Scattered Ashes

  Sarah might have said more, but her cell rang and caught her attention. She checked the display and smiled. “Hello, hot, sexy, and dangerous.” Then she nodded to Michelle. “I’ve got to take this.”

  “Of course you do,” Michelle sighed. “I need to go rent movies, anyway.” She gave her aunt a parting wave and disappeared.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nick stood in the basement, sorting laundry, figuring that if he wanted workout clothes, he was going to have to wash some. He'd finished loading the washer when he looked in the corner and spotted his mom's easel standing there, the canvas turned from him.

  “So what are you painting these days, Mom?” he muttered, his curiosity getting the best of him as he walked to the easel and turned it to face him.

  Nick really didn’t know what he’d expected to find, but the naturalistic landscape in front of him wasn’t it. He frowned at the center of the work. Whatever was supposed to be there, he wasn’t really sure. It was clear, however, his mom had tried to draw many different things and changed her mind, probably at least one of those that Nick could tell was a couple. That’s when Nick spotted the picture taped to the side of the canvas. Yes, the woman in the picture was his mother. That was clear enough even though she was much younger than now. But who was the dark-hair stranger sitting next to her on a bridge?

  The mystery of it all intrigued him, and Nick thought he’d ask his mom later, maybe tomorrow. He gave one last look at the washer to make sure everything was okay before he trudged upstairs. Nicole and Michelle were about at the end of Autumn in New York when Nick poked his head into the room, his hand propped on the door molding. He stared at the screen for a few seconds.

  “Okay, now what are you two watching?” His dark hair glimmered auburn under the florescent lights. He frowned and once he saw Richard Gere’s face quickly headed toward the kitchen while calling out, “Any pizza left?”

  “The box is in the oven,” Nicole yelled. “You could sit with us.”

  Nick reappeared, pizza box in hand, and sat in the recliner. He opened the box and began eating. As he saw both his sister and mother begin tearing up, he quickly shook his head. “That’s it. Too much estrogen in this room.” He pointed to the screen. “It’s just a movie. Nobody’s really dying!”

  Michelle picked up a couch pillow and swatted her brother with it. “You might be if you don’t shut up so I can hear. You chew like a cow!”

  Nick got an evil glimmer in his eye and took a hefty bite of pizza before he leaned close to Michelle’s ear and began chewing as loudly as he could.

  “Eww, gross!” she yelled, shoving at him. “Get away from me.”

  Nick nodded as though his mission had been accomplished, and through a full mouth, he said, “I’m going to my room.”

  “Thank God!” Michelle and Nicole said in unison.

  The silence didn’t last, though. Just as quickly as Nick had vanished to his room, the front door opened again, this time admitting Sarah. She, too, took one look at the television and shook her head.

  “Oh, depressing movie night. How classy.” She leaned close and gave Nicole a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey, Sarah,” Nicole said, scooting over so her best friend could sit. “Don’t you have a date?”

  “Later,” she said, skimming her hands over the pillows on the couch. “Right now I’m crashing your movie night.”

  Without warning, she grabbed one of the larger decorative pillows and slammed it upside Nicole’s head. Nicole just sat there and shook her head. “Did you really have to do that?”

  “Yep.” She brushed the hair from her face, then swatted her again.

  “All right. That—” Nicole started, but a quick swing of Michelle’s pillow cut her off. Nicole shook her head. “What is this? Two against one?”

  “Nope,” Michelle replied, swatting Sarah on the head. “It’s every girl for herself.”

  “You’d better run,” Sarah said, rising. “'Cause you know what they say about paybacks."

  The room exploded into three females bashing each other with pillows and giggling. More than once, somebody tripped over the couch and the other two quickly capitalized on that opportunity, and toward the tail end of the pillow fight, when the three had almost completely exhausted themselves, Nick came out of his room and stepped into the perimeter.

  “What is going on?” he asked, holding his hands in the air in a questioning manner.

  The three girls looked at each other, and a silent agreement passed among them as they charged Nick, all of them swinging until Michelle just threw her pillow down and wrestled him to the couch so the other two could smack him.

  “So not fair. Three against one.”

  Nicole started laughing. “I’m your mother, Nick, and if I say it’s fair, you’d better believe it’s fair.” She wiped her hand across her forehead. “I don’t know about anybody else, but I could use something to drink.”

  Sarah nodded toward the doorway. “Yeah, that makes two of us. I need something before I go. I don’t want to go into this date dehydrated.”

  Eyes wide, Nicole slammed her elbow into her best friend’s stomach.

  “Oof.” Sarah took a step back. “What was that for? I was just saying.”

  “Yeah, you were.” Nicole agreed, giving her a dirty look that convinced her not to keep talking about future activities with Mr. Hot, Sexy, and Dangerous.

  Michelle’s cell rang and she said, “Mom, it’s Bethany. I need to talk to her.” Then she ran off to her room as the other two maintained a course to the kitchen, where Sarah plunked down at the table and Nicole pulled out two cans of soda. She gave one to her best friend and opened hers.

