Between Heaven and Earth

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Matt got married without telling us? This isn’t another tattoo joke, is it?”

  “No,” Cassie exclaimed. No and no and no. “That’s not what I meant. It isn’t what you think. I am married, but not to Matt.” She plunged on, determined to give them the Reader’s Digest version of her story and spare Matt the chore. “My husband is a police officer. He was shot six years ago. He isn’t able to care for himself or even respond to others right now. His condition is known as PVS. That stands for Permanent Vegetative State.” How she hated that term, as if Devon had left his human form and turned into a zucchini or something. The medical community really ought to come up with something better.

  “Oh, my poor dear.” Matt’s mother left her pies and crossed the kitchen, her arms held out. “What a terrible thing.” She wrapped Cassie in a floury hug, which felt awkward at first, then strangely comforting.

  “It’s hard,” Cassie admitted when Maureen had stepped back and the flour dust around them settled, “but Noah and I manage okay, better now that we’ve met Matt and Austin and Asher. We’ve all become great friends.”

  “But Matt and you aren’t—” Megan seemed unable to connect the words.

  “We aren’t dating,” Cassie said. “We aren’t a couple.” Could I spell it out any clearer? “He knows all about my husband, Devon. Matt has even been to the care center with me to see him.” A night she wasn’t soon to forget. Never had she appreciated or cared for Matt more than in those minutes they’d spent together at Devon’s bedside when he’d proved himself the best kind of friend, one she didn’t want to lose, so she needed to figure out how to make this work with his family.

  “Friends. I get it,” Megan said, but Cassie could see that she didn’t.

  “I realize the situation is unusual. It’s one of the reasons I was hesitant to come here, but Matt convinced me that Noah would love a true family-filled Thanksgiving, and he is.” Cassie glanced out the glass doors again and caught sight of Matt running alongside Noah, the kite string in their joined hands.

  “We’re so glad you’ve come,” Maureen said, sounding more and more sincere every time she spoke the words. “And you have been good for Matt. He’s growing into the dad he’s meant to be, and for that, we thank you.”

  “Six years is a long time,” Megan said, a half-smile of apology on her lips at the same time her eyes were appraising Cassie in a clearly speculative way. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

  She was still assuming, or guessing at least. “It’s all right,” Cassie said aloud. Think what you will. I don’t care. Except she did, for Noah’s sake, and Matt’s and his boys' sakes. “I hope— as I imagine you do as well— that someday Matt is able to meet someone else and remarry.” Even as she spoke the words, she couldn’t help the spark of jealousy that sprang to life at the thought of Matt with someone else. “Losing Jenna has been very hard on him and the boys. It would be nice for them not to be alone forever.”

  It would be nice for me, too. Cassie turned away from Megan and the picturesque scene on the beach behind her.

  I won’t be, just as soon as Devon wakes up.

  “Why do I always end up in the middle of the table,” Matt complained as he passed yet another dish to the opposite end, this one to his brother-in-law, Ned.

  “Youngest child, middle of the table. Life’s tough, bro.” Mark fished a roll from the basket in front of him. “Pass the butter, will you Matty?”

  “Matty?” Cassie looked at him and grinned.

  “Childhood torment. Don’t go there,” Matt warned. Their fingers accidentally brushed as he handed her the butter dish. It was enough to make him forget that his brother was still a pain as a grown up and to feel grateful he and the boys had come home with Cassie and Noah.

  He thought the trip was going pretty good so far, though she’d seemed a bit on edge earlier in the day when she’d joined them on the beach for kite flying. He’d tried standing behind her, teaching her how to move the strings to guide the trick kite once it was airborne, but she’d wanted nothing to do with that, insisting that his instructions would suffice. Independent as Cassie was, she’d done all right, catching on quicker than most beginners, but he’d been disappointed at the missed opportunity to give her a lesson and to be close.

  Having her sit beside him at dinner was almost as good. A couple of months ago, he’d dreaded the approaching holidays, but Cassie had changed that and so many other things for him.

