by Cassia Leo
We finished our lunch in relative silence, then he refused to allow me to do the dishes, claiming he’d toss them in the dishwasher later. When we entered the living room, Boomer stood at attention.
Isaac scratched the tan fur on the top of his head. “You can pet him. That whole ‘don’t pet him because he’s a service dog’ thing is only applicable when we’re not home.”
I squatted beside Boomer to scratch behind his ears and I laughed as he began licking my face.
Isaac watched us with a huge grin. “You know, dogs are great for anxiety. It’s proven that petting a dog will lower your blood pressure and your heart rate.”
I stood up and smiled as Boomer looked up at Isaac with a serious expression, as if he was waiting for a command. “That is one good pupper,” I said.
“The best,” he replied, turning back to me. “So seven a.m. gardening lesson tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “Nine a.m. It’s my day off.”
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Part 3
GETTING DIRTY
“...you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind - and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.”
- Mark Jenkins
Chapter 19
Laurel
A few weeks later
At our second counseling session, Jack surprised me by showing up at Bonnie’s office in a suit. I loved it when he wore any kind of clothing that was snug-in-all-the-right-places. But in a suit, he looked so fucking dapper, and that tie was basically a huge arrow pointed at the bulge in his crotch. I shook my head to clear the haze of lust.
Bonnie asked if the exercises she had assigned had worked to help us open up new lines of communication. We sheepishly admitted that we hadn’t had much time to practice them since we had been living mostly on opposite sides of the world for the past three weeks. At least, Jack was able to close the deal with the Japanese app developer and arrived back in Portland two days ago.
“How does it make you feel that you didn’t get to try out the exercises?” Bonnie asked us, though she was clearly looking at me.
I shrugged. “Honestly, it was sort of expected.”
Jack laughed. “Here we go again.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and he shook his head in dismay at my childish teasing. I couldn’t help it. I was in a good mood and happy to finally get to see Jack again.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You just wait. I’ll get you back when we leave.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
Bonnie giggled. “It’s very encouraging to see you two in good spirits, even if you weren’t able to practice the exercises. How about this? Let’s do some communication exercises right here in the office. Does that sound good to you?”
I glanced at Jack and I was afraid his head would explode from all the cynical comments he was surely holding back. “Sounds good to me,” I said with a shit-eating grin.
Jack smiled. “Bring on the communication.”
Bonnie asked us to turn toward one another and say some things we appreciated about the other person. Jack surprised me by telling me he appreciated that I was fiercely trying to hold him to his word. I told him how much I appreciated him being true to his word. Then, Bonnie asked us to say something we loved about the other person.
I loved that Jack remembered all our important dates, like anniversaries and birthdays. And how much I loved that he’d made it back from Japan in time to attend the counseling session and go to the cemetery with me on my mother’s birthday.
Then, Jack looked me in the eye and said, “I love you for giving me the best eight years of my life, even the last two.”
I fell apart. I cried so long he had to take me in his arms and stroke my hair to make the tears stop.
Once I had composed myself, Bonnie suggested we each find separate support groups for grieving parents, then she asked us to try getting together to do the communication and gratitude exercises in person. I didn’t mind driving to Hood River on my days off.
I’d made good progress on the garden these past few weeks. Isaac had taught me a lot about composting and seeding and plant hardiness zones. He even trimmed the overgrown shrubs and trees for me. I was very proud of all we’d accomplished.
But I had to leave before things with my tattooed neighbor got too complicated. When I told Jack about Isaac a couple of weeks ago, he was as surprised as I was to find out that the handsome neighbor my mother had talked about so much was a real person. When I told him I asked Isaac to teach me everything my mom taught him, he wasn’t quite as amused.
I assured Jack that Isaac was very respectful of the fact I’m married. But I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t admit that, at times, it seemed Isaac wanted to be more than just my teacher.
Nevertheless, I still had two things to do before I could set the garden on autopilot and head home to Hood River. I had to put up the galvanized mesh to keep out critters, and I had to transplant my mom’s bay laurel tree into a different corner of the backyard, where it would have more room to grow and thrive in full sunlight. The trunk of my SUV was full of soil, burlap, and other things Isaac insisted I needed to ensure the tree wouldn’t die in surgery.
But first, I had to visit my mom for her birthday. I was both happy and relieved beyond words when Jack followed me to the cemetery. I would need all the support I could get.
The grave marker read:
* * *
BETH ANNE KELLER
09/13/1964 - 08/14/2015
Loving grandmother and mother,
faithful sibling and friend.
She gave her family and this world
all she had, till the very end.
* * *
I set down the bouquet of chrysanthemums Vera had assembled for me this morning. It was my mother’s favorite flower, the one she’d held when she married my father.