  “So how are you?” Sarah asked and took a long drink.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Really?” Sarah leaned back in the chair, still slightly out of breath from the pillow fight. “’Cause that’s not what Michelle thinks. She said you were upset over a picture of Jordan. So what was that about?”

  Nicole shrugged. “It’s just a rough time to be alone. I mean even Michael has his wonderful girlfriend--you know, the same one he was in love with when we were married. Go figure. Seeing that picture just reminded me there’s nobody to come home to.”

  Waving toward the back of the house, where Michelle and Nick’s rooms were, Sarah asked, “And what does that say about your kids?”

  “Nick’s a junior. He’s seventeen, Sarah. Michelle’s not fart from that. Then the house really will be empty, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Sarah reached out and squeezed her best friend’s hand. “You could call Jordan.”

  Nicole shook her head. “No. I used to want that more than anything, but something about us just doesn’t make getting together possible. He’s engaged, I’m not. I’m married, he’s divorced. I’m divorced, he’s probably re-married. I know when to say when, Sarah.”

  “So why do you keep the picture, then?” Sarah insisted. “If he doesn’t matter anymore, why not just throw it away?”

  Nicole took a deep breath. “I really don’t know.” She licked her lips and tried not to think about it. The last thing she wanted to think about was anything to do with Jordan. Sometimes memories were just too difficult. Perhaps Sarah was right. Maybe she really just needed to completely let go of the past haunting her.

  “Nic, I know you. You’ve been hiding for a long time, and you keep thinking it’s going to get easier to get back out there and let yourself feel, but it never does. You just have to be willing to jump in no matter what and force yourself to swim.”

  For the first time in a long time, Sarah saw tears forming in Nicole’s eyes, and she wondered what she could say that might help. Over the years, she’d said so many things, from “You need to move on” to “It’ll be okay.” Nothing worked.

  “You know that I never really liked Jordan. Never. But this is me telling you to call him, Nic. This is me telling you it’s not supposed to be like this.”

  * * *


  A full moon hung low in a black velvet sky which night had brushstroked with large, rolling clouds. Nicole was lying on her back, staring up at the heavens from between large branches, and the world smelled like moss and damp leaves, two things that always comforted her.

  As she sat up, she looked down at her body and found herself in a beautiful gown she'd never seen. The bodice was black velvet and tight, something she might have worn when she was twenty or so. The full sleeves and skirt were made of a white gossamer and almost glowed in the moonlight.

  Puzzled, she slowly rose to her feet and brushed her hands down her dress, worried about how the ground might have stained such beautiful fabric. She looked around her and saw a beautiful, ornate mirror, something out of a fairytale, but even the frame held little interest. No, it was her reflection that made her hold her breath.

  She was younger, so much younger. She was twenty, the person who hadn't married Michael or had two kids. She was beautiful, and Nicole shook her head, trying to make sense of what was right in front of her. What did it mean?

  In the mirror's reflection, she saw someone else standing there--a man with dark hair and eyes. Jordan. He was young there, too, and he wore a suit, almost as though both of them were guests at a wedding or something. But why were they in a forest?

  She whirled and found him there, looking at her.

  A smile touched her lips and she reached for him. "We can still be together, Jordan. We can do this. We can!"

  She waited, knowing he would take her hand. He looked at her, his expression unchanged.

  "Jordan, please!" She stretched her hand out closer to him as he smile died.

  Slowly he turned and walked away.

  Nicole jerked upright in bed. Her heart was pounding furiously, and she felt hot tears streaming down her face as pain thundered through her.

  Why was she dreaming this now? Why didn't it ever get any easier. She wiped the tears from her face and forced herself to get up. There wasn’t much point lingering in bed alone. Besides, the one thing she counted on to get her through the rest of the day was the coffee. She was shaking so badly from that dream that she almost tripped twice on her way to the kitchen. She was in the middle preparing the pot when she heard the knock at the door.

  “Who would that be?” She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to pat it into place before she opened the door. She hoped whoever it was wouldn't see the effect of the dream. That was the last thing she needed. Although she thought it might be Sarah or perhaps her mother, she did not expect to find Michael there--Michael in jeans and a sweater, looking as informal as she’d ever seen him, and that was what unnerved her more than anything.

  “Michael, what are you doing here?” She leaned against the door and tried to calm her racing heart.

  He nodded toward the house. “You mind if I come in?”

  Nicole numbly stepped back and waved him inside, the trepidation inside mounting with each passing moment. Michael never came over here. Never. So why now? She closed the door and started toward the kitchen.

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Sure.” He followed her into the kitchen and sat at the dining room table, looking at the walls. Although this had been their house years ago, the décor had changed at least two or three times, and Michael no longer seemed to fit in, or at least that’s what Nicole kept telling herself.

  “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?” she asked, filling a mug for him.

  “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He took a sip.

  Nicole suddenly laughed and filled her own mug. “Well, that’s rich considering just how much we never seemed to talk about during the course of our marriage.” She gritted her teeth and forced herself to walk to the table, even though that was the last place she wanted to be at present.

  “Still bitter, I see.” Setting his mug on the table, Michael turned his full attention to her.