  “Tell us about your job as a tattoo artist.” Mark’s wife Laura was seated opposite Cassie, and the two seemed to be taking an instant liking to one another.

  Solidarity, Matt supposed. It had to be hard for a woman to come into this family, even as a temporary visitor. It had taken Jenna a couple of years after they were married to figure out and feel comfortable around his mom and sister. All things considered, Cassie was holding her own pretty well.

  “Wait. You really are a tattoo artist? I thought that was a joke,” Megan said.

  “You’ll never know.” Matt winked at Cassie. All these years later, he still loved annoying his sister, and now he was too old for her to do anything about it. Cassie ignored him, or tried to anyway. Matt was pretty sure he’d caught a split second of reaction— an almost smile and slight flush.

  “I work at an elementary school,” she said.

  “Whoa.” Mark whistled under his breath. “They start young in your state. In Oregon you’ve got to be eighteen to get inked.”

  “Funny,” Megan said.

  Matt thought it was. Now that the joke wasn’t at his expense, he found it amusing. His mother did, too, given her pleasant expression and the lack of idioms spouting from her mouth.

  “Well, regardless of California’s strange laws,” Laura began, “it appears to have been a good move for you, Matt. The boys seem to be doing much better than when they left.”

  “It’s Cassie,” Matt said, turning his head to her. Behind her, through the pass through to the kitchen, he could see Austin and Asher at the kids’ table, chatting happily with their cousins and Noah.

  “It’s Matt.” Cassie refuted his praise. “You, not me,” she said directly to him. “It’s you playing and interacting with Austin and Asher. It’s really listening to Austin, having conversations with him, allowing him to go through the grieving process and still loving him while he does.”

  “Austin does seem more like himself again,” Megan said, “and Asher doesn’t seem to be crying as much or constantly trying to please everyone and make everything better.”

  Because it is better, Matt acknowledged. It had happened so gradually over the past few months, from that first outing for ice cream to last weekend when he’d driven the boys up to the mountains to play in the first snow of the year, that he hadn’t really thought about all the changes that had taken place.

  “That’s great,” Mark cut in. “The boys are great. You’re great. I’m great. Some pie would be great.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach, as if anticipating stuffing it even more.

  “How about a round of Pie in Your Face first?” Cassie said.

  Matt choked on the bite of stuffing he’d been in the process of swallowing. Half-laughing, half-coughing, he grabbed his glass of water and poured it down his throat. A few long seconds later, when he could finally breathe again, he looked around the silent table to see everyone staring at Cassie.

  Seemingly oblivious that she’d said anything surprising or wrong, she took a bite of mashed potatoes, then realized, as the fork left her lips, that everyone’s eyes were on her.

  Matt leaned close. “Who are you, woman, and where did this wicked sense of humor come from?” Not that he was complaining. Anyone who could stand up to his mom and siblings was someone he wanted on his team.

  “What do you mean?” Cassie’s eyes darted nervously back and forth from Mark openly frowning at her to Maureen with her mouth screwed up in confusion. Other than the clatter of voices and silverware from the children’s table, the room remaine
d silent.

  Matt leaned closer yet, brushed some of Cassie’s hair aside, and whispered in her ear. “First the tattoo bit and now you tell my brother to have some pie in his face. I’d never have guessed; you’re usually so reserved.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened, and her lips parted in an O of horror.

  “It’s a game,” she blurted. The stunned looks continued coming from nearly everyone at the table. “A board game,” she clarified. “It’s a tradition in our family. Noah and I play it every Thanksgiving before we eat the real pie. I’ve seen it advertised quite a bit, so I thought…”

  “Must be another California thing.” Mom shook her head.

  Dad leaned in from the opposite end of the table. “A game where someone gets a pie in his face?”

  “Well, not an actual pie, but the whipping cream, yes,” Cassie said. “I can get the game if you’d like. I brought it with me in case anyone wanted to play.”

