Between Heaven and Earth

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Yeah, and it’s just decorated with Legos. This—” She didn’t even know how to describe the beautiful room. It reminded her a little of the house she and Devon had stayed at on their honeymoon, years ago when she’d been young and dreamed of having nice things and living in an elegant home someday.

  “I wanted to preserve something of our old home, something of Jenna’s,” Matt said. “I got the idea that the bedroom would be the place to do it. You know.” He shrugged then walked past Cassie into the room. “This is the furniture and bedding she picked out. That’s the nightstand where she kept her water glass and jewelry at night. The pictures of us—” All traces of lightheartedness fled his expression, replaced by a bleakness so encompassing that Matt dropped to the bed, sitting hunched over as if weary. “The pictures are to remind me of what could have been.”

  “What do you mean?” Cassie took a step closer, concerned with the change that had come over him. She knew Matt well enough to recognize his tone of self-recrimination. “There’s nothing you could have done to stop her aneurysm. It’s just one of those things that happened.” For all the times she’d heard such lame sentiments herself, Cassie couldn’t quite believe she was feeding them to someone else now.

  “I couldn’t have stopped it,” Matt agreed, “but we could have lived more before it happened. There should be a lot more pictures on these walls.” His hand swept the room, over the dozen or so framed photos that made up his wife’s shrine. “I wasn’t always the best husband.”

  “I find that very hard to believe.” Cassie came farther into the room, then sat on the end of the bed, a few feet from where Matt still sat hunched forward, elbows braced on his legs.

  “I was caught up in my career and justified it in the name of providing for my family.”

  “I imagine that’s something a lot of men do,” Cassie said, strangely relieved to find that was his definition of not being the best husband.

  “I don’t want to be like a lot of men,” Matt said vehemently. “I shouldn’t have been. I should have been an attentive husband who loved and appreciated his wife more.”

  “But you weren’t, or you think you weren’t,” Cassie clarified. “So you’ve put up all these pictures as a sort of continued self-flogging?”

  He didn’t answer, so Cassie stood and walked to the head of the intricately carved four-poster bed and the matching nightstand that held a close up of Matt’s wife. She picked up the photo and returned to the foot of the bed, this time sitting slightly closer to Matt.

  “She’s very beautiful,” Cassie said, admiring the picture of the smiling, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman.

  “Jenna was beautiful. Inside and out.”

  Was. The word struck Cassie’s core. Jenna was never coming back. Matt would never hold his wife again. They’d never have another chance to talk or laugh or make love. There was no hope for recovering the past he’d lost. Cassie’s heart physically ached for him as she tried to imagine how awful that must be. She could still have all those opportunities again. Devon would return to her. Life would go on, happier than it was right now. She just had to be patient and try to do her best during this difficult time.

  Part of that best can be helping Matt. Maybe that was the reason she had to wait a little longer for Devon to wake up and come back to her. If he were awake now, she certainly wouldn’t be here with Matt. The possibility brought a sharp and conflicted pain to her chest. She certainly wasn’t wishing for Devon to remain as he was. But since he had… well, she could only feel grateful for having Matt in her life, and not just because he could fix things for her.

  Maybe I can fix this one big thing for him.

  “How old are you, Matt?”

  He turned sideways to look at her, question in his eyes. “Thirty-four. Why?”

  “The average life span in the United States is somewhere around eighty years now, isn’t it?” Cassie mused. “Another forty-six years is a long time to be alone, don’t you think?”

  “What is it you’re suggesting?”

  She wasn’t quite sure. She was sort of making this up as she went, but she hadn’t forgotten everything she learned in school. She relied on that training now, along with the sincere desire to help him.

  “Keep all of these pictures up for now, but give yourself a deadline for when they need to come down.” Cassie stood and, starting with the pictures on the wall, studied the couple in each. The first two photos showed a younger Matt, dressed as he did now, in jeans and an untucked shirt, but the farther she moved around the room, the more the photos changed. Jenna’s hair was perfectly styled, and she wore more jewelry. Matt’s shirts were tucked in and accompanied by ties and jackets. The locations changed from places like the beach to fancier venues.

  “Events through my employer,” Matt said, as if he’d heard her unspoken question. “NBA stuff.”

  “Do you miss it?” Cassie asked.

  “Not as much as I thought I would.”

  She heard the revelation in his voice and turned to see that his face mirrored the discovery of his statement.

  “It was an exciting life,” Matt said, “but I was missing out on the real excitement.”

  “Like head lice.” Cassie grinned.

  “Exactly.” Matt laughed.

  She turned back to the photos and finally placed the one in her hand on the nightstand again.

  “As you were saying…” Matt prompted.

  Good. He wanted to hear this. He wanted to feel better. She’d learned during her internship that there were people who, oddly enough, didn’t want to get better but preferred to remain miserable, though Matt had never struck her as that type.

  “Keep all of these up for now,” Cassie repeated, “but give yourself a deadline for when they need to come down. Maybe by the one year anniversary of Jenna’s death. When is that?”

  “January.” Matt was looking down again.

