines that moved them slowly along with little direction or passing power or drive. Randy and Jude were happy enough simply to exist and go nowhere in a hurry. They drew gratification and joy from their dreams and regular customers in whatever restaurant employed them from one year to the next. They were happy with the understanding women who loved them anyway. Randy was proud of his bit parts in movies no one saw. Jude was thrilled to be in any jazz bar he and the guys got gigs in, and he played the drums with passion, whether the audience was ten people or eighty.

Oddly, it had never been their rocket-charged mother who could not live with the sons’ something less than stellar accomplishments in life. It was Seth who was disgusted and ashamed. Their father had proved so totally lacking in understanding and patience that the sons had moved far away. Of course, Hammer understood the psychological dynamics. Seth’s hatred for his sons was his hatred for himself. It didn’t take great acumen to deduce that much. But knowing the reason had changed nothing. It had required tragedy, a grave illness, to reunite this family.

“Mom, you holding up?” Jude was in back of Hammer’s personal car. He was rubbing her shoulders as she drove.

“I’m trying.”

She swallowed hard as Randy looked at her with concern from the front passenger’s seat.

“Well, I don’t want to see him,” said Randy, cradling flowers he had bought for his father, in the airport.

“That’s understandable,” Hammer said, switching lanes, eyes in the mirrors. It had begun to rain. “How are my babies?”

“Great,” Jude said. “Benji’s learning to play sax.”

“I can’t wait to hear it. What about Owen?”

“Not quite old enough for instruments, but she’s my boogie baby. Every time she hears music, she dances with Spring,” Jude went on, referring to the child’s mother. “God, Mom, you’ll die when you see it. It’s hilarious!”