She rolls me back over, looks me in the face.
“No, Sophie. You’re not. You could never be.”
“He’s gone,” I say. “He was here and now he’s not.”
“I know.” Her expression is sad, but I know she’s not sad he’s gone. She’s sad for me, and that makes it all seem worse, makes me feel all jagged inside.
“Sometimes I feel relieved because we don’t have to be scared anymore, Mom. But that’s such an awful thing to say. Then other times I just feel really angry at him. I’m never going to have a dad. I think about my graduation, my wedding, all kinds of stuff like that.”
“I know it’s hard. It will probably hurt for a while, then it will get easier. Different times in your life you may miss him more, but you will have lots of wonderful people who will be there for you during all those special events. You’ll always have me.”
“I think I should give away all his money. It never made him happy.”
“You don’t have to decide anything right now.”
I sigh and rest my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was a jerk.”
“I was really scared, but I know you’re dealing with a lot of emotions right now.” I feel her hesitate, notice the caution in her voice as she says, “I don’t like that you were drinking last night, especially when you were upset. Alcohol lowers your inhibitions, it makes people do different things, reckless things, but it doesn’t make the problem go away.”
“I know. I acted like an idiot.”
“Everyone makes mistakes. But being an adult means learning from them, apologizing for our actions if we hurt someone, and moving on. Today is a new day.”
I think about Jared again. But now I’m not feeling so ashamed, I’m feeling bad. How would I have felt if he just walked out on me? I need to text him.
“I should call Jared.”
She looks startled, like that wasn’t what she expected to hear. Maybe she wanted me to say that Jared was the mistake. Maybe she was hoping that I was going to break up with him. I feel a roll of anger in my stomach and brace for another lecture, but then she just sits up.
“I brought you coffee. Drink lots of water too. It will help.” She passes me my phone. “Come downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
After she leaves, I hold the phone in my hand for a few minutes. I don’t know what to say. How am I going to face Jared at school on Monday? Is he going to want to have sex all the time now? I read the text messages he sent this morning. You pissed off? What’s wrong? Call me! I press in his number, hold my breath as it rings. He sounds relieved when he answers.
“You okay?” he says. “I’ve been freaking out.”
“Yeah.” I lean back against the pillow and take a sip of the coffee, feel my stomach lurch. That was a mistake.
“You sure?”
“I guess. I don’t know.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you regret doing it?”
I don’t know how to answer. I wonder if my dad woke up like this all the time when he was drinking. Did he ever feel ashamed? Maybe I would have made different choices if he wasn’t dead. Maybe last night wouldn’t have happened. Then I feel angry again
“I’m just confused. Everything feels weird now.”
“Maybe we should have waited.” He sounds worried.
I think it over. Would anything have been different? Maybe it would have sucked no matter when we did it. “I don’t think anyone’s first time is great.” Delaney’s first time had been horrible. She didn’t even like the guy she did it with and doesn’t talk to him.
“Can we hang out?” he says. “I’ll pick up pho and come over.”
I pause, thinking.
“Please, Sophie?” The way he says it gives me a strange happy feeling, like something inside is bending toward him, softening. He seems so desperate to fix everything. Maybe if he came over with lunch it would help things with my mom. She’ll see that he’s caring and sweet.
“Okay,” I say. “My mom really likes those deep-fried wonton things.”
“Great. I’ll get some of those too.”
* * *
I take a quick shower and down a few mouthfuls of Pepto-Bismol. I’m feeling halfway human when I walk into the kitchen, where Mom is sitting at the island reading the newspaper. Marcus is at the other end with his laptop.
“Jared is coming over. He’s bringing lunch.”
Mom looks up. “Oh.” She pauses. “That’s nice of him.” But I see how her mouth thins, how she’s tapping her fingernail on the rim of her mug.
Maybe I’m still drunk, because I can’t just brush it off this time, can’t tell myself that it doesn’t matter what she thinks.
