The After Wife

by Summers, Melanie

  ~ Criss Jami

  It has been a week since I returned home from the hospital. In that time, my mother has scoured the entire house, done a mountain of laundry I had no idea I even had, and filled my freezer with casseroles, lasagnas and what she calls ‘meal starters,’ which are portions of ground meats that have been precooked, spiced and are ready to use. I’m still very stiff, and my ribs ache when I move too much. The stitches on my back are itchy now, and I find myself eying Walt’s scratching post longingly.

  I’ve said nothing to Liam yet, although I’ve thought of little else. We haven’t had time alone, and I doubt we will until my mother leaves. He’s quieter this week, as he has been since his son’s birthday, and I don’t know if this is just one of those times when he has to grieve for a while, or if there is something else. As sure as I am about my feelings for him, I can’t help but be terrified that he’s guessed I’m in love with him, and that instead of this being a cause for happiness, he’s filled with dread, knowing he’s going to have to let me down soon. The possibilities of what might happen and how he may respond keep me awake half the night. It will either be a total rejection or one of the best moments of my life.

  I look for clues when he’s here. Signs that maybe he’s feeling the same way I am. But there are no glances filled with meaning. No eye contact held a moment too long. Just normal, thoughtful, warm Liam. My dear friend. And the more I study him, the more I convince myself it was smart not to say anything immediately after the accident.

  “Abby, I’m going to take off. It’s almost three.” Liam has poked his head around the corner into the kitchen.

  I smile and tilt my head in his direction. “Oh, so soon?”

  “Yup.” He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. “Almost through with the basement. Couple more days, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “No rush. I like you in my hair.” Dammit, Abby. Pull it together. “I mean, it's fine. Take your time. Or not. Whatever suits you.”

  “Okay. Bye now.” He looks thoroughly confused as he turns to leave. Not exactly the hallmark of a man in love.

  I hear the front door close, and sit, staring out the kitchen window into the yard. The colors are glorious. The impossibly red maples blend with the brilliant yellow leaves of the birch, reminding me why autumn is my favorite season. The crisp air and the warmth of the sun bring new life to the world just before it falls into a cozy winter slumber.

  My mom finally sits down to take a tea break. She pours herself a mug. “Did I tell you that Todd Blackwell got a divorce?”

  “A couple of times, yes.” I add a spoonful of honey to my tea and begin to stir it. “Also that he’s a very successful dentist.”

  “Just want you to be happy, Abby.”

  “I know.” I give her a mischievous grin that shows I don’t even mind her trying. She’s here, and even if she’s pushing the wrong buttons, I know we need this time together. “I am happy.”

  “What about Liam? I’ve noticed the way you look at him.”

  “What are you …?” My entire face flames and I will it to cool down. As much as I’m on the path to a more honest life, I can’t test that out with my mom. At least not while she’s here and has access to Liam. She’s about as discreet as Eunice driving her Ford Fiesta around town. “We’re just good friends.”

  “That’s an excellent place to start if you ask me. He’s a nice-looking fellow. Great father too …”

  “I already have a father, thanks.” I take the spoon out of my tea and lick it, which I know will drive my mother nuts. But she’s certainly not trying to avoid irritating me, so fair game in my books.

  “So that’s it then?” she huffs. “You’re just going to give up on love?”

  “I’m not … yes, Mom. I am.” Walt hops up on my lap and snuggles his forehead to my chin. I can see my mom is trying not to pull a face at having a cat so close to where we eat. I have to give her credit for that.

  “You’re never going to get married again?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Abby, you’re only forty.”

  “Forty and a quarter.”

  “Is this because of your cheek? Because it honestly doesn’t look that bad, honey. Once the swelling and bruises are gone, you’ll hardly notice it.”

  “It’s not because of my cheek, but now that you’ve said that, maybe I should be worried about it.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Mom, I know you want me to be happy, and for now, being happy to be alive is enough.”

  “So, you’ll try to find someone in the future, then?”

  “Probably not.” I shrug. “I don’t like how it ends.”

  She makes that little tsking sound that has gotten under my skin since I was a child. “No one does. Most people don’t think about that part. They just get busy making a life with someone.”

  “I can’t not think about that part, Mom. I’ve lived through it—just barely. I know how crushing it is.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should give up on the best part of life.”

  “Are you talking about sex? Because if you are, a, yuck, and b, you don’t have to be married to do that anymore.”

  “I’m talking about love. Obviously.” She puts her mug down a little too hard, surprising us both as the liquid sloshes up and onto the table. Letting out a big sigh, she gets up and walks to the sink to retrieve a dishcloth. “You can’t let what happened to Isaac stop you from falling in love again.”

  “Says the woman who’s been with the same man since she was a teenager.” I fix her with the icy stare I perfected when I was fourteen.

  She ignores my dig and wipes the table. “You know, Abby, the way you spend each of your days adds up to your whole life.”

  “Well, thank you, Oprah. Is that one of the things you know for sure?”

  “It won’t work on me, you know.”

  “What won’t?”

  “The act. I see through you, Abby. And it’s very clear that you have feelings for that man who just walked out the door.”