  “All right.” Cassie surged forward with her plan. “In January, I will come and help you take these down if you’d like, or you can do it gradually over the next few months. That might be better. You can keep one out, maybe this one.” She glanced again at the picture on the nightstand. “And the boys ought to have a photo of their mother in their room or readily available to them, too.”

  “So I take the pictures down, then what?”

  His interest encouraged her. “With each picture you take down, you have to forgive yourself for something with your relationship with Jenna, something from the past. You need to say it out loud and literally pack it up for good, put it in the box with the picture and tell yourself that it’s in the past. That part of your life is done. Unfortunately, none of us gets a do-over.”

  Even Cassie realized she wasn’t going to get that. Devon would never be able to live the first five years of Noah’s life. They couldn’t have those lost years back, but they could at least go forward together, just as Matt needed to move forward.

  “What we get is a ‘do better.’” That’s pretty good. Her education was kicking in now, filling her with excitement and ideas. “With each picture you remove, you should put up a new one of a memory with you and Austin and Asher, of the things you’ll be doing with them between now and then. These will be your doing better photos.” Instead of punishing himself, Matt would see his successes and the happiness he could have with his boys now. “Along with putting the pictures and the past away, you need to make some long term plans for the future.”

  “I did,” Matt said. “I sold our house, bought a new car, got a new job, moved.”

  What more could you ask? she imagined him thinking. She was going to ask anyway, going to push him a bit.

  “What about pursuing a new wife?”

  His gaze was sharp as he turned his head to her again. This time he sat up so they met eye-to-eye.

  “You think it’s that easy?”

  “I didn’t say anything about it being easy or hard or anything else,” Cassie said. “I just asked you to consider it. You’ve got
two little boys to raise, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.” What is with the trite phrases tonight? “You could make some woman very happy, and you could be happy, too.”

  “I’m happy now.”

  “Liar.” The word was out before she realized it. Cassie clapped a hand to her mouth as she uttered an apology. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not a liar.”

  “Any more than you are, at any rate.” Matt looked at her appraisingly. “I’d say we’re both pretty good at pretending, though you’ve had a few more years than I have to perfect the deception.”

  “Some things make me very happy,” Cassie said defensively. “Like Noah. I love being his mom. We have a lot of fun together.”

  “And yet…” Matt prodded.

  Cassie shrugged. “Okay, so the nights are bad. I miss Devon. I’m lonely. And sad. A lot.” She released a breath and looked away, not quite believing she’d just told him so much, so easily. How had this conversation been turned toward her problems? This was supposed to be about helping Matt.

  “I know you feel all those same things,” Cassie said. “The difference is you have the choice to move on. I get that you’re still grieving right now, and dating probably sounds terrifying.” It did to her. She could only feel grateful that wasn’t her problem. “But you don’t have to do it all right now. I’m just saying that you need to quit punishing yourself for the past. No one’s perfect. Be as good as you can now, for Austin and Asher and for yourself. That probably means figuring out how to not be alone for the rest of your life.”

  There. She’d said it. Now let him hate her or not.

  Matt leaned closer, bracing his hand on the bed, so close to Cassie’s that their fingers were nearly touching. “The night I called you and asked if we could be friends I figured out how to not be alone.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “It’s not a perfect situation.” Their gazes locked. “Some of the kinks are pretty big, but I think it mostly works. I’m happier. The boys are happier— mine and yours— when we’re together. I’d like to think that you do a little better, too, that my friendship maybe eases a bit of that loneliness you just admitted to, or that I’m at least worth hanging onto for my repair skills.”

  “You are. You do.” Cassie fumbled for the right words that wouldn’t say too much and finally settled on his. “I am. Happier.”

  “Good.”

  Neither moved for a long moment. Part of her never wanted to move but wanted to suspend time in this moment, with Matt sitting so close that every nerve in her body was aware of him. His hair was a mess from the many times he’d run his hands through it all evening in various stages of frustration. She longed to reach out and smooth it down for him, the same way she wanted to soothe the hurt in his life.

  In his eyes, she read unmistakable desire, which she knew she should have rejected at once, but it felt good to be noticed by a man. Probably without even realizing it, Matt frequently said and did things that made her feel like a desirable woman instead of the frumpy school secretary and soccer mom she worried she’d become.

  Her gaze slid down to his arms and hands that were always serving her. How she wanted to feel those arms around her, not in a romantic sense so much as to feel of their comfort. She knew what a hug from Matt would mean because she knew what she’d say with hers if she ever gave him one, which she couldn’t. But if she did, it would mean so many things. I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. You’re such a great person. Thank you for being my friend. I need you. I care about you. I—

  “I should go.” Cassie stood abruptly. “Tomorrow’s a school day and—”

  Matt pressed a finger to his lips as he stood. “Don’t ever feel like you have to hide what you’re feeling or really want to say to me. We’re not sophomores in high school. We’re mature adults with a tricky situation, and a friendship I don’t want to mess up.”

  “Okay.” Cassie nodded, then turned to go. Matt caught her arm.

  “We’ll do better with each other if we’re honest. So I’ll say it tonight. Being together like this— alone— while awesome, isn’t a good idea. So we won’t do it again because I find you too attractive; we’re both too lonely, and I, at least, am only too human.” He raked his hand through his hair again and sighed heavily. “It would be too easy—”

  “Good summary,” Cassie agreed as she hurried from the room.