“Why don’t you like him?” I say. “He likes you.”
“I’ve never said I don’t like him.” Her cheeks are turning pink and I can feel my own getting hot too. Marcus is frozen, watching both of us.
“Can’t you just give him a chance?”
She lays her newspaper down, glances at Marcus. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”
“Not at all. I’ll be in my office.” He picks up his laptop and heads down the hall.
Mom looks back at me. I can see different expressions crossing over her face like she’s not sure exactly what to say. “It’s just, are you sure you want to date anyone right now? You’ve been through so much. Look what happened last night, and now he’s coming over already?”
“See. That’s what I’m talking about. If you liked him, you’d be fine with it.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
We hold gazes for a minute, and she lets out her breath in a long sigh. “Maybe I’ve been a little overprotective when it comes to Jared.” She gets up and walks around the counter, gives me a hug. “I’ll try to make more of an effort to get to know him, okay?”
I rest my head in the corner of her neck. “Good, or I’m going to throw up on you.”
She laughs, her breath tickling my hair. “I’m sorry, baby. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this.” Her voice is serious-sounding now, and I know she’s not talking about Jared anymore. I close my eyes, blink a few times.
“It will get better, right?”
“Just give it a few months,” she says. “By spring break, everything will feel different.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LINDSEY
MARCH 2017
I stand in front of the wide picture window and stare out at the lake. It’s dark, but I can see the dock and the wharf below in the lights from the house. The wind has picked up, heralding that we’re in for a stormy night. The water is choppy, and white-tipped waves slap against the shore and the side of the dock, the wind pushing at the ramp, which sways and bounces.
We can’t see any neighbors’ houses, though Marcus mentioned a few cabins around the lake. Across the water some lights glow in the distance. The only signs of life. I smile at the scene reflected behind me. Marcus is building a fire, the kindling crackling as the blaze catches.
“The house will heat up soon,” he says. I look over my shoulder, already feeling warmed by the cozy sight. Marcus sitting on the hearth and poking at the logs, his faced outlined in amber. Our damp coats are hanging by the fire, boots placed in front in a neat row.
We had to park on the road, then walk down the narrow steps to his lake house, which was built on a steep hillside, while the rain lashed against us. Angus kept his nose to the ground, inhaling all the new scents in big chuffs, almost yanking Sophie off her feet. He’s on a blanket by the fire now, his nose tucked under his tail while Sophie idly strokes the fur around his neck.
I can’t read her expression, but she’s barely said a word since Marcus picked us up at our house in Dogwood Bay. We’d moved out of Marcus’s place at the end of January and into a rental. I still remember how lost I felt that first weekend, wandering around our new home. It was cold and lonely, and I missed Marcus. The next week I in
vited him over for dinner while Sophie was out with her friends. We sat on the couch and polished off a bottle of wine, getting closer and closer with each glass. The feel of his leg against mine, his chest so close, his arm grazing against mine every time he reached for his glass, was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stop watching his mouth, how his lips quirked to the side when he smiled or laughed. A couple of times I caught him watching me, a warm look in his eyes, and his hand lingered on my leg a little too long when he was making a point in his story. He had to be feeling the chemistry.
Finally I got bold and said, “Are you ever going to kiss me?”
He looked surprised. “You want me to?”
“Do you want to?” Okay, so it wasn’t my best line, but I was more than a little drunk and out of practice. I’ve never had to make the moves before. It worked anyway. He smiled and leaned over and kissed me, his mouth warm and tasting of sweet red wine and chocolate cake.
We kissed on the couch for a while, then I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. My body felt drugged with endorphins, my legs wobbly and my heart beating fast. He left before Sophie came home, murmured against my lips, “I’ll call you.”