I wiped tears from my face as Jack arrived at the grave. “I brought some gardening stuff with me from the store. I’m going to transplant my mom’s laurel tree.” I looked up at him and he flashed me a soft smile. “This is probably going to sound weird, but I was hoping to take some dirt from both of their graves to sprinkle into the soil. Just a handful. But I totally forgot to bring a spade.”
His smile widened. “That’s what these big grabbers are for, baby. Well, among other things,” he replied with a wink.
My heart swelled as I watched as Jack, in his expensive designer suit, shoved his fingers into the slim space between the grass and the gravestone. He dug around, coming up with black fingernails and a small handful of soil.
Shoving the dirt into his pocket, he looked very pleased with himself as he dusted off his hands on his slacks. “I’ll grab a handful from Junior’s and empty out my pockets at the house.” He glanced down at his pants. “I’ll have to wash these later.”
“You? Do laundry?”
He tilted his head. “I meant I’d ask Jade to take them to the cleaners. But, hey, I’m not totally incompetent,” he replied, his gaze traveling down the length of my body. “You look beautiful today.”
I looked down at my green Sunny’s T-shirt and the faded black hoodie I was wearing. “I didn’t even get a chance to change out of my uniform. And my hair is a mess.”
“Take the compliment,” he said, shaking his head. “You look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing or how messy your hair is. Hell, remember our first Halloween party together, when you dressed up as Ursula from The Little Mermaid? And I still fucked you in the hotel bathroom that night, gray skin, fat suit, and all.”
My breath came in shallow gasps as I thought of how much I’d missed Jack these last three weeks. I’d missed the deep resonance of his voice, the way it echoed through me, making my bones ache for him. I missed the heat of his skin, how he used to laugh at me when I’d follow him around the house in the winte
r to stay close to my heat source. I missed his scent, as crisp as a mountain breeze and as warm as a wool coat, it was just like him: part gentle and part rough, but all man.
Before I could stop myself, I whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the distant traffic sounds, “I’ve missed you so much.”
The muscle in his jaw flexed as he stepped forward, closing the chasm between us, and folded me into his arms.
Oh, how I missed being held by Jack.
I buried my nose in the collar of his coat and breathed deeply. Maybe if I inhaled him, I could hold my breath and hold him prisoner at my mom’s house.
Reluctantly, I released him, and he laid a soft kiss on the top of my head as I pulled away. Grabbing my hand, he began leading me toward Junior’s grave, which was about eighty yards away, nestled under the minuscule shadow of the sapling we planted two years ago.
My mom planted a Mountain Moon dogwood evergreen tree in our backyard when I was little. She told me it was the only dogwood in our garden that wouldn’t shed its leaves in the winter, and its fruit would bring flocks of birds to our yard. I didn’t pay much attention, as she was always talking about gardening, and I mostly found it boring. But when the dogwood bloomed late the next spring, the entire canopy fluffed up with creamy white blossoms that clung to the branches longer than any of the other flowers in the garden, it became my favorite tree.
I had months to wait before this tree and the one in my mother’s backyard blossomed. But it was comforting to know that every year, when I visited Junior on his birthday — May 10th — I would find the tree in full bloom.
The gravestone was simple. With the media frenzy that followed the murders, I didn’t want to make a spectacle or attraction of his grave. A piece of polished granite was no consolation prize, no matter how beautifully carved or adorned it was. And despite the comforting thought of knowing Jack and I had already purchased the plots on either side of Junior, I would never be at peace with the idea that my son was buried under there.
I got down on my knees and closed my eyes as Jack squatted next to me. I wanted to speak to Junior, but part of me feared that speaking to him would make this more difficult. Then, I realized I didn’t have to talk to Junior when Jack was right next to me, ready and waiting to listen.
Wiping at my eyes as I opened them, I found Jack staring at the gravestone, very deeply lost in thought. His jaw was set and I could hear each breath he inhaled through his nose. I didn’t know if he was angry or trying not to cry.
“Jack?”
He flinched. “Hey,” he said, blinking furiously. “I was just thinking about the day Junior was born. I almost lost you both that day, before they decided to do the C-section.”
I wiped more tears away. “I would have died that day if it meant none of this would happen.”
“Don’t say that,” he replied in a low growl. “Don’t ever fucking say that.” He took my face in his hands roughly and forced me to look him in the eye. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left.”
I grabbed onto his wrists as I took a couple of deep breaths. “I need to leave. I don’t feel good.”
Jack knew that when I said I didn’t feel well, it meant that I was on the brink of an anxiety attack.
He quickly helped me up, then he dug up a small handful of dirt and shoved it into his pocket as he stood up and took one last glance at the gravestone. “Goodbye, monkey.”