  “Sign me up.” He threw down his napkin. “I want the first turn.” He stared down the table. “My pie’s headed straight for your face, Maureen.”

  “Me. What did I ever do to you?” She planted her large hands on either side of her plate and stood.

  “Dangerous question, Mom,” Matt warned.

  “You married me, that’s what,” Dad said, sounding as uncharacteristic as Cassie had a few moments ago.

  “The deadline for complaints was yesterday,” Mom said, “so don’t bother.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother.” Dad rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Where’s this game at, Cassie?”

  “In Matt’s room. I’ll get it.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “But it doesn’t actually involve throwing—”

  “If Dad gets to throw one at Mom, then I get to throw one at Matt,” Megan said. “For being such a twerp and spying on me whenever I had a date.”

  “That couldn’t have been much spying then.” Mark leaned into Megan, bumping shoulders in a sort of high five at his joke. “You had, what, three dates total during high school?”

  “Watch it,” Ned warned. “You’re talking about my wife.”

  “I know, and I want to throw a pie at her,” Mark said, “for being such a tattletale when we were kids.”

  “Being one? She still is,” Matt said. “She told Mom today that I wasn’t planning to come home for Christmas. I get to throw a pie at Megan, too.”

  “That’s not really how the game—”

  “You’re all getting a pie from me,” Mom yelled, cutting Cassie off and wagging her finger around the table. “How many does this game come with? Because I can think of a half dozen reasons each of my kids should be hit with them.”

  “I just need one,” Dad said. “I’ve got good aim, and the target’s front and center and plenty big to see.”

  “You take that back, Tom, or you can sleep on the air mattress with Matt.” Mom pushed back from the table and stood. She began tromping toward the other end.

  “Can spouses play, too?” Laura asked.

  “After me,” Megan said.

  “And me,” Mark added.

  “I think you’re all forgetting who’s in charge,” Mom shouted. “Who made the pies you think you’re going to eat?”

  “I think they’ve all lost their minds.” Matt stood and whispered to Cassie, who appeared completely taken aback by his family as her head moved side to side, trying to follow the ping-ponging conversations. Megan and Mark were arguing about something, and Mom was descending on Dad, the wrath of God written on her face.

  “Did I warn you about my family?” Matt asked.

  “Not nearly enough.” Cassie bit her lip and looked concerned over the chaos her simple suggestion had created. What she didn’t realize was that it would have started sooner or later anyway. It wasn’t a Kramer holiday without someone getting in a fight.

  “I suppose you’d like to throw the first pie in my face?” Matt asked.

  “You have no idea.” The same annoyed expression he’d received from her shortly after their arrival yesterday reappeared.

  “Deserved,” Matt said. “I’ll give you a free throw.”

  The sound of a baby crying interrupted the bickering.

  “Shh.” Mom held her hand up for silence.

  “It’s Catelyn.” Laura put her napkin on the table. “Oh, well. I almost made it through dinner.”

  “I’ll get her,” Cassie offered, seemingly eager for an excuse to leave the table. She started walking toward the hall. “I remember those ‘haven’t had a hot meal in months’ days.”

  “Thanks.” Laura smiled warmly.

  “I’ll bring back the game,” Matt offered as he got up and followed Cassie from the room. She took the stairs two at a time, then disappeared into Mark’s room at the top. A few seconds later Matt caught up and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, cooing at the baby in her arms.

  “You look good with those,” he said as he entered the room. He sat beside her on the end of the bed.

  “Yes, well—” Her eyes darkened with sorrow. “I wanted to have four babies. Devon and I had it all planned out. One every three years, two boys and two girls.”

  “There’s still time for that.” It bothered Matt that this was something he couldn’t fix for her or give to her.

  “Not as much as there used to be. I’ll be thirty-two soon.”

  A joke was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. This wasn’t something to joke about. Cassie was a wonderful mother and ought to have a houseful of kids. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t. Then again, he’d learned in the last year that much of life wasn’t fair. It just seemed especially wrong when the unfairness happened to someone as great as she was. Someone he cared about a lot.

