Scattered Ashes

by Maria Rachel Hooley

At that, Sarah glared at her, not quite believing what she’d just heard. Was Nicole truly that insane? Jordan didn’t even have a place in her life anymore. He shouldn’t even have been calling her because they were really anything but platonic friends. There had been something between them from the first, and no matter what, there was still something between them. There would always be something between them.

  Nicole probably would have continued the conversation just to spite her best friend, but when she heard another call coming in, she pulled the phone back and checked out the display to find out the caller was Michael.

  “Look, Jordan, I’m sorry, but I have to go. Michael is calling, and I need to talk to him.” A pause. “Okay. Bye.”

  Nicole disconnected and handed the phone back to her best friend. “Talk to him. Tell him I’m asleep or something.”

  “Nic—"

  “Please.” There was something deep and hurt in Nicole’s eyes and Sarah knew that it probably had to do with Michael always being gone and suddenly Jordan being divorced. She knew there were difficult currents, but she wasn’t sure how to help her friend navigate. In the end, the only thing she figured she could do was the take the phone as she was asked.

  “Hey, Michael. Where’ve you been?” Sarah stared at her friend as she started to pace the room, holding both the baby and the cell as Nicole looked out the window, her expression suddenly unsure and fragile. Sarah glanced at her. “No, she’s asleep right now. She was in labor for a few hours, and now she’s exhausted.” Another pause. “Yes, Michael. She had the baby. Without you. Next time check your damned messages. Better yet, stay home.”

  Sarah disconnected the phone and silenced it, knowing Michael would probably call back, not that either of them felt much like talking to him. Sarah set the phone on the table and kissed the baby’s head, taking comfort in his sweet baby smell. Although she wanted to say this was all about Michael being stupid, she knew better. Although Nicole and Michael had at first seemed perfect for each other, there were subtle indicators that things had gone wrong. Now, for the first time, there was a noticeable tear in the fabric of their marriage which neither of them could downplay. Sarah doubted that Michael would see the error of his ways. He’d always put the job first, but Nicole recognized that there was something wrong on a much deeper level.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jordan had been driving around for about an hour and had yet to arrive anywhere. He wasn’t even sure where he thought he had was going. Probably he was just going through the motions of having somewhere to be before he drove to his parents' house. He hadn’t seen them in a few years—not since he and Alyssa had moved to Kansas, as a matter of fact--and that had been long before everything in Jordan’s life had blown up.

  His parents were expecting to find him happily married and working on starting a family, not divorced with no kids. He raked his fingers through his hair and pulled into a small coffee shop, just another way of stalling, no doubt, but he wasn’t ready to face all the questions he knew he couldn’t answer. Could anyone put into words the reasons for a marriage’s demise? Sure, perhaps it had had something to do with not being able to have kids. Maybe that had been the fault line. But there had to be more, and there was. It just wasn’t something Jordan thought he could find a way to sum up. And did the reasons really matter? Would knowing them precisely change anything? No, it wouldn’t, so Jordan would rather take the cowardly way out and slip into the shop, grab some java, and read the newspaper so that when his mom decided to gossip--and she would--he would be prepared for all the details.

  Jordan looked at his watch: 10:07. He scanned the empty shop, grabbed a newspaper from an empty table, and took a seat in a back booth. He’d no more than sat down when a waitress walked over with a pen and pad.

  “Can I get you something?” She was an attractive blonde, totally not Jordan’s type, not that he was even remotely looking for his type considering the way the last relationship he’d had had played out. Nonetheless, here she was, peering at him with big blue eyes and a smile that said she wanted more than to take his order. Of course she did.

  Trouble was, he didn’t.

  “Could I get a cup of decaf and some cream, please?” he asked, unfolding the paper.

  The waitress nodded. “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Nope. That’ll be it. Thanks.”