  I busy myself scrolling through my Pinterest feed. “Yes, it’s called friendship.”

  “Don’t waste your days wishing for Isaac to reappear. Let yourself have something wonderful again before it’s too late.”

  With that, she gets up and walks out of the room. A moment later, I hear the washing machine start up downstairs. How the hell did she find more dirty clothes? I’ve been in the same pajamas for two days.

  * * *

  Over the next several days, I work on my novel, tweaking and cutting and smoothing it out so I can send it to Lauren for her notes. I can only manage to sit at my computer for an hour at a time and it’s slow going with my right arm in a cast, but each hour is a mini-success. This morning I had a shower and actually put on real clothes, which, although normally wouldn’t be considered note-worthy, felt like a victory for me.

  Liam has gone to pick Olive up from school and I use the time to wrap up the final chapter of my book. I write a quick email to Lauren, and once I hit send, I stare at my inbox, happy but tired. I actually did it, even without my favorite editor to give me his notes.

  The smell of chocolate chip cookies draws me into the kitchen where I find my mom at the sink scrubbing the baking sheet. She and Olive have become natural allies, having complementary needs—Olive’s need to eat sweets, and my mom’s need to feed people.

  She glances up at me. “So? Did you get it done?”

  “I did.” I sit down in front of a large plate of warm cookies that have obviously been set out for Olive. Picking one up, I take a bite.

  “Good for you,” she says, crossing the room to give me a kiss on the top of my head. “Were you ever worried you’d never get it back?”

  Nodding, I say, “For a long time, I was sure it would never happen.”

  “Yet it did.” She gives me a meaningful look.

  “It’s not the same thing, Mom.” My mouth is full of gooey goodness, so I’m unable
to properly form an argument.

  The sound of the front door allows a nice, long pause in the conversation I don’t want to have. My mom wipes her hands on a towel and hurries to greet Liam and Olive. I hear his voice, then Olive’s as she shows my mother which of the feather toys is Walt’s favorite and that ‘this is how you bounce it just right for him.’

  My heart speeds up when Liam appears at the entrance to the kitchen, and I instinctively cover my cheek. “Come have a celebratory cookie with me.”

  He smiles but I can see he looks worried about me as he crosses the room. “What are we celebrating?”

  “I just sent my book to my agent.”

  Liam’s face spreads into a huge grin and he leans toward me as though he might hug me, but then he straightens up. “Good for you, Abby.”

  “Now, the hard part—waiting to see if it’s any good.”

  “It is,” he says with a firm nod. “I can’t wait to read it.”

  My face feels flushed as I realize he’s likely to figure out who Ian is.

  * * *

  Two hours later, my mom and I watch Liam’s truck back down the driveway. My mom sighs happily. “Oh, I think I’m in love.”

  “Poor Dad. He’ll be devastated.”

  “Not Liam. Olive. What a dear, sweet child.”

  “I know. She’s something else.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Liam’s wonderful too.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Better than Todd Blackwell even.”

  “The very successful dentist?” I pretend to be shocked. “Not possible.”

  She laughs. “I think it is possible. I feel like I really know Liam already. He’s just such an open and warm man. Charming. Completely charming.”

  Unlike Isaac. She doesn’t say it, but it’s there. I give my mom a kiss on the cheek and swallow the snippy comment on my tongue. “Thank you for being here, Mom.”

  She gives me a serious look. “Abby—”

  “Mom, don’t. Please, let’s just end the day on a high note. You’re not going to change my mind.”

  “I know. You’ve pretty much ignored every piece of advice I’ve given you since you were twelve.”

  “High note, Mom. Please?”

  “It’s okay for you to figure out your own path, Abby. Really it is. Just so long as it’s not fear steering you in the wrong direction.”

  * * *

  My mom is leaving today. I’m still too sore to make the trip so Liam has offered to drive her to the airport in Sydney for me. I agreed to take him up on it, then spent the entire evening making my mother promise not to try any matchmaking on the way to the airport.

  I stand at the doorway to the spare bedroom, watching as my mom packs. She’s a whirlwind of activity, quickly deciding what goes in her carry-on and what will go in her over-sized suitcase. I’ve managed to make it to the local gift shop to send home some maple syrup and red mittens with Canadian flags for the kids, my dad, and my grandma. A feeling of sadness comes over me as my mom lays her favorite blue sweater on top of her clothes.

  “Mom, I know I haven’t exactly been easy since you got here.”

  “You’re in pain. No one’s at their best when they’re in pain.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a turd.” My eyes fill with tears. “And I want you to know that I’m really just so grateful that you came all this way to look after me.”

  She crosses the room and wraps me in a deep hug. After a long, warm moment, she kisses my forehead like she used to do when I was a girl. “It’s okay, Abby. I understand. You’ve had a hard time for quite a while, and I’ve been sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong these last few days. But I know you love me, even when you’re mad as hell at me.”

  “I do.” I kiss her on her cheek. It’s soft and smooth and full of comfort. “I’ll try to come home for Christmas.”