  “It’s not bitterness. It’s anger, Michael, and I have a right, considering how things went.” She took another sip even though the coffee was way too hot to drink. She needed something to keep her trembling fingers busy, and right now holding a coffee mug was about the best she was going to get.

  “Yeah, well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Leaning back, Michael stretched out his long legs and took a deep breath. Nicole marveled at how he could seem to relax no matter where he was or what he was doing. It was truly amazing, and she wished just once she the power to unsettle him as deeply as he’d unsettled her on more than one occasion.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” she said, looking at her mug instead of her ex.

  “Kelsey and I are getting married.”

  It was a good thing Nicole was sitting down because the air seemed to suddenly slip from her lungs, and her whole body went weak. Grateful for that one small miracle, she closed her eyes and tried not to let her emotions go haywire. It was the "m" word, the one she never expected to hear from Michael. He wasn’t exactly the marrying sort, and she rather figured that while he might live with "her," he would never completely entangle his life with another human being's. Marriage wasn’t in his best interest.

  Now she knew the truth. Marriage with her hadn’t been in his best interest.

  “Damn it, say something, Nicole,” Michael growled, leaning toward her. His hand slid over the top of hers.

  "Gee, did you get her pregnant?"

  Michael looked away. "Yes, she's pregnant, not that it matters."

  She looked down and tried not to feel the rage building inside. She pulled away. “Congratulations, Michael. Is that what you want to hear?” Glaring, she stood and walked over to the window in the kitchen, wishing she were anywhere but in this room, where it felt like the walls were crumbling around her. It was hard to breathe, and she couldn’t bear the pain.

  Finally, something dawned on her. It made no sense for Michael to come all the way over here, something he never did, and make this announcement--not unless there was something he wanted. She slowly turned and folded her arms across her abdomen. “Okay, Michael. Out with it. I’m tired of waiting for the other shoe to hit the floor.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He took another sip of coffee.

  “Really? I’m the last person you’d ordinarily talk to about ‘her,’ for obvious reasons." She waved at the table. "Yet here you are, telling me about all your future plans, including a wedding, I presume. Why is that?”

  She waited for him to answer, but he just calmly sipped his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the tension between them. He had to feel it. He had to. She couldn’t be the only one almost drowning in this painful sea.

  “All right,” he finally conceded, his eyes meeting Nicole’s. “There is something I need you to do.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed, and she forced herself to walk back to the table and sit across from him. “So make this easy and get it over with. What do you want?”

  “I need you to talk to the kids.” He took another sip of coffee, and it took a moment for Nicole to digest what he’d said because his tone was pleasantly formal, as though she were one of his clients or something.

  “About what?”

  “Kelsey.”

  At the sound of her name, Nicole burst out laughing. He had to be joking. Didn’t he? One look at his face revealed that he was serious. “You can’t really expect me to do this, Michael. I’m your ex-wife, and you left me for her.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t be civil when it is required.” Another sip of the coffee. Right about now, Nicole wanted to throw her mug at him and watch the coffee splash all over him. He’d deserved it. Then again, scalding him would hardly improve the current ability of his brain cells to fire adequately.

  “Civilly? You want to talk about being civil?” Nicole heard her voice rising, but she couldn’t seem to control it. Michael had that effect on her. “If you wanted things to be civil between us, you never would have slept with her in the first place.”
Now she was screaming, and that immediately got a reaction from Michael. He hated when anything shattered his appearance, and if screaming did nothing else, it did that entirely too well.

  “Take it easy, Nicole.” He stepped toward her, and she knew he was going to try to calm her down. It was his freaking lawyer voice, and she didn’t want to be calm, not in her own house.

  “Don’t patronize me!” she shouted, her hands settling on her hips, challenging him to touch her.

  “Do you really want the neighbors to hear our business?”

  “I don’t care what they hear!” she yelled. “I’d much prefer the truth to image, Michael, and those kids are never going to love your mistress even if you marry her. They're smart enough to know the truth.”

  Michael started to say something else when he saw movement in the corner of his eye, forcing him to turn to see Michelle and Nick standing there. Michelle wore her robe over a nightgown, and right at that moment, she appeared the spitting image of Nicole, her arms folded across her abdomen.

  Nick leaned against the doorway, wearing a navy t-shirt and grey knit shorts. His hair stood on end. Both of them blinked at their parents. That’s, of course, when Nicole felt tears burn her eyes because what she saw in their faces was her own vulnerability—the realization that all the mysteries of their parents’ divorce had been revealed. Nicole felt deficient and useless.

  She closed her eyes and tried to summon the calm, but it refused to come, refused to answer with her heart pounding so furiously it was all she could hear. So at last she turned to Michael and said, “Well, there they are. Perhaps you might explain to them why they should be so enamored of their stepmom to-be.” She shook her head. “This is a low blow, even for you, Michael.”

  She turned slowly and cast her eyes at the floor as she passed close to her children. Nick sensed the pain and fear radiating through his mother and tried to grab her arm so he could find some measure to calm her, but Nicole ducked away from his touch and kept walking, heading to the bedroom.