  “Where’s that game at?” Matt slapped his thighs and stood.

  “In your room. I’ll show you.” Still holding Catelyn, she stood and followed him to his old bedroom. “In there.” She nodded her head toward the duffle on the chair.

  “May I?” Matt asked, before he opened it to look.

  “Go ahead.”

  He found the game quickly, seeing nothing more personal than the oversized t-shirt she slept in at the top of the bag, but it was enough to have him remembering that morning in September when he’d fixed her stairs and she’d made him breakfast. The bacon and pancakes had been good, but the real feast had been seeing her standing on the stairs in just that shirt with her hair tousled and a still-sleepy expression on her face. It had felt like a drink of water after being in the desert a long time, and he’d drunk it in greedily until she’d scolded him and reminded him how wrong that was. It was still wrong now, and he felt even thirstier.

  Matt turned around to find Cassie softly humming and bouncing as she walked the baby around the room. Instead of taking the game downstairs, he paused, watching her and yearning for all kinds of things he had no business to be thinking of. What if Cassie was my wife and that was our baby? Those thoughts were dangerous territory. She’d be on the next plane home if she had any idea of them. He wondered what she was thinking, what she thought of his family and being here. Matt looked around the room that had been his for all of his growing up years and tried to see it through her eyes.

  “Just a few trophies in here.” Cassie followed his gaze to the shelves above his bed.

  “A few,” Matt said. “Our high school basketball team was pretty good.”

  “Because you were their all star player?” She’d leaned closer and was reading the plaques.

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Funny how stuff like that just doesn’t matter when you’re grown up.”

  “It mattered to you for a while.” She faced him. “Or basketball did and does at least; I see you played in college, too.” She was staring at a picture of the team beneath his OSU pennant.

  “I played,” Matt said, “and quickly realized that being a small town big shot didn’t mean anything outside of Newport. By mid-semester my freshman year, I realized that my dream of playing in the NBA was just t
hat, a dream.”

  “You still made the sport your career.” Cassie had moved onto his desk, where his mom had created a shrine of his brief and intense career with the Trail Blazers.

  “Yes and no,” Matt said. He picked up a photo of him with the team a couple of years ago. Since he’d left his position with the Trail Blazers, he’d found his enthusiasm for the game just wasn’t there. He supposed it could be because, as his mom said, he worked for the enemy now, but really, Matt thought and hoped it had more to do with realizing that being a dad was much more fun and rewarding than any sport.

  “Thank you, Cassie. I’ll take her now.” Laura entered the room, her arms outstretched.

  “Thanks for letting me hold her.” Cassie passed Catelyn to Laura. “She’s adorable.”

  “Except at three o’clock in the morning,” Laura said.

  “I remember those days, too,” Cassie said wistfully. Matt imagined that she would find a baby adorable any time of day or night if she was given the opportunity to be a mother once more.

  Laura took Catelyn and left the room.

  “Ready to teach this game to my crazy family?” Matt asked.

  “Yep.” Cassie squared her shoulders, and her usual look of resolve returned. He knew how wearying that look could be and the toll it took to keep pressing forward day after day when sometimes you just wanted to stay in bed and not have to face life.

  “How about later when things are getting out of hand with the pie throwing— because you know they will— we go outside and have a little one-on-one basketball? You’ve humbled me enough times, running circles around me on the soccer field. I think a little payback in is order.”

  “You’re on.” Cassie sounded almost chipper as she took the game from him and bounded down the stairs.

  “What, is basketball your game, too?” It’d be a little embarrassing if she trounced him at that as well as soccer.

  “Maybe,” she threw over her shoulder, leaving Matt to spend the evening wondering, and thinking about Cassie a lot more than he should.

  Matt pulled his high school letterman jacket from the front closet. “You can borrow this one.” Before Cassie could protest, he lifted it over her head and placed it around her shoulders.