I woke up daydreaming about the scent of his skin, his touch, the taste of his lips, his deep laugh that made his chest vibrate, how good his shoulder muscles felt under my hands. I could still smell his cologne on my sheets and wrapped them tight around me. Then I had the panicky thought that it might have been impulse on his part. What if he had regrets? I rolled over and checked my cell and saw his text message. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Last night was amazing, but let’s do this right. I want to take you out for dinner. Is tonight too soon?
We’ve been dating for two months now. During the day we text or FaceTime, and the nights we don’t stay together, he always calls before bed. I don’t know where we’re going—we haven’t discussed our future, it’s too early, but we agreed to live in the moment. Each weekend is an adventure—a new hiking trail, rock climbing, a bike ride in the mountains, shopping the local market and cooking together, or maybe just an all-day movie marathon.
We were sitting on the couch at my place one night, legs entangled while we talked about spring break, when I said, “The three of us should go away somewhere.” With any other man, I would have waited, but Sophie didn’t seem to mind when I stayed over at Marcus’s place or when he came to our home—probably because we’d already lived with him for a few weeks.
“Yeah? Have any ideas?”
I studied his face while I thought it over. His hair had gotten a bit long, falling across his forehead. I brushed it away, smoothed my thumb over the lines on his forehead, marveling that I can do that now. It still amazed me that I’d known this wonderful man for over a year and had no idea our friendship could turn into something so special.
“Maybe skiing? The mountain is still open.”
He paused for a moment, then said, “What about my lake house? I just have to call the caretaker and check that it’s ready. It hasn’t been rented for a few months.”
“Are you sure? Would that be hard for you?”
“The lake is beautiful at this time of year. I’d like to show it to you. What do you say? Want to give it a try?” He leaned closer and whispered, “I need you there.”
I cuddled closer. “It sounds lovely.”
I was still a little nervous about how it would be for Marcus, with all his family memories, but we would build new ones together. I imagined early morning walks, a cozy fireplace, making meals together, playing board games. When I told Sophie, she asked if she could bring Jared. After discussing the ground rules—separate bedrooms, no sneaking around—I agreed, but then Friday she announced that he was going away with his friends. She said it was no big deal. “Everything’s fine, Mom.” But I think she’s more upset than she’s letting on.
I move to the couch near where she’s sitting and pull the cream-colored afghan over my shoulders. “Why don’t you check out some of the movies?”
Marcus looks up from the fire. “Help yourself.”
Sophie opens the entertainment center under the flat-screen TV, but her movements are listless, her shoulders slumped. She pulls out a few DVDs and puts them to the side. She slides in a music CD instead, then lies on the floor, arms behind her head and eyes closed.
The music is soft, romantic. I think of Marcus’s ex-wife, Kathryn, their shared history in this cabin, all the memories they must have made here with their daughter. Did they listen to this CD? Above the fireplace there’s a painting of a couple in a boat, just their backs visible, and I wonder if it might be Marcus and Kathryn, then I shake off the thought. He would’ve taken that down—even if it doesn’t seem as though he’s changed much else. The house is friendly and inviting, but definitely feminine, with a large sprawling couch, overstuffed chair, and ottoman in a floral pattern, and antiques like the mahogany dining room set that separates the living room and kitchen. None of it looks like Marcus’s taste, which is more modern.
On the main floor, there’s a small bathroom down the hall leading to the master bedroom with its own bathroom, a laundry room, and a spare bedroom at the back of the house. Upstairs there are two more bedrooms. Marcus pointed out which one was Katie’s—the door was closed. Sophie picked the other upstairs bedroom because she liked the view of the forest.
Earlier I noticed a framed photo of Katie on the dresser in the master bedroom. It was a shot of her sitting on a beach, which I assumed was on the lake. Her chin rested on her knees as she gazed out at the water. I wanted to ask Marcus when the photo was taken, but I decided to wait. This is hard enough for him, I’m sure.
