Catch Me Twice

by Charmaine Pauls

  I lean forward to kiss his jaw, rubbing my nipples over his chest as he nips the tender skin of my neck. I grab his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin as he picks up his pace. We’re both panting, our chase for release desperate when his phone vibrates on the nightstand.

  “Ignore it,” he grunts.

  I want to say the call must be important, seeing it’s early, but he rolls his hips to hit a sensitive spot. I cry out, everything else fading until my ringtone disturbs our moans.

  I still. Just like that, passion and desire evaporate. Trepidation fills me. Something happened. I push on Jake’s chest to get off him and crawl over the bed to grab my phone from the nightstand. I don’t know the number that flashes on the screen. Swinging my legs from the bed, I press the phone to my ear and answer with a breathless greeting.

  “Kristi?” a male voice says. “This is Dr. Santoni.”

  Oh, my God. “Is it Noah? My mom? Did something happen?”

  In a flash, Jake is at my side, the warmth of his body a welcome support where it presses against mine.

  “I need to speak with Jake. He’s not answering his phone. Your mom said you’re with him.”

  I clear my throat. Anguish makes my chest shrink. “He’s right here. Hold on, I’m giving him the phone.”

  Jake frowns as he takes the phone and greets the doctor. He listens quietly, his face growing paler as he continues to listen without speaking. Finally, he says, “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the trouble.”

  He cuts the call and stares at the phone in his hand.

  “Jake.” I touch his shoulder. “What happened?”

  He drags a hand over his face and stares through the window to where the first rays of the sun are breaking over the horizon. “It’s my mother. She had a stroke.”

  I clasp a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”

  His voice is distant, flat. “She didn’t make it.”

  Chapter 20

  Jake

  The honeymoon is over. Kristi and I pack up in a hurry and tackle the long road home. Our marriage is in a delicate place, our new beginning still fragile, and already we’re thrown back into the clutches of reality, as cruel as it can get.

  I can’t stop thinking about how my mother and I parted, about the last things we said to each other. Not wanting to lay the ugly burden on Kristi’s shoulders, I keep this part of the grief to myself. Regret has no place at a funeral. Regret is personal. Selfish. A funeral is about the deceased, about paying respect as honestly as one can. I disapprove of what my mother had done to Kristi and Noah. I can’t forgive her for that, not even in her grave. There was a time I was close to my mother, but it was long ago. The bits and pieces of what I can remember about those better times constitute my earliest memories, of having toast and tea at the kitchen table on Saturday mornings while she listened to a radio broadcast. Her attention wasn’t focused on me, it was on the broadcast, the news followed by recipes she’d scribble down, but she was, for that short period of time, in the same room as me, and it made me feel warm.

  As I became older, we drifted apart. A television replaced the radio in the kitchen, and cereal came into fashion. The final blow came when I told my mother Kristi was going to have my baby. After all her preaching and warnings, I’d turned into the son she’d hoped I’d never be. Despite the embarrassment and disappointment I caused, she didn’t disown me like my father. She left the factory and all her assets to me. I’m not sure if it was because she reserved some of her maternal love for a son lost to the sins of the world or if she simply didn’t have a choice. After all, I’m her only living relative. Who else could inherit the accumulated riches?

  Kristi and Gina are amazing, supporting me with the funeral arrangements, the packing up of my mother’s house, and the logistics of putting it on the market, while Eddie takes care of feeding us. I never knew he was such a good cook. I have no choice but to resign my job as restaurant manager before I’ve even started and hastily familiarize myself with a business I swore I’d never run.

  The only highlight of this bleak and daunting time is my family and especially our reunion with Noah. Since Kristi is staying at home for the moment, we take him out of the crèche. That little man makes me look forward to coming home after a trying day at the factory. Kristi makes me never want to leave.

  The trailer is bursting out of its seams with the four of us—Kristi, Noah, Gina, and me. The minute we’re more or less back to normal, I organize the move into the new house on the outskirts of Heidelberg. There’s my childhood house, but I don’t want to build our memories on the foundation of the bitter disappointment and hurt I suffered there. Kristi and I move into the master bedroom, keeping Noah’s crib in our room while we wait for the bed we ordered for him to be delivered, while Gina and Eddie move into the guest quarters.

  We get along without being under each other’s feet while carving a new routine for ourselves. Everything else is a challenge. Town gossip is in full swing. Everyone knows Kristi lost her job because she ran off with me, which is an undeserved stain on her reputation. She acts like it doesn’t bother her, but I don’t miss the way her shoulders tense when people whisper behind their hands every time she walks into a room. There are the Jans, Kallies, and Britneys who seem to take pleasure in the sensational scandal, while others like Nancy and Steve give the support that makes me glad we can call them friends. They offer rides and meals and help with our move, all the neighborly stuff I’ll never take for granted again.