  He looked at the paper, pretending he didn’t see her lingering there as though waiting for him to ask for her number or something else, and after a minute she eased away, leaving him to read in peace before setting a cup of coffee in front of him along with some cream.

  Around him, he heard the typical sounds of any eatery—pans clanging, grease sizzling, people chatting. Normally Jordan would have been distracted by it, but today, he just kept replaying the last conversation he’d had with Alyssa—the day she’d told him she wanted a divorce. She'd said it wasn’t all about not having kids, but she'd refused to go into detail. He didn’t believe she was cheating on him, and he damned sure wasn’t cheating on her, so what did that say for marital vows? Did anything last anymore? He wasn’t sure.

  He started scanning the headlines, only taking half an interest in the words he'd read before moving on to the next section. He came to the obituary section and started to flip the page when one of the names caught his eye: Edward O’Roarke.

  Could there be any relation?

  For a moment he blinked, staring at the picture of the bald man with intense blue eyes that peered back at him. He looked about old enough, Jordan guessed, not that he would have thought this man would have been related to Nicole. They were as different as night and day, really.

  Still, the spelling of the last name wasn’t all that common, and just in case it was a family member of Nicole’s he felt obligated to keep reading. He was almost to the end of the obituary when he stumbled onto the connection. Edward O’Roarke was Nicole’s father, meaning that even though he dreaded telling his own parents about the demise of his marriage, what Nicole was suffering through was far worse and something that demanded his attention. He could forget that the times they had spoken were few and far between, but he would never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t at least go to the funeral and check on her to make sure she was okay. She did deserve that much, at least.

  He scanned the obituary, gleaning the details of a life he had never known. Nicole’s father had been a deacon in a church. He'd had only one child, and he had been a high school history teacher before retiring. He'd still been married to Nicole’s mother, and Nicole was still married because the paper listed a son-in-law—one Michael Adams. Lingering on that thought, Jordan tried to picture someone who physically went with Nicole, yet all he kept seeing was himself. Talk about wishful thinking. He turned back to the newspaper.

  Ed O’Roarke’s death had been very sudden—a car wreck.

  Jordan felt the pit of his stomach knotting as he realized just how much of a mess Nicole’s life probably felt. As if it weren't painful enough to lose a loved one, losing him without warning seemed so much more devastating. There had been no time to get used to the loss, no chance to say all the things which needed to be said to continue on without him for a lifetime. His jaw clenched, and he hoped Michael Adams was there for her, taking care of her as he should be.

  One last glance at the obituary revealed the last information that he needed to know—details of the funeral. Leaning back in his booth, he realized that either Jordan was extremely lucky or someone was watching out for him. The funeral would take place in a couple of hours at a nearby church.

  Glancing down, he quickly realized he wasn’t exactly dressed formally, but if he knew anything at all about Nicole, that small detail wouldn’t really matter. It would be about him taking the time to attend rather than the clothes he might be wearing. He knew that because Alyssa had always been one who stood on ceremony, and Nicole was nothing like his ex.

  Refolding the paper, he leaned back as the waitress brought him the coffee and cream.
Her smile invited him once again to ask her out, and he shook his head, knowing he was in no way ready to jump back into the dating pool. Granted, he’d always landed on his feet before, and he’d always had plenty of girls to go out with, but his head still wasn’t on finding someone to wile away time with. He didn’t even feel like he knew himself anymore, and adding someone else to that mix would be was a mistake until he got things under control.

  To that end, he just smiled politely at the friendly waitress and turned his attention back to the newspaper as he flipped from the obituary page to the local section. This was where his mother got a lot of rumor-fodder. Taking a sip, he read through one story about a local charity for children, the black-and-white picture there revealing three ladies, one of whom was his mother. A smile lit his face, and he wondered why his mom hadn’t said anything--or perhaps she had and he hadn’t paid attention when he should have. Maybe since reading of Ed O’Roarke’s death, he was starting to see his own parents in a new light, as people who would at some point be taken from him. That though unsettled him, and he forced himself to read the article beneath his mom’s picture so he could ask her about it. Then he scanned through the rest of the paper.

