Finding Forever

by Gael, Christine

  “Thank you,” he said earnestly as they began to eat. “This is amazing. Lunch came out of the vending machine today.”

  She shook her head at him and snicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Ethan, you have to take care of yourself. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

  “You’re right,” Ethan said, stabbing some noodles with his fork. “But we’re almost at the end. I can feel it. I just have to stay the course a little while longer.” Seeing her worried expression, he reached across the table and covered her free hand with his. “I’m fine, Steph,” he told her. “I promise.”

  She hesitated, searching his eyes for a moment, and then nodded. Who was she, trying to tell him anything? A big, fat hypocrite. She saw threats everywhere now, and it was taking a toll on her ability to function. Her job at the veterinary clinic only seemed to be getting harder, with the loud barking, hissing, and screeching that filled the building all day. Between that, honking horns in traffic, and the things her imagination conjured up when she wasn’t paying attention, everyday life had become more of a challenge than it had ever been, even in the aftermath of Paul’s death. She’d stopped teaching her yoga classes, had barely left the house aside from going to work and to Ethan’s. Her world was shrinking every day, and she was just letting it happen.

  Right now, though? This very moment? Things were okay. She was here with Ethan. Safe and sound. No point in ruining a good day.

  Don’t borrow trouble, Stephanie.

  Clearing her throat, she forced a tight smile. “I’m glad. If you ever want to talk about the job or anything, I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” Ethan said, giving her a genuine grin. He let out a groan, putting his arms out and stretching back again before twisting from side to side.

  “Sore?” Steph asked.

  “It’s just my back,” he replied. “All those hours spent hunched over a desk, you know. I ought to get over to the chiropractor one of these days.”

  Steph abandoned her fork and stood. “Lucky for you, there’s a doctor in the house.” Moving around behind Ethan, she dropped her hands to his shoulders and began to rub between his shoulder blades, provoking another moan from him. “Right here?” she asked, her fingers stopping on a knot near the base of his neck.

  “Yeah,” Ethan murmured, letting out a long exhale. “You’ve got the magic touch.”

  She smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head. He caught her wrist in his hand, pulling her back down before she could start to massage him again and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Steph groaned and pulled back a scant inch.

  “You didn’t even finish eating,” she said, laughing. “It’s going to get cold.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I ate plenty,” he said, and kissed her again.

  Ethan’s presence was like a balm to her soul. No more guilt. No more difficult conversations. She melted into him and let his touch chase the demons away…

  An hour later, she lay across his chest in his plush bed, listening to his gentle snores and soaking in the sensation of his warm skin against hers. They had eventually finished dinner, and he had packed away the leftovers, thankfully not noticing the fact that the lion’s share of hers had gone uneaten.

  Now they were tangled up together and he was fast asleep, recovering from a long day. Steph, however, couldn’t seem to find sleep no matter how hard she tried.

  She told herself to just relax, to listen to Ethan’s slow, steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing, to let it lull her gently to slumber. But that wasn’t happening, and as the time continued to tick away, the anxiety only worsened. The shadows on the bedroom wall looked like hands grabbing for her, shadowy figures with evil intentions. The lights of cars outside the window made her eyes pop open feverishly every time they passed on the street, and even the faintest of noises seemed amplified in the quiet of the house. Normally, being tangled in Ethan’s strong arms helped, but not tonight.

  After nearly an hour, she finally crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, grabbing her purse as she went. Standing in front of the sink, she dug out her trusty pill bottle and yanked the top off.

  Only one left.

  She gave the bottle a shake and the pill bounced off her shaking palm and into the sink, rolling down the drain.

  “No, no, no, please!” she hissed as fresh panic rolled over her.

  There was no way she would get through the night like this. Not without a little help.

  A glance back into the bedroom told her that Ethan was still asleep. Steph was getting dressed before she was really even aware of it. Ethan would understand; she would just tell him she’d had trouble getting to sleep and felt more comfortable in her own bed tonight.

  She scribbled an explanation down on a sticky note.

  Couldn’t sleep, went back to my place. I’ll call you in the morning – XOXO

  She stuck the note to the clock on his bedside table. Her heart was hammering at top speed, and she felt the by now familiar adrenaline flooding through her even as she leaned down and kissed Ethan on the forehead.

  Relief was only fifteen minutes away. It was late enough that there wasn’t much traffic out on the streets, so she made the short drive back to her house in record time.

  As she dashed up the front steps, she muttered under her breath the whole way.

  “There is no one behind the shrubs. You are safe. You are home.”

  She knew she was spiraling, and a little voice in her head whispered that things were never going to go back to normal. That she would spend the rest of her life on edge like this, hearing gunshots whenever she closed her eyes and seeing threats everywhere she looked.

