Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1

by Marie Force

  I’ve put on my coat when there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find my mom standing there with a perturbed look on her face. I knew I’d forgotten something.

  “Were you going to tell me before you left town?”

  “I was planning to call you from the car.”

  “Honestly, Roni. You can’t just go to some cabin in the mountains by yourself when you’re in this condition.”

  Though I fully understand the reason for her concern, I’m stung nonetheless by her reference to my condition. Because she’s been as there for me as anyone could be since disaster struck, I bite back my initial reply, which wouldn’t have been kind. “I appreciate your concern, Mom, but I need a change of scenery.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “And I need to be alone, to think, to figure out my next steps. I just need some space.”

  “We’ve been giving you space, Roni. And if you think it’s easy to walk out that door and leave you here alone when you’re so fragile, well, let me tell you, it’s not.”

  The waver in my mother’s voice tugs at my heart. I hug her tightly. “I’m sorry to make you worry so much.”

  “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. This was done to you and to poor Patrick.”

  It is, I realize, the first time I see that she, too, is intensely grieving for the son-in-law she adored. “I’m sorry if I’ve added to your pain in any way.”

  “You haven’t. This whole thing is just… Watching you suffer this way breaks my heart.”

  “I’m doing okay. I swear. It’s awful and terrible and hard. So very, very hard. But I’m getting through it.” I pull back to look up at her. “I have a bit of good news I haven’t shared.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My new friend Sam?”

  Mom’s brow rises. “You mean the new first lady?”

  “Yep, that’s her.”

  “What about her?”

  “She asked me to be her White House communications director.”

  “Roni! Oh my God. When did this happen?”

  “I don’t remember exactly when she asked me, but it was recent, of course.” Nick became president on Thanksgiving after President Nelson was found dead in the White House residence.

  “You didn’t say anything!”

  “I wanted a minute to sit with it to see how I felt about it.”

  “And?”

  “I feel pretty good about it,” I say with a laugh that takes us both by surprise.

  When was the last time I laughed? I have no idea, but it’s been a while.

  “This is wonderful news indeed. It gives you something to look forward to.”

  “Yes, it does.” Although I wonder how I’ll ever juggle a job like that with a newborn as a single mother. But I don’t have to figure that out today. I want to tell her about the baby, but I can’t do that yet. I’ve been so sick that I need to get further along before I start telling people. I’d hate to get their hopes up only to have them dashed if I can’t pull this off. A fresh wave of grief attacks me at the thought of losing this last link to Patrick. That can’t happen.

  “When will you start the job?”

  “After the holidays, so I’m going to take this time away and regroup and get my head together before I begin this new adventure.”

  “I’m very thankful to her for offering this opportunity to you. It’s just what you need.”

  “I agree. So you see, I’m okay, and I’m looking forward to a little break from all the reminders of Patrick here.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I could move some things around…”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Will you check in every day?”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay, then,” she says with a deep sigh as she hugs me again. “I love you, and I’m so proud of how you’re handling everything.”

  That makes me laugh again because, if you ask me, I’m not handling anything. “I’m just glad no one is using me as a grief training video. Red-Hot Mess Productions.”

  “You’re not a red-hot mess. You’re the epitome of grace under the most devastating of circumstances. Losing Patrick is almost more than I can bear. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re making us all very proud.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” Fortunately, the people who love me best can’t see beneath the surface. They don’t know, for instance, that I’ve been stalking a guy in my neighborhood who reminds me of Patrick, or how he confronted me this morning for being weird and creepy. I’ll just keep that to myself for now and bask in the glow of my mother’s pride.

  She helps me carry my suitcase down the stairs, and we part company on the sidewalk with another hug.

  “I’ll be waiting to hear you arrived safely.”

  “I’ll hit you up the minute I get there.”

  “And if you need anything, even in the middle of the night, call me.”

  “I will. Thank you for being my rock through this, Mom. I mean it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “That’s not true. You, my sweet Veronica, are the strongest person I’ve ever known. You always have been, and you’ve shown me that over and over again through this.” She kisses my forehead. “Be kind to yourself, my darling. That’s what Patrick would’ve wanted.”

  Her sweet words bring tears to my eyes as I nod. She’s right. Patrick loved me so much. He would’ve wanted me to be happy and content. I just need to figure out how to make that happen without him.

  4

  Roni

  The first hour of the drive is rough in the car that smells like him and reminds me of a thousand outings with him at the wheel and me riding shotgun, usually with his hand on my leg when he wasn’t shifting the gears. Thankfully, we spent an entire Saturday after he bought the car with him teaching me how to drive a stick. I didn’t want to do that, but he insisted, almost as if he knew there’d come a day when he wouldn’t be there to drive me around.

  I wonder about that sometimes. Did he know his days would be numbered? He was a stickler about things like life insurance and estate planning. What thirty-one-year-old cares about stuff like that? My husband did, and I suspect it was because he had a hunch of some sort, not that he ever shared that with me. That would’ve freaked me the hell out, and he knew it. But he took care of the details that now take care of me as I mourn his loss.