He followed me back to my mom’s house and unloaded the dirt from his pockets, as well as the gardening supplies in the back of my SUV, onto the potting bench in my mom’s garden shed. I ignored the temptation to walk around the backyard and start pruning and watering. It seemed my mother’s hobby had finally taken root in me.
Jack and I climbed into his truck and went to grab some lunch, since I hadn’t been grocery shopping in more than a week. On the way to our favorite taco place, Jack was pulled over for rolling through a stop sign.
As he watched the officer approach in his side mirror, a smile spread across his face. “How’s it going, Ed?” he said, as the cop leaned over to look inside the car.
“Jack? What are you doing out here?” the young officer with the thin lips and boyishly-round eyes asked.
Jack glanced at me. “My wife and I are just on our way to get a bite to eat.”
He didn’t really answer the officer’s question. Officer Ed obviously knew Jack from the collaborative efforts of the Hood River Police Department and the Portland Police Department on our case. He knew we — well, Jack — lived an hour away. It didn’t really make sense for us to drive out here to “get a bite to eat.” But thankfully Ed let it go and we didn’t have to explain our current living situation.
“I probably won’t have to ticket you, but I’ll need to run your license and registration. You know, standard procedure,” Ed said with a shrug.
I reached for the glove compartment, but Jack held out his hand to stop me.
“Ed, you should know I have a concealed carry license and I have a legal gun in the glove compartment.”
My heart raced as I realized Jack had been keeping another secret gun in yet another location.
Ed nodded. “I appreciate you letting me know, even though Oregon is not a duty to inform state. You can go ahead and grab that registration.”
I closed my eyes as Jack reached across me to open the glove compartment. Once I heard the latch click closed, I opened my eyes again and watched as he handed over his driver’s license and registration.
After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Officer Ed returned with Jack’s documents and sent us on our way without a ticket.
As soon as we turned the corner, I rounded on Jack. “Why do you have a gun in your glove compartment?”
“Because I have a concealed carry license. You know that.”
“I know, but you’ve never kept a gun in your truck. You know I hate those things.”
“Relax,” he said, knowing how much I hated it when he told me to relax. “The safety is always on.”
“I don’t care if the safety is on! I want to know why you’re carrying it with you in your truck. Are you looking for him?”
He knew what I meant by “him.”
“No. It’s just for protection,” he said, but he stared straight ahead, unable to say the lie while looking me in the eye.
We didn’t speak to each other at all until we were seated in the Mexican restaurant with our food ordered and drinks in front of us.
Jack sighed. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” I replied blankly.
He stared at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he was thinking of saying “just promise me you’ll say yes.” But he had to know that now was not the right time.
“I need you to accompany me to the Halo Halloween party,” he said. “We decided to scrap the company Christmas party since half the office doesn’t celebrate. You don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to. It’s just so Kent and the others don’t think we’re broken up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can I think about it?”
He shook his head. “Actually, you know how much I hate it when you think.”
I cocked an eyebrow, clearly unamused.
He laughed. “Of course you can think about it. Just don’t take too long. The party’s in six weeks.”
“Six weeks is a long time.”
“Yeah, but if you decide not to go, I need time to make other arrangements.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Other arrangements? Like what? Do you plan on taking someone else if I don’t go?”
He didn’t even laugh. He just stared at me for a long moment, his expression deadly serious. “No.”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s a valid question.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you seriously think I would do that to you?”
I hung my head and tried not to smile. “No.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “But I will say one thing, jealousy looks
very fucking sexy on you.”
My gaze dropped, focused on the surface of the table as I suddenly felt light enough to float away. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
I looked him in the eye. “I can’t figure out how to sit across from you and not wish I was right next to you.”
He clenched his jaw, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. “I hope you never figure that out.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll go with you to the party.”
But even as I savored the warm smile on his beautiful face, I wondered how we would deal with the party. I didn’t know if I had the ability to lie about being separated. Then again, the party wasn’t for another six weeks. Maybe Jack and I would be back together by then.
Maybe we’d be back together by the end of the weekend.
This thought made me smile.
As Jack pulled his truck into my mother’s driveway behind my SUV, he reached into the cab and pulled up a bottle of some type of liquor.
“What’s that?” I asked as he handed it to me. But when I saw the label, I recognized it as his favorite bourbon.
“It was a gift from a colleague for a successful 1023 submission for Halo Foundation,” he replied.
I gasped as I looked up at him. “Oh, my God. I feel awful I totally forgot about that.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. We’ve both had a lot on our minds.”
I smiled. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you.”
He stared at me for a while before he responded. “Your opinion is worth a lot.” He turned off the truck and reached for the door handle. “Why don’t you bring that in? We can celebrate the foundation and Japan, and your mom’s birthday.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if it would be a good idea to drink with Jack. Especially since I knew he never drove after he drank, which would mean he would likely spend the night.