  Maybe she should’ve told Anna what was going on. She always has good advice, she thought as she mounted the front steps and unlocked the front door. At least then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone--

  Steph stopped dead in her tracks the second she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, where the light was still on in spite of the late hour. All thoughts of her sister disappeared from her mind, and her mouth dropped open as she stared in at her father and Eva. They stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Slow piano music filled the room from Pop’s radio, and they were swaying back and forth like high schoolers at their first prom. An abandoned plate of crackers and cheese sat on the kitchen table, and the two of them looked like they were in their own little world.

  Her panic drained away as icy shock momentarily took its place.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Eva and Pop jumped, pulling apart with lightning speed and turning towards her, eyes wide. “Stephanie!” gasped Eva, her wrinkled face going beet red. “I thought you went to Ethan’s--”

  “What are you doing, sneaking up on us like that, girlie?” demanded Pop. “You about near gave me a heart attack!”

  “You should talk!” Steph fired back, taking a few unsteady steps into the kitchen. Now the sputtered questions started to tumble out of her in a rush. “What is this? Are you guys--? Don’t tell me you two have been--”

  “Stephanie, please,” began Eva, holding up her hands, “let’s all just calm down--”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” snapped Steph, her nails digging into her palms. “This is my house and I have the right to know what the hell is going on here. Are you…together?”

  “That’s none of your dang business,” Pop snapped, but Eva shot him a warning look.

  “Red, Stephanie has the right to know. It is her house, and we haven’t been fair.”

  Red scowled for a while longer and then finally blew out a sigh and shrugged. “Go on, then.”

  “Look,” Eva said, meeting Steph’s eyes with an apologetic smile, “your father and I are…I guess you could say our friendship has grown into something different. It’s only been going on a few months. We weren’t ready to tell everyone yet.”

  “A few months?” Steph dema
nded, her anger turning into confusion and disbelief. “And what friendship? I thought you said he was a curmudgeon!”

  Granted, Stephanie had felt that, amidst all the bickering, their banter had always had an underlying affectionate air. Still, she had never even considered that it was some backwards way of flirting.

  “He is a curmudgeon,” Eva acknowledged, glancing at Pop. “But he’s also a charmer, when he wants to be. And…” She put her hand on his arm, and that one gesture was enough to tell Steph everything she needed to know. “He’s a good man,” Eva said softly. “With some silly ideas and a bad attitude. Someone needs to set him straight.”

  “You certainly do that, Eva,” Pop said with a wheezing chuckle.

  They’re in love, Steph thought, eyes wide as she looked from Pop to his caregiver.

  Suddenly, the outrage drained away, leaving her feeling weak and tired. So they hadn’t told her yet. She wasn’t either of their keepers, after all. Who didn’t have things they hid from the people they loved sometimes? Look at what Paul had done in the months leading up to his murder.

  Look at what she herself was doing now. Not just to Ethan, but to her whole family.

  That idea was uncomfortable, and she pushed it away, clearing her throat as she backed out of the room.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding strange, even to herself. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

  Eva took a step toward her, her eyes wide. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine,” Steph answered, still in that numb tone of voice, and turned around before they could say anything else. She felt like she had aged ten years by the time she reached her bathroom, and the pill bottle in the cabinet had never looked more enchanting.

  There were only a few pills left in this bottle, and there were no refills on this prescription. Still, she took one, swallowing it without water and staring at her haggard-looking reflection in the mirror.

  Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow I’ll call the doctor and figure out how to fix this all.

  14

  Max

  “I’m going to miss this place.”

  Looking around at all the changes she had made to the bookstore, all the decorations that had been taken down, and all the bric-a-brac she’d begun to pack, Max almost found it hard to believe that it had been just over a week since she’d gotten that notice on her door.

  It was about an hour until closing time, and she was leaning against the counter talking to herself, because why not? Surely, everyone else was sick of her complaining.

  She’d even bitten the bullet and had starting filling her regulars in on the fact that she was going to be closing up shop soon, but the process was a painful one. One that was slowly breaking her down. Every one of their shocked and dismayed faces and oh-so kind words about what the sanctuary of her little shop had come to mean to them was another blow. That part hurt her the most, which was why she had assured them that she would be trying to relocate – assuming Ian came through for her.

  Ian.

  Max glanced down at her phone, feeling a touch of disappointment when she saw that there was still no word from him. She usually wasn’t glued to her phone like this, especially during business hours, but over the past couple of days she had been unable to keep her eyes off it, constantly thinking back to their date the other night. It had been undeniably fun, and she’d seen more of the man than she ever would have thought she wanted to, but it had finally cemented the realization that Ian Thackery wasn’t the enemy. The idea of moving still stung, but by now, she had more or less come to terms with it, and she no longer harbored ill will towards Ian.

  In fact…

  She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and raised her eyebrows when she saw that it was Mr. Bonomo, the owner of the flower shop next door who had come to be a friend over the past year. He looked terrible. His gray hair was mussed, his shoulders were slumped, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “Hey, Mr. Bonomo,” she said, standing up, “how are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “No,” he replied, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m not.”