  I love him so damn much for ensuring I’d be all right without him.

  My bank account has never been in better shape, with enough to live comfortably for a number of years should I choose to forgo working. Although, that’s not an option because I have no idea what I’d do with myself without work to keep me busy. The money Patrick’s insurance provided will help to pay for daycare or a nanny and will make it easier for me to be a single parent to our child. That thought is every bit as overwhelming to me as it was yesterday, even after another vicious bout of nausea has come and gone for the day.

  I still can’t believe I’m pregnant and had no idea. That’s another thing that would’ve been inconceivable—no pun intended—prior to disaster. I would’ve noticed that I missed not one but two periods. I feel like I’m emerging from some sort of deep fog to find that everything about the life I once treasured has changed. Patrick is gone. I’m pregnant. I’ve been offered the job of a lifetime at the White House. I’m driving Patrick’s car without him. What is this life I’m left with, and what am I supposed to do with it?

  That’s the burning question that has me pressing on into the Virginia mountains on Interstates 66 and 81, arriving at a gorgeous “cabin” (if that’s what you can call this incredible house) at Lake Moomaw. I like that name. I keep saying it out loud, putting the emphasis first on Moo and then on Maw, the way Patrick and I would’ve done if he were here. We joked about everything. Nothing was off-limits, and a name like Moomaw would’ve been thoroughly dissected.

  I miss him desperately. We would’ve had so much fun here together.

  I ca
ll the number Rebecca gave me, letting the property manager know I’ve arrived.

  “Be right over,” she says in a chipper voice before the line goes dead.

  When I get out of the car, I stretch out the stiffness of the four-hour drive and breathe in the cold, crisp mountain air. The house sits right on the shore of the lake, with a dock out front that calls to me. I wander along a stone path that wraps around the house and leads to stairs to the dock. I stand there for a few minutes, staring out at the vast lake, and feel myself relax the way I always have around the water.

  When I hear a car door close in the driveway, I make my way back up the stairs to greet the property manager, a woman named Chelsea Stowe.

  “Oh, there you are,” she says, smiling when she sees me coming. She has blue eyes and curly brown hair that’s covered by a knitted hat with snowflakes on it. I figure she’s a couple of years older than me, but mid-thirties tops.

  “Couldn’t resist the urge to poke around a bit.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. I’m Chelsea.”

  I shake her outstretched hand. “Roni.”

  “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

  I follow her to the front door, where she punches in the code that I was given.

  She leads me into a warm, cozy space with a spectacular view of the lake in the back of the house, which is all windows. “I came by earlier to turn up the heat a bit. We keep it warm enough to protect the pipes when there’s no one staying here.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “This is one of my favorite houses in the area. The Renfrews were meticulous when they built it and included so many amazing features. Such as…” She walks over to pick up what looks like a remote control for a TV and shows me how to close blinds I didn’t even notice on the back windows. “So you won’t feel like people can see inside at night, even though there’s no one out there.”

  “There’s always a chance the Loch Ness monster will show up.”

  “That’s true,” she says, laughing.

  I’m relieved to know I can close myself in at night. She shows me how to light the gas stove and gives me the 411 on how to use the wood-burning fireplace before we head upstairs to tour four huge bedrooms. “I set you up in the main bedroom with everything you need—extra blankets, towels, etc. But do let me know if I forgot anything.”

  “This is great. Thank you, Chelsea.”

  “Here’s my card in case you need anything. It’s got my landline and cell. Sometimes cell service can be spotty up here, so make sure your family has the landline number. I left it on the counter in the kitchen. And I also grabbed a few groceries for you, compliments of your sister Rebecca.”

  “Aw, that’s so good of you both. Thank you.”

  “I just want to say… I’m really sorry for your loss. It’s just so heartbreaking.”

  “Yes, it is, and thank you.”

  “I hope this getaway will help.”

  “It already is.”

  “I have a fun group of friends here in town. We try to get out for a drink at least once a week. If you’d like to join us, we’d love to have you.”

  “That sounds fun. Let me know when, and I’ll see if it’s a good day.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be in touch, and please do call me if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks again.”

  After Chelsea drives off with a toot and a wave, I retrieve Big Bertha from the car and lock the front door. My footsteps echo in the big house as I move around, making myself as comfortable as I ever am these days. Following the directions Chelsea gave me, I start a fire in the fireplace and sit back to watch it catch.

  If Patrick was here, he would’ve done that, but now I have to do everything myself, which is another thing I’m getting used to. He doted on me, made life as easy for me as he possibly could while I did the same for him in every way I could. As I watch the fire consume the kindling, I wish for the millionth time that I’d made it to the grocery store on the last night we had together. For the rest of my life, I’ll have to wonder if he’d still be with me if only I hadn’t been lazy at the worst possible time.