In the living room knickknacks are spread around like happy little treasures, quaint owls and woodland creatures, a rustic paddle hanging on the wall. I touch the sterling silver shell jewelry box on the side table, run my fingers over the edges. It’s exquisite, shaped like a large clamshell, and obviously an antique. I pick it up and gently open it. In the center a tiny silver pearl is melded to the bottom. The metal is cool under my fingertips. Curious if the shell might be engraved, I turn it over, but the bottom is unmarked except for a small scratch.
He must have left these things so it looked homier when he was renting the house. Or maybe he had someone decorate. I’m not going to ask. I haven’t thought about Kathryn much at all since we’ve been dating—he rarely speaks about her, though I know he checks in with her sometimes to make sure she’s doing okay, especially around holidays. I’ve never felt jealous before, but something about this house makes me feel as though I’m intruding.
The lights flicker. I look up at the ceiling, hold my breath and wait for them to go out, but they stay on. We’ll probably lose power soon, though.
“Do you have any candles?”
Marcus glances up from the fire. “Good idea. Check the drawer by the phone.”
I rummage through the drawer, full of odds and ends, pens, a pack of cards, some twine, a bottle of glue, batteries, and pull out a couple of white candlesticks. I place them in the porcelain candelabra on the kitchen table, light the pillars on the coffee table. The flames weave and dance.
The warm wax smells strongly of vanilla and reminds me of the first time I had dinner over at Greg’s house—he burned the meal and sprayed vanilla everywhere to try to cover it up. I smile at the thought and wonder how he’s doing. I heard a rumor that his brother-in-law got into trouble with bad debts and Greg helped him get back on his feet. Maybe that’s why he was so distracted those last days of our relationship. He never did return my texts. I’m sure he knows I’m dating Marcus now. I wish I could explain everything to him, but what can I say?
It’s only been a couple of months, but it feels like a lifetime ago that my life was upside down and I was talking to the police almost every day. I saw Corporal Parker once at the Muddy Bean. I was picking up coffees for Marcus and me, when she came through the door. I was surprised to see her in a white Windbreaker and black running pants, her hair braided
.
We chatted while we waited for our coffees. I told her about Marcus and the lake house. I felt that I was speaking too much, but something in me wanted to let her know that I was okay. When I asked if she had any plans for spring break, she said, “Just working,” and ordered two lattes. I watched as she left the shop and got into a car with a blond woman behind the wheel. I wondered if she was another cop. Then the woman smoothed a strand of hair off Parker’s face. The gesture was tender, affectionate. Parker glanced toward the coffee shop and I spun around, feeling awkward for staring. I guess Parker kept her life private for a reason.
* * *
Sophie and I are washing dishes after dinner when the power goes out. She screams and grabs at my arm, then laughs at her overreaction, but it sounds forced.
“You okay, sweetie?”
“Of course.” She turns away and says to Marcus, “Do you have a deck of cards?”
We play poker by candlelight, then Sophie says she’s tired and gives me a kiss on the cheek as she leaves the room. I hold her close to me for a moment, then let her go.
Marcus and I have another glass of wine by the fireplace. Finally we stumble to our room and he holds me in his arms while the wind blusters outside. His breath deepens, his warm chest rising and falling under my cheek. I match my breathing with his and fight sleep for a little longer, luxuriating in the delicious feeling of being drowsy. I let my eyelashes flutter closed, and slide my hand down the side of Marcus’s body until I reach his hand. I entwine his fingers with mine. He nuzzles my neck and pulls me tight against the length of his body.
Let the storm rage all it wants, my fight is over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SOPHIE
I can hear them speaking in low voices downstairs, but I can’t make out any words, just the muted sound of Marcus’s deep voice and Mom’s soft laughter. I know they must talk about me sometimes. It’s weird thinking about Marcus analyzing me, so I don’t tell Mom much about my feelings anymore. Especially not about the nightmares where I keep finding Andrew’s body and how sometimes he opens his eyes and smiles, or how I feel all relieved until I wake up and remember that he’s actually dead. I don’t need a shrink to tell me what that’s about.