  Those same people judging Kristi have gone from despising me to kissing my ass. The motivation? Money. I’ve gone from dropout to millionaire overnight. If my father could see me now, he’d cry big, ugly tears of vengeful joy. All he ever wanted was for me to be more like him. He’s gotten his wish. I’m overseeing the factory he built up by stepping on others along the lengthy way to success. I’m even sitting in the same chair behind the same desk.

  I can’t lie.

  I hate every minute of it.

  Kristi

  With the funeral behind us, I drive to Luan’s house in the brand-new car Jake bought for me and knock on his door. Unannounced. I doubt he’d let me see him if I called, and he needs to hear what I have to say.

  He opens the door with a frown that turns into a scowl as he takes me in.

  “Hey, Luan.”

  His voice is cold. “Kristi.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “All right.” I look around. The curtain in the lounge of the house opposite the street where Mozie lives lifts. “How are you?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Don’t be like this. Please.”

  “Don’t be upset? What do you want me to be?”

  “Reasonable.”

  “You ran off with the man who abandoned you, losing not only your job but also the future I offered. Is that reasonable?”

  “May I at least have a chance to explain?”

  “I’m not interested. Not any longer.”

  I sigh. “Look, I’m really sorry things didn’t work out the way we planned. I know you don’t believe me, but I truly didn’t know what Jake’s plans were. You can ask my mom.”

  “She knew about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then this whole situation is even more screwed up than I thought.”

  “I came to tell you I’m sorry about us, but also that Jake and I are together.” I swallow. “I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

  He crosses his arms and says with sarcasm, “Jake must be happy.”

  “I realized there’s still something between us, and that’s the other reason I’m here, to say thank you. If you hadn’t broken up with me, I never would’ve given Jake another chance.”

  He snorts. “Now you believe he deserves one?”

  “I deserve another chance at being happy. I just wanted you to know I wish you the same, and that I’m thankful for the job and help you’ve g
iven me over the years.”

  “At least we didn’t make our plans public.”

  “Yeah.” Luan wouldn’t have lived down the humiliation of being dumped for Jake. I offer a handshake. “Friends?”

  He stares at my proffered hand. “I don’t believe we can go back to friendship. That ship has sailed.”

  Dropping my arm, I nod. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I respect your decision. Goodbye, Luan.”

  The door slams in my face.

  Jake

  We have an Indian summer in May. June and July bring a mild winter. My efforts are focused on my family and making our new home comfortable, but there’s still much to do. We need beds, sofas, and desks. I didn’t want the overly formal furniture from my parents’ house to bring the bad memories attached to them into our happy environment. Those material items represent everything I loathe. I want to start with a clean slate.

  We buy beds in Johannesburg and have them delivered. Kristi falls in love with a kitchen table and chairs in an antique store. The next day, I load them onto the back of my new truck and drive them home. I’ll do anything for her, anything to make her happy.

  The hunt for sofas drags into August as I get busier at the factory. I’m a young owner, some say too young, and I have high expectations to live up to. There’s always more to learn and more to do. I’ll be honest. There’s no way I can handle it all by myself, which is why I’m pathetically grateful for the manager my late mother employed. The guy is motivated, but we keep on clashing heads about the vision I foresee for the future. I don’t want to be my father. Money isn’t everything. I want to give the employees better working conditions, better salaries and fringe benefits, but the CFO disagrees. I appoint a few advisors, people I can trust, and together we go through the painstaking process of mapping out new objectives, a process that isn’t exempt from internal conflict.

  After another day of playing catch-up with the manager, I go in search of Gina and find her packing the vacuum cleaner in the broom closet.

  “What do you say we call it a day?”

  She checks her watch. “Give me five. I have to lock the kitchen.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I go to the parking and lean against the car, watching the other staff members knock off for the day. Gina follows a short while later, her bag in one hand and lunch box in the other. I take the lunch box and throw it in the backseat before getting her door.

  “You know you don’t have to work any longer,” I say as I start the engine. “I have enough money to take care of all of us.”

  She snorts and crosses her arms. “What about the day you’re no longer around?”

  “Wishing me dead, already?”

  Her forehead pleats into a frown. “You never know what’s going to happen.”

  I know what’s going through her head. She may have helped me to escape with Kristi, but she’s still not sure of me, not one hundred percent. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good.” She looks me up and down. “It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, what you’re doing, for us.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Just prove to me you’re not an ostrich, because an ostrich can’t change its feathers.”

  I smother a laugh. “I’m sure that’s not how the saying goes.”

  “Did you get what I was trying to say?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter how the saying goes.”

  I love this about Gina. As long as the message came through, she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about semantics. She’s right. It’s not about the words. It’s about the intention.

  “If you insist on working until retirement, we can find you something else at the factory.”

  “Like what?”

  “What interests you?”

  “I don’t want people to say I’m getting special treatment.”

  “Do you really care about other people’s opinions?”

  She thinks for a while. “I’ve always thought it’s fun being a tour operator.”

  “It’s a brick factory, not a travel agency.”