  When the waitress came to give him his check, she hedged close and smiled again. “So, are you from around here?” Her fingers still held the check by the edge as it lay on the table, as though she wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

  Jordan shrugged. “Not really. I’m just passing through. Sorry.”

  She nodded reluctantly. “Okay.” Her fingers eased from the check, and she said, “Well, have a nice day.”

  “Thanks.” He pointed to the newspaper. “Could I possibly take this with me?”

  “Sure. An old man just left it after he'd finished his coffee.”

  “Thanks.”

  The waitress nodded one last time and then walked away, pulling out her pad again as she spotted a couple darting into the restaurant. At that point, Jordan noticed the overcast sky had finally opened, pouring rain down, just like the last time he'd been here, causing residents to scurry down the street, hurrying toward their destinations so they wouldn’t have to swim. Amazing how some things never changed.

  For a moment, Jordan just watched the rain as it fell in a silent deluge. He’d always loved the rain, but he seriously doubted that either he or Nicole would love it in a few hours, when they were both at the funeral. The best thing that could be said for it was that it would effectively disguise the tears.

  He purposely waited for a while longer, putting off the inevitable. He finished the paper, set out a healthy tip for the waitress, and paid for his coffee before walking out into the deluge. As he stood unlocking his door, he glanced around at all the little shops that had been there since before he’d grown up. At once, he felt grateful to be home, even though he knew his parents probably weren’t going to take his news very well, not considering they had managed to hold their marriage together no matter what, and even Jordan had to admit that couldn’t have been easy. Somehow they had something he and Alyssa had lacked, but even to this day he couldn’t begin to say what that magic ingredient had been.

  He wondered if Nicole knew.

  * * *

  Nicole lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the baby slept in a bassinet next to her. She glanced over at her son, marveling at how lucky she’d gotten for him to sleep through the night at only four months, and staring at him kept much darker thoughts at bay—thoughts of her father lying in his casket, looking nothing like the man she’d grown up admiring.

  Why couldn’t the funeral home people get it right? Ed O’Roarke wasn’t some kind of new medium to create a work of art out of. He'd been her father. He should look like the man, imperfections and all, not someone she'd never known.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she tried not to think about the way the last few days had played out, all the places she’d been with her mom, trying to keep everything together. Nicole hadn’t broken down once. Instead, she'd drawn the numbness around her like a thick blanket which would block out all the horrible things she didn’t want to deal with right now.

  Her mother had been a mess, acting like she'd been doped up when it had just been grief, and Nicole knew she never would've been able to get through putting the funeral together alone. So it had fallen to Nicole, not that Nicole minded. It had just forced her to remember things she wanted no part of, and she knew she didn’t have time for her heart to break, not today of all days. She had to get through this service. All the people at Daddy’s church were expecting it, and most of them had known Nicole since she'd been really young. She was a deacon’s daughter and she couldn’t fall apart. Period.

  Her cell rang, and she resisted the temptation to simply open it and greet whomever was calling. It turned out to be a good thing, really, considering the caller was Michael. Michael in Japan. How convenient. Yes, he had explained to her that this was a critical case he couldn’t miss. There were millions of dollars at stake. What could she offer that would make coming home so necessary? It was, after all, just her father, and Michael had told her she was strong enough so that his presence would be completely unnecessary.

  Unnecessary, her ass--Michael was a moron.

  She tossed the phone against the wall, and doing so must have broken it because the ringing stopped. Sitting up, she looked out the window at a grey, storm-tossed sky. Rain spewed from it, gently tapping at her window, and she sighed and shook her head. Yes, rain had been the perfect set-up for a funeral, but she hated the thought of her mother standing out in the cold and wet. It was bad enough that right now Nicole was sleeping in her old bedroom just to keep an eye on her mom. She was worried about when the numbness finally wore off and what would come next.