  Recalling my promises to my mother and sisters, I get up from the thick carpet in front of the hearth and retrieve my phone to send a message to our family group chat along with photos of the view and the fire crackling in the fireplace. Arrived at the lake. The house is gorgeous. Please pass along my thanks to the Renfrews, Rebecca. I appreciate this getaway so much.

  Penelope responds first. So glad you got there okay and that it’s great. Keep in touch so we don’t worry about you!

  Glad to hear from you, Mom says. Dad says to be careful and have fun.

  I will! Nothing to worry about. Feels good to have a change of scenery. Xoxo

  Rebecca responds only to me. Great to hear the place is nice, and I’ll pass along your thanks. I want to talk to you about something else when you get a second. Call me when you can.

  Maybe it’s a sign that I’ve turned some sort of corner with the initial shock of Patrick’s death, but Rebecca’s message makes me curious about something for the first time in longer than I can remember. I put through a call to her.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean right now if you have something better to do.”

  “I don’t. I’m sitting in this gorgeous house with a fire going and the sun setting on the lake.”

  In the background, I hear the baby crying. “I’m green with envy,” Rebecca says. “Thank God Jeff is home to deal with them for a minute.” She lets out a gasp. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “What? Why? Of course you’re happy he’s home after being alone with them all day. Don’t do that, okay? It’s not your fault that Patrick is gone. You have every right to enjoy your husband and family.”

  “I just don’t want to be a jerk about it.”

  “You’re not. Please don’t dance around me like that. I can’t handle that. Let’s keep it real.”

  “I will. I’m sorry. My hormones are insane, and I find myself crying over everything.”

  “I get it. No worries. What did you want to tell me?”

  “Do you remember my neighbor Iris whose husband was killed in the plane crash a year or so ago?”

  “I do.” He was traveling for work on a small corporate jet that went down in a storm, killing him, two of his colleagues and the two pilots. “How’s she doing?”

  “Good days. Bad days. Her kids keep her busy, but it’s a lot.”

  “How old are the kids?”

  “Two, four and six.”

  “Ugh.”

  “I know, but she called me the other day because she wants to get in touch with you.”

  “With me?”

  “Yes, to tell you about a group she belongs to for young widows that she thought might interest you. She said it’s been a godsend to her and has connected her with people who truly understand what she’s going through.”

  “That does sound interesting, although I’m not sure I’m ready for something like that.”

  “Iris said to tell you it’s there for you whenever you need it or not at all. She just wanted to tell you about it in case you thought it might be helpful. She said it’s been a lifesaver for her and that she’s made a bunch of new friends who truly understand the journey she’s on in a way that no one else in her life ever could.”

  The thought of that appeals to me tremendously, but I need to think about it before I do anything. “Text me her contact info, and I’ll reach out to her if I’m feeling it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Thanks for that, for this getaway and the groceries. You’re the best.”

  “I wish there was more I could do for you. I’d give anything…”

  “I know, and that means a lot to me.”

  “Anything else new that you want to tell me about?”

  For a second, I think she means the baby, but how could she know about that? And then I remember I told my mom about Sam and the job offer. “Mom told
you about the White House.”

  “Holy shit, Ronald. How have you been sitting on that bombshell?”

  “What would’ve been a big deal before is just another thing now, although that’s a pretty good thing.”

  “She is the coolest. I have the hugest girl crush on her, and her husband is h-o-t.”

  “Is he? I haven’t noticed.”

  “Right… Sexiest president we’ve ever had. Everyone I know is so excited about them being in the White House, and my baby sister is going to work for her! It’s crazy. You’re going to take the job, right?”

  “I am, but not until after the first of the year.” That reminds me I need to give my notice to the Star, which pains me. My bosses and colleagues have been incredibly good to me since my life imploded. I hate to think of having to tell them I’m leaving.

  “This is so cool, and I’ll love her forever for giving you something new to focus on.”

  “I will, too. She’s pretty great.”

  “I can’t believe you’re friends with her.”

  “Only because Patrick died.”

  “True, but still… It’s cool that you know her and will be working with her.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I say with a sigh.

  “What is it?”

  “The same old thing. I’m excited about the job, but everything is less exciting than it would’ve been before.”

  “As awful as it is right now, I have to think it won’t always be this bad,” Rebecca says tentatively, as if she’s worried about saying the wrong thing.

  “I’ve read that the pain is always there, but it becomes less lacerating over time. I’ve just got to put in the time to get there.” I want so badly to tell her about the baby, to give her and the rest of my family something wonderful to look forward to, but I’m superstitious about sharing it too soon. Maybe after the ultrasound, I’ll tell people.

  “You’re doing great so far. I’d better go rescue Jeff. They’re making him their bitch.”

  That makes me laugh. “Not my precious niece and nephew.”

  “They’re terrorists this time of day. I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. Please tell Iris thanks for reaching out to me. I’ll be in touch with her at some point.”