  This time, Matt let her go.

  “Going all the way!” Matt’s fists raised over his head as he dribbled the soccer ball downfield.

  “Go, Dad, go!” Asher jumped up and down in the same spot mid-field that he’d been at all game.

  “This one’s ours,” Matt shouted.

  “I don’t think so.” Cassie ran in front of him, then turned, jogging backward so they faced one another. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and her ponytail swung back and forth as she jumped side to side, trying to block him.

  Come and get me, he wanted to say, but knew that would only earn him a frown since she’d realize he wasn’t just thinking about soccer. How was he supposed to care about that with such a beautiful, vibrant woman just a few feet away?

  Cassie’s eyes flickered briefly to his side, and just as Matt realized the look was a signal, Noah had stolen the ball from him.

  “Hey!” he cried. “Austin, Asher. Where are you guys? You’re supposed to be guarding.”

  “Teamwork,” Cassie smirked as she moved past him, putting herself between Matt and Noah. “Plus, you should keep your eye on the ball.” She ran off toward the opposite end of the field, giving him a fine view of her legs.

  Just her legs. Admiring a woman’s calves was not a sin. Cassie’s were developed nicely, along with the rest of her.

  “Better things to look at than a ball,” he muttered.

  “I heard that,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Good,” he shouted back, smiling to himself. Thursday had become his favorite day of the week because of their afternoon scrimmage games. Sometimes they played all three boys against him and Cassie. Sometimes it was Webbs vs. Kramers, like today. Once they’d played girl against boys, Matt included, but she’d given them too much of a run for their money for him to risk humiliation with that match up again. She said soccer wasn’t her game, but he begged to differ. At any rate, she outran him just about every time.

  “Dad, stop them. We’re losing,” Austin whined.

  “You stop them,” Matt said, slowing his pace to a walk. Truth was, he didn’t mind if Cassie and Noah won and he had to treat them to ice cream. He liked doing that anyway, and losing gave him the excuse he needed.

  “Da-ad. You’re not even trying.”

  “All right.” Matt started jogging again. “But where were you a minute ago? If I steal the ball, you’d better have my back this time.”

  “Okay.” Austin’s face set in a look of grim determination that Matt read easily. Being beaten by a boy younger than him and a girl wasn’t acceptable.

  “Partners?” Matt held his hand out as they ran, and Austin slapped it. “Get your brother down there, too,” Matt said, then sprinted toward the opposite end of the field. Cassie and Noah were close to the goal and would have been there already had she not allowed Noah to control the ball the entire length of the field. Matt felt bad to take a goal away from him, but his boys needed a score, too.

  With a war cry and an exaggerated stride he dashed past them and jumped in front of the goal, arms outstretched. “Just try to get one past me. Just try.”

  “You can do this, Noah.” Cassie nodded her encouragement, and Noah kicked, sending the ball straight at Matt’s middle. He caught it but tripped in the process and staggered backward, falling fast onto the grass and hard ground beneath.

  “Goal!” Noah shouted, jumping around with glee as Asher joined him. Asher always celebrated, regardless of the team that scored.

  “Is not,” Austin cried. “Dad caught it.”

  “But he caught it behind the posts, so
technically it is a goal.” Cassie picked up the ball and tossed it to Austin. “At least it’s your turn to kick off. Rally the troops to center field.”

  “Technically I caught the ball in front of the posts and then tripped,” Matt said after the boys had marched off. This wasn’t worth starting a fight over, and he was glad Noah had made the goal. He pulled a decent-sized rock out of the ground between his legs. “Tripped on this.” He held the rock up for Cassie to see.

  “Sorry. Falling behind the posts counts, too. Any way the ball makes it back there, it’s a score.” She stepped closer and held a hand out to him. “Are you all right? That was a pretty hard fall.”

  “I’ll say.” Matt accepted her outstretched hand and promptly pulled her down beside and nearly on top of him.

  “Matt!” she scolded as she scooted away and brushed grass from her shorts. “What was that for?”

  “Just wanted you to know what it feels like to fall hard.” Like I have and am. It was exhilaration and temptation and deprivation all at once in his case. He jumped up, held a hand out then helped Cassie up. Instead of letting her go right away, he held onto her a few seconds more as they stood facing each other.

  An afternoon breeze whipped loose strands of hair across her face and stirred up more longing within him. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Worse, why did she have to be that way on the inside, too? A pretty face he could have resisted, but it was becoming harder and harder to resist the whole package that was Cassandra Webb.

  “Matt?” She tugged her fingers free and took a step back, alarm in her eyes, as if she suspected he might try to kiss her or something. And he might have— certainly wanted to— but that Jiminy Cricket conscience of his was constantly nagging him to back off, reminding him that Cassie was already taken, and he was fortunate to be her friend.

  “You keep saying my name,” he teased. “Kind of like the sound of it, don’t you?”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Know what? You’re sounding like a big shot NBA commentator right now. Maybe it’s that head of yours that made you lose balance.”