  “Exactly my point. What we want and what we have to do to survive aren’t always the same thing.”

  I ponder that for the rest of the way home. The sudden career I’ve been flung into isn’t what I would’ve chosen for myself, but I’m not going to be ungrateful for a means of providing for my family.

  When we pull up at home, Kristi is playing with Noah in the garden. They come up to greet us, Noah running straight into my outstretched arms. I turn him in a circle, inviting a breathless giggle.

  Tickling his tummy, I ask, “What did you do today?”

  “We baked cookies,” Kristi says.

  Holding Noah in one arm, I put the other around my wife’s waist and pull her against my side to kiss her lips. I bury my nose in her neck and inhale deeply. “Mm. Smells delicious.”

  She flushes a little, her gaze going to her mom. “They’re chocolate chip.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the cookies.”

  Gina shakes her head and cuts over the lawn to the front door. “I’m making coffee if anyone wants. I’ll be heading over to the shop later to help Eddie count stock. It’ll keep us busy until late, so we’ll just grab a pizza for dinner.”

  I press another kiss to Kristi’s lips. “Seems I’ve got you all alone tonight.”

  “I heard that,” Gina calls back. “TMI.”

  The minute the door shuts behind my mother-in-law, I kiss Kristi like I meant to, until her knees buckle and Noah starts to squirm. Reluctantly breaking our embrace, I take in her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes shining. She looks happy, and that makes me ecstatic. Being a housewife agrees with Kristi. She loves baking with Noah and potting around in the garden. She’s uncomplicated and easy to please, happy in her own skin.

  “I love you,” I say on a sudden bout of emotion.

  Her gaze sharpens. “How was your day?”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Happy?”

  “I’m always happy to come home to you.”

  “Are you happy at work?”

  “We don’t always have to like everything about a job. Said so yourself.” I take Noah’s hand. “What do you say we play a game of rugby before dinner?”

  He swings around and runs as fast as his short legs can carry him to the crate at the back where we keep the balls and kites, stumbling in his haste. I shoot forward when he goes face down into the grass, but he picks himself up and carries on without as much as a chirp.

  Chuckling, I turn to Kristi. “Do we have time for a quick game?”

  “Dinner won’t be ready before seven. Nancy is coming over in a bit to help me unpack. I still have a few boxes left.”

  I steal one last chaste kiss before going around the back of the house to where a little person smiles at me as if I’m his whole world.

  Kristi

  Nancy arrives with a wedding catalogue and swatches of fabric samples under her arms just as my mom leaves.

  She dumps everything on the kitchen table. “I can really do with your input. It’s all so confusing. I can’t decide between apricot or lilac.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Wine.” She opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle of white, and pours two glasses while I tackle one of the boxes filled with Elizabeth’s crockery.

  She hands me a glass before picking up one of the plates and studying the hand-painted border. “Doesn’t it bother you to keep this stuff, knowing the woman hated you?”

  “You shouldn’t speak like that about the deceased. I’m sure she didn’t hate me. It must’ve been hard for her to accept that Jake went for someone who wasn’t worthy of her son in her opinion. Besides, I think it’s important for Jake to keep some of the things he grew up with. He won’t miss it now, but he may as he gets older.”

  “Jake doesn’t strike me as the
sentimental type.”

  “It depends.” He kept a smooth, white stone I’d given him in exchange for a marble in second grade, and one of my hair elastics. I found them while I was packing up his room in his parents’ house.

  “How are things going between you?”

  “Good. Great, actually. We’re still finding our feet after the funeral and with Jake getting involved in the factory.”

  What I don’t mention is the niggling worry at the back of my mind that Jake isn’t happy in the job he’s inherited. He could let the manager run the business without getting involved, but it’s not a feasible option in the long run. As the owner, he needs to understand the business and not only be on top of all changes and situations, but also provide the necessary direction, something Elizabeth hadn’t done and that’s already showing in last year’s losses, at least from what Jake told me.

  Nancy waves a finger at me. “You better not get pregnant before my wedding. The maid of honor dress is already cut.”

  “We’re not planning to, at least not for now. Noah has had a lot of adjustments to deal within a short space of time.”

  “Not to mention, the two of you need time together. Let’s face it, you didn’t have much between falling pregnant and Jake leaving town.”

  The ring of the doorbell cuts our conversation short. Strange. It’s close to dinnertime. In a small town like ours, it’s considered rude to pitch at this hour without calling first.

  Nancy glances down the hallway. “Expecting anyone?”

  “Could it be Steve?” I ask, leaving my glass on the table and making my way to the door.

  “Nope,” Nancy says, following in my footsteps. “Said he wouldn’t swing by until six-thirty. Unless he’s early?”

  I open the door and pause. On the step stands a brunette with a baby in her arms. It’s not the fact that the tiny bundle can’t be more than a month old, or that, with her exotic looks, she’s obviously not from here that renders me speechless, but the suitcase standing at her feet.