  Nicole glanced at the clock and realized she had only a little while before she was expected to be sitting in a front-row pew, facing a casket she couldn’t bear even to look at. Maybe that was why corpses never resembled the people who'd lived in those bodies. Maybe the funeral directors somehow thought disguising them would make it so much easier just to get through the service. They were wrong--oh so wrong.

  As she forced herself to get up and go to the closet to find something to wear to the service, Nicole thought she heard noises from the kitchen below. She took one last glance at the baby and headed that way, an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach as she wondered what her mom was doing. She took the stairs two at a time and headed into the kitchen to find her mom standing in her cotton nightgown and robe in front of a skillet full of eggs. She had buried her face in both hands, and her normally styled platinum blonde hair fell in disarray around her face. Nicole glanced at the table and saw three place settings when there should have been two. She swallowed hard, strode to her mom, and wrapped her arms around her.

  “Mom, it’s okay. It’s really okay.”

  Her mother leaned against her and sobbed loudly. Nicole rocked them both gently back and forth, hoping doing so would ease things. She didn’t know what else to do. She felt tears pooling in her own eyes and kept trying to blink them away. She didn’t want them to come out. After today, she’d deal with them. Just not today.

  It seemed to take forever before her mother finally calmed down and slowly pulled away to look at Nicole who smiled. “That’s better,” Nicole whispered, kissing her forehead. “What happened, Mom?”

  Margaret O’Roarke looked at her daughter and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “I got out of bed and came down here to fix breakfast. I was already halfway through when I remembered your father was…gone.” Her voice shook with tears, but this time she managed to keep them from getting the best of her. “And now there’s all these eggs.” She slipped her hand over her mouth as though trying to keep the words tucked inside, where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

  Although Nicole had no appetite, especially for eggs, she looked at the skillet and said, “Well, I guess there’s more for us, Mom. I’m really hungry, okay?”

  Margaret nodded an
d looked at the floor as Nicole strode to the table and collected the plates. She piled eggs on one and then filled the other. “Let’s eat.” She set the unused plate back in the cabinet and carried the others to the table. Then she went back and grabbed her mom’s arm, leading her.

  Once they had both been seated, Nicole took her mom’s hand and offered grace before they ate.

  Jordan sat at the back of the crowded sanctuary. Yes, he was under-dressed, but he didn’t care. He glanced at his watch, feeling uncomfortable in a church he didn’t know, surrounded by people he didn’t recognize. Then again, he reminded himself, this was really for Nicole, so his feeling comfortable wasn’t really been part of the bargain.

  Leaning back in his pew, he realized Nicole was coming in. Her long, dark hair had been drawn up, and she wore a loose, black dress that flowed around her as she linked arms with an older woman, probably her mother, as they walked to the front and sat. Jordan leaned forward, a frown on his lips, as he looked for other family members. Where was Nicole’s husband? Why wasn’t he here?

  Yet even as he looked no one else came, and the service started. Although Jordan tried to pay attention, he found himself staring at Nicole, worrying more and more that she might be alone during this awful time. What kind of a man was Michael Adams? He should have been here with her. She deserved that.

  The service blurred past, and Jordan followed the other cars out to the gravesite even though it was pouring, and while the church had been filled with mourners, the number quickly dwindled when it came to the cemetery. Still, Jordan knew he had to go. He kept watching Nicole, worried she might break down, but she remained in control. Others might have thought it was a lack of feeling, but he knew better. She was just trying to get through the worst day of her life the only way she could.

  Jordan stood in the back even though the rain spewed toward him despite the tarp overhead. There was no keeping the storm out, and the preacher tried to speak to be heard over the rain pelting down, which couldn’t have been easy. Jordan tried to keep an eye on Nicole but the man in front of him kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, constantly forcing Jordan to move to see around him.