  “Only if you’re all healed up. I don’t want you to push yourself.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine by then.”

  She gives me another squeeze. “Good. Because it’s just not the same without you.”

  * * *

  That evening when I climb into bed, I see a note on my pillow. It’s written in my mom’s loopy, perfect handwriting.

  Abby,

  It’s been wonderful to spend so much time with you these past couple of weeks. I realized this morning that this is the longest we’ve ever been alone together since you were born. Imagine that! I think we did pretty well, even if I did get on your nerves here and there.

  No matter where you go or what you’re doing, I’ll be thinking of you and, likely, worrying. That’s part of the job of mothering, and I’m afraid I can’t change that. I hope someday you’ll be able to accept that about me. I’m sure things will be a lot smoother if you can.

  Don’t forget to use the casseroles and lasagnas before they get freezer burn (they’ll be best if you eat them in the next month or so). Thaw in fridge overnight. Bake at 375° F for an hour and serve with some salad so you’ll get your greens. (Sorry, couldn’t help that one.)

  Please don’t give up on love. If not Liam, then find someone else. I know Isaac wanted you to, and it’s one of the few things he and I agreed on. You’re young and talented and beautiful, and you deserve to have it all.

  Love you forever,

  Mom

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.

  ~ Maya Angelou

  Gusts of wind have brought with them dark clouds. I sit at my desk listening as the rain starts to fall, first slowly, then with a determined roar. But nothing could ruin my good mood because I’m here in my cozy, bright office, and I’ve just received an email from Lauren titled ‘Good News. Calling You in Five.’ I get up and make myself some tea, then use a chopstick to scratch as deep as I can inside my cast. I glance at Walt, who is sitting on the floor watching me with great interest. “Ahhh, that’s the stuff.”

  I answer the phone on the first ring, using the speakerphone so I can dunk the teabag in the water. “How good is the news?”

  Lauren laughs. “How does mid-five figures sound, with an option on the next three in the series if you go ahead with more?”

  “Yes!” I do a fist pump with my left arm. “That sounds amazing.”

  “Erica loved it. She said it’s your most passionate work yet, and that nothing of this caliber has passed her desk in months.”

  I grin down at Walt. “Really? That’s amazing, Lauren. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, you’re the one who wrote it,” she says. “How are you going to celebrate?”

  “I’m going to buy a bottle of champagne and a carrot cake, and eat the entire thing, one slice at a time.”

  “You sure you might not want to share with Ian? I mean Liam?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I thought so,” she answers. “Speaking of Liam, have you womaned up yet and told him you’re passionately in love with him?”

  “No,” I say, lifting the teabag out and letting it drip into the mug. “I haven’t had a minute alone with him, but he’ll be here soon.”

  “Really? Should I let you go so you can ladyscape?”

  “No, obviously not. Nothing’s going to happen today, even if he does confess his undying devotion to me,” I say, picking up my phone and my tea and making my way to my office. “I’ll have this ultra-sexy cast for another month. Plus, my face is still reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Lauren says. “Besides, if it’s true love, he won’t care.”

  “Still, I think I should wait until the bruises are gone and the scar isn’t this angry red anymore.”

  “Abby, you got that scar saving his daughter’s life. Surely, that won’t be lost on him.”

  “It wouldn’t be.” I sit and watch the rain slide down the window. “He’s not shallow.”

  “Which is why you love him.”

  My entire body hums with anticip
ation. “Just talking about this makes my heart feel like it’s going to jump out of my body and beat its way out the door.”

  “Good for you. That means you’re alive.”

  “It means I’m terrified.” The sight of his truck pulling up makes my mouth go dry. “Oh, God. He just got here.”

  “Go! Meet your destiny, young woman,” she says. “Call me the second he leaves.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Hugs and shit.”

  “Hugs and shit to you. And good luck.”

  * * *

  The front door opens just as I reach the hall. A cold blast of air precedes Liam, and when he walks in, his dark hair is damp, and he looks cold.

  “That’s quite the storm out there,” I say.

  “Yup. Another couple of weeks and it’ll be snow.” He takes off his light brown workwear jacket and hangs it on the hook to dry. “How are you feeling?”

  Terrified. “Good, yeah. Stronger every day.”

  His eyes roam over my cheek and down to my cast, and when he looks back up into my eyes, he sighs. “I wish it would have been me.”

  “What? This?” I ask, pointing to my cheek. “Men dig scars. This is going to make me very popular down at the pub.”

  He doesn’t laugh like I hoped he would, and I can tell whatever’s been bothering him is still on his mind. He swallows hard, then says, “Abby, I think we should talk.”

  My entire body feels numb, but I smile anyway. “Sure, of course. You can tell me anything, Liam.”

  “Come here, I need to hold you for a minute,” he says, his voice low as he steps toward me. He pulls me in for a long hug, resting his lips on my forehead and whispering, “Christ, you’re perfect.”

  Perfect. I’ve never been called that before. The word wraps around my body and through to my bones, warming me. But when he pulls back, I see something is not right. I don’t want to hear it, but I swallow my fear. “What is it, Liam? Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”