  Max winced. She had spoken to him about the move a few days ago in passing, and he had seemed resigned and accepting, if slightly disappointed. He had said himself that maybe this was a sign; he was getting on in years and this could be the right opportunity to finally retire, relax, and spend his days by the beach. Today, though, he seemed incredibly upset, and just one look at his expression was enough to fill Max with worry.

  Was it his health?

  “Here, sit down. I’ll put some tea on.”

  “Thank you, Max,” the sweet old man said, offering her a weak smile and slumping into one of the armchairs at the front of the store. Max hurried to the little coffee maker she had set up behind the counter and brewed him a cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted as she took a seat in the chair opposite him. He cradled the mug in his hands, looking old and defeated, as he peered around at the store. “You’ve started packing already,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  She cleared her throat and nodded. “I’m hoping to have a new location up and running in the next few months or so, though, if I’m lucky.” She leaned forward, chewing her lip. “Mr. Bonomo, did something happen? Are you unwell?”

  He met her eyes, taking a slow breath, and took a sip of his tea before replying. “I’m fine. But my father is 94,” he said slowly. “Did I ever tell you that?” Max shook her head. “He’s been having some health problems for a while, now,” Mr. Bonomo continued. “He’s a diabetic who won’t stop eating sweets around the clock, and he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. He’s started to forget to take his meds.” He swallowed, looking almost ashamed by his emotions. “He can’t live alone anymore, at any rate. He’s been in New York for the past few years, but with things continuing the way they are, I’m going to have to have him come live with me here in Bluebird Bay.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Max said, and meant it; her mother and aunts had been going through a similar situation with Pop ever since the fire. Aunt Steph was dealing with the brunt of it, with him living in her house, but tending to him took all three siblings pitching in both timewise and financially. And Mr. Bonomo was far older than Aunt Stephanie; he had been ready to retire just a few days ago, for God’s sake.

  She sighed, frustrated by it all and feeling for him.

  “So when is he going to move in with you?” she asked.

  “My aunt’s been staying with him,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s been making sure he’s getting what he needs, although she’s 90, herself. She shouldn’t have to look out for him. I’m planning to move him in as soon as possible, but it’s going to take some renovations to make sure my house is livable – I’ll need to have ramps put in, make sure the doorways are wide enough for him to get through, find space to store his things…” He shook his head, gripping the handle of his mug until his knuckles turned white. “And then there will be the cost of his care once he’s here. It’s going to be tough without the shop income.”

  Max’s heart sank.

  So there it was.

  Oh, Ian, she thought sadly, shoulders slumping, you couldn’t have picked a worse time to buy up this shopping center.

  “I hate that I have to come here and bother you like this,” Mr. Bonomo said, “but the truth is, I can’t afford to retire. Not now. And with this real estate guy taking over my shop, I’ll need to find a new place. You said you were planning on moving somewhere else – would you be able to keep your eyes peeled for me, too?” Max opened her mouth to reply, but he added, “I’m terrible on the computer, and I don’t know anything about retail space around here. I would ask my son, but the last thing I want to do is make him worried about me.”

  His eyes were wide and pleading, and Max’s heart broke for him, her own troubles temporarily forgotten. “Of course,” she said, nodding. “Let m
e get my laptop, and we’ll see what we can find.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Bonomo said as she stood up.

  She crossed the room to her computer bag and pulled out her little MacBook. Then, she dragged her chair closer to Mr. Bonomo’s so they could browse the listings together. But it didn’t take long to realize just how daunting of a task this was going to be. A flower shop needed a specialized space for refrigerators and extra plumbing for sinks and misters. Not to mention that it was hard to beat the amount of foot traffic that this strip-mall got. Between that and budgetary restrictions, their options were limited. After about forty minutes of checking every website she could think of, they were coming up empty-handed. This didn’t exactly raise Max’s hopes for finding a place for herself if Ian didn’t come through for her, either, but she wasn’t about to let that show, if she could help it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sighing and setting her computer down on the table. “But I’m not giving up. I will call some real estate agents tomorrow and we will find something. Don’t give up on me, okay?”

  “I won’t,” Mr. Bonomo said, but his defeated sigh and slumped shoulders told a different story. “I appreciate you trying, sweetheart.”

  He stood and she followed him to the door, feeling helpless. “I’m going to keep looking,” Max told him, stopping and putting a hand on his shoulder. “If I find anything that might work, I’ll let you know.”

  He shot her a sad smile and she pulled him in for a hug before turning and opening the door. She gasped when she found herself face-to-face with Ian, who had his hand up like he was ready to come inside.

  “Ian,” she said, taken aback. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Max,” he said, smiling. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s… going,” Max replied, glancing awkwardly between him and her neighbor. “Mr. Bonomo,” she said, “this is Ian Thackery. Ian, this is Mr. Bonomo – he runs the flower shop next door.”