“All right, you can go,” I say. “But you have to check in with me twice a day, or I’m coming to town and moving in with you.”
“Horrors!” she exclaims. “I’ll check in every hour if that’s what it takes to keep you away.”
Aurelia snaps her fingers impatiently. “Okay, but you have to go now. Come on. Pack up your stuff. We’re leaving.”
Celeste races upstairs to the guest room to gather her things. I walk the others out to Aurelia’s BMW while Joe stays behind to clean up the kitchen. “I know you’re in a hurry, but drive carefully,” I say as I hug Aurelia good-bye.
She laughs. “I’m the best driver on the road.”
I turn to Bonnie and take her in a hard embrace. She feels more fragile to me, as if her bony body has endured more blows this week than she can easily withstand. “You take care of yourself,” I whisper in her ear. “You let me know if you need anything.”
She doesn’t even ask me what I mean. Trust Bonnie not to indulge in pretense. “I’ll be fine,” she says. “Eventually.”
I turn to Alonzo. “You, too,” I say. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“And call Celeste now and then. You know.”
“I will,” he says again.
I hug him, and for the first time in his life he hugs me back.
I’m still recovering from the shock of that when Celeste comes running out of the house, waving wildly and shouting, “Wait for me! Wait for me!” It’s all for show, and it makes me laugh, and I laugh harder when she slams into me. She squeezes me tight, lets me go, and lunges for the car. “Love you!” she calls, waving from the window. Then she points to the house. “Marry him!”
There’s a general chorus of assent from the other occupants of the BMW. Aurelia even rolls her window down to say, “Couldn’t agree more!” Then she backs up and takes off down W with barely a spit of gravel.
I trudge back to the house feeling simultaneously lighter and heavier now that all of them are gone.
In the kitchen, Joe has just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping the table. “Are you the perfect man?” I inquire.
He smiles and comes over to take me in a loose embrace. I lean against him and feel, for a moment, content and free of worry.
“I am,” he says. “’Bout time you noticed.”
“My friends love you.”
“Better if you loved me.”
His voice is so casual that it’s a moment before what he says has registered. Then I feel my veins prickle with heat and my breath grow shallow in my chest. I lift my head to meet his eyes.
“I do love you,” I say firmly.
He kisses me swiftly. “See how easy that was? I love you, too.”
“You haven’t even seen me change yet,” I remind him.
“Change? But I like you just the way you are!”
I free a hand to swat him on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
He grins. “I know what you mean. But I’m not worried about it. After what I’ve seen and what I know—” He shrugs. “I think I’ll take it in stride. I don’t think it’ll faze me at all.”
“And you won’t even see it happen very often,” I say, “unless you’re out here all the time. I mean, like, maybe, if you were living here.”
“Living here,” he repeats. “Now that’s an idea with a lot of merit.”
“The dogs like it here.”
“They do.”
“And you’re very handy to have around.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“And think of all the money you could save on rent!”
“The primary reason I would consider such an idea.”
I look up at him a little anxiously. I can tell he’s teasing, but sometimes he uses humor to cover his real feelings. “I mean, no pressure,” I add. “It might be too soon to even talk about.”
He drops another kiss on my mouth. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up,” he says. “I didn’t want to seem too pushy. Didn’t want to overstep my bounds.”
I wrap both arms around his neck. “No bounds at all,” I whisper. “Let’s do this up right.”
* * *
It’s around midnight that night when I think to check e-mail for the first time in days. Joe’s sound asleep, but I’m restless, so I prowl through the house double-checking all the doors and windows before I settle in the kitchen and make myself some tea. I’ve brought in my laptop, so now I set it on the kitchen table and log in to my account. Among the inquiries from clients and the junk mail from advertisers, I find a new message from Janet’s mom:
I don’t want to alarm you, dear, but it turns out I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors seem confident that they can treat it with surgery and no radiation, but I have to say it’s made me start thinking hard about all the unfinished business in my life. And my daughter is the most unfinished business I have.
I know you’re not Janet. I’ve known for a long time. But it comforted me so much to hear from someone who knew her that I’ve just let the charade go on. I suppose you could be some kind of shyster, lying to me for no good reason, but I’ve always thought you must be somebody kind. Somebody who understood how hard it is to maintain relationships with the people we love and who thought it was worth trying anyway.
And now I just thought I’d ask—will you tell me the truth? Will you let me know what happened to Janet, and who you are, and what you’re really like? I just want to know. The older I get, the less I care for secrets. And the closer I get to death, the less patience I have for lying.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Love,
Nina Kassebaum
I read this extraordinary letter three times before I take another sip of tea. And then I sit there for another half hour trying to decide how to answer her. How much do I tell her about Cooper? Because Cooper is the heart of Janet’s story. Nina might be tired of secrets, but this one has never been up to me to reveal.
I can’t tell her the biggest part, the most unbelievable part, I finally decide, but I can give her a version of the truth. I can tell her that Cooper was an artist—I can send her one of his original paintings of Janet, which I think she’ll cherish very much. I can tell her that he had a medical condition that kept him mostly confined to the house and took his life too young, and that Janet had let grief send her, too, into an early grave.
I can let her know that despite her short, isolated, eccentric life, Janet experienced deep passion and fierce joy. She had figured out how to wrest happiness from her unconventional existence—she knew what it looked like to her and what she had to do to keep it.
As I intend to do. As I believe I can. I will gather my friends tightly around me and hold on, and never let go, and never give up. I will love without fear and face change without trepidation. I will start celebrating the gifts life brings me, no matter how bitter, on some days, they seem. And I will never, inside the curse, stop searching for the blessing.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND THANKS
To Tami Beckeman, who patiently provided me with insights into being a vet. And cooked the meal!
To Rachel Neumeier, who came up with some cool ideas about shape-shifter science.
(It’s not their fault if I didn’t always listen to what they said.)
And to Ginjer Buchanan, who was my editor for twenty years. Thanks for the great advice, the wonderful dinners, and the always-entertaining conversation.
Sharon Shinn, The Turning Season
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends