Between Heaven and Earth

by Michele Paige Holmes

  Matt placed a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of Cassie, then slid a bowl of salad beside her plate and a glass of milk beside that. “Your dinner, complete with the dairy, grain, vegetable, and meat food groups.” He dropped into the chair beside her and inclined his head toward the kitchen. “And a pile of dishes in the sink to show for such nutrition.”

  “It looks delicious,” Cassie said. “You’ve come a long way from peanut butter and jelly in just a few short months.” It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to wash the dishes, but she knew he’d join her, and washing dishes together was just one of many activities she now deemed off limits. She shouldn’t be here eating dinner at his place, but she’d had to pick up Noah, and Matt deserved some sort of explanation for what she was about to do.

  “How was visiting Devon?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Cassie said. It certainly hadn’t been her best visit, more like a confessional. “I told him about our weekend, about sitting too close to you on the couch, letting you put your arm around me when we were outside on the wall, and feeling incredibly attracted to you when we were playing basketball.”

  “Time out.” Matt made a T with his hands. “You find me attractive? This is news to me.”

  “Not all the time.” Cassie made a face at him, then instantly regretted it. Here they were, teasing and flirting again when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Basically I just had to tell my husband that I’ve been on the path to being an unfaithful wife.”

  “I wouldn’t. We wouldn’t—”

  “We already were,” Cassie said, cutting Matt off. “Sleeping together isn’t the only way to be unfaithful. Tonight, when I was sitting on Devon’s bed talking to him, I was thinking about you.”

  Instead of the lighthearted comeback she’d expected, Matt was silent.

  “I don’t blame you,” Cassie said. “Or even myself, necessarily. It’s just one of those things that happened, and it can’t.”

  “We’re not something that just happened.” Matt sounded exasperated. “Our meeting was, I don’t know, providential. You’re a miracle who came into our lives, and I like to think I might have been a little of the same to you.”

  “You are— were,” Cassie said, “but now it has to stop. Don’t you see, Matt? There’s nowhere for us to go from here but into trouble. Your parents were right.”

  He looked up sharply. “You heard that?”

  “Overheard your conversation with them, yes.” Cassie omitted telling him that she’d knelt on the bathroom floor and pressed her ear to the vent.

  “I’ve ruined everything by bringing you to Oregon.” Elbow on the table, Matt leaned forward, bracing his head in his hand. “We should have just stayed here for Thanksgiving.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything.” Against her better judgment, Cassie reached out to him, placing her hand on Matt’s arm. “The trip may have hastened our arrival at this inevitable crossroads, but it certainly didn’t cause it. I’m glad that we went.”

  At this, Matt looked up at her with what seemed a glimmer of hope in his expression. Cassie exchanged a wistful smile with him.

  “It’s a memory I’ll always treasure. I thank you for that.”

  “What about Noah?” Matt asked, sounding pained and causing Cassie to wonder if his mind was filtering through the same images as hers— Noah shooting hoops with Matt and the boys, Noah’s face, sticky with the caramel corn Matt had made, Noah nestled between Austin and Asher as Matt tucked them in.

  “Noah needs you,” Cassie said. “You’ve been like a father to him.”

  “Anything I’ve done is little compared to what you’ve done to help Austin and Asher.”

  “I want to keep helping them,” Cassie said. “I still want to watch them after school on nights you work late, and I’d love for Noah to spend Saturday mornings at your place while I work on getting licensed to start using my degree.”

  “At least I’ve convinced you to pursue the career you dreamed of,” Matt said.

  Cassie withdrew her hand from his arm, where it had lingered too long, and felt a pang of sorrow, thinking that would be their last touch. He’d never kissed her and had only held her hand in a gesture of comfort or to pull her into a room that night they’d cleaned his apartment, but dozens of times, they’d accidentally touched when doing dishes, playing board games with the boys, and getting in and out of his truck. She’d craved that slight contact and having Matt close. She was going to miss it, miss him— his companionship, friendship, and so much more.

  She looked down at her dinner and felt bad for not eating it but knew she couldn’t. She could barely swallow right now, for the lump that had formed in her throat. Don’t you dare cry, she told herself. At least not now, not here.

  But when she chanced a look at Matt as he rose quickly from the table, it was to find that he was fighting his own similar battle, and losing.

  Mark fell onto the sofa beside Matt. “Why so glum, bro? Santa didn’t bring you what you wanted for Christmas?” He nodded at the tree and the piles of discarded boxes and wrapping paper beneath.

  “Not exactly.” Matt knew he needed to shake his somber mood. He didn’t want to ruin the holiday for everyone, especially Austin and Asher, who appeared, for the most part, to be doing all right today.

  “If I had a time machine, I’d give it to you so you could be with Jenna again,” Mark said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “I wish I could.”

  “Thanks,” Matt said, knowing this was as close as they would get to being able to discuss any of what he’d gone through the past year. Mark was pretty consistent at being good for a laugh, but he’d never been one for dealing with serious issues.

  “I don’t think I’d choose to go back, though.” This wasn’t a reflection on Jenna or their marriage, but more on himself and what he’d learned from losing her. “A year ago I was a self-centered jackass.”

  “Who says you still aren’t?” Mark nudged him.

  “Only around you and to you.” Matt managed a smile. “But not around my boys any more. I love them, really love them. They’re everything.”

  “You wouldn’t want to go back and feel that same way about your wife?” Mark asked.

  “Of course I would,” Matt said. For months now he’d wished for one more night with her, one more hour, a few minutes even, to say he was sorry, to try to express the depth of love he had felt for her, though he’d been lousy at showing it. “But if going back in time meant that I’d go back to being the old me, I wouldn’t want that.”

  “Ah.” Mark nodded his head, understanding. “Well, good thing my gift didn’t materialize then. Anything else I can get you? Maybe a long-legged, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl from California?”

  “You better not have been checking out Cassie’s legs when she was here.” Matt glared at Mark.

  “Not as much as you were— and everything else about her.” Mark raised his eyebrows knowingly. “For once, Meg was right. There was a bit of a ravenous wolf aura about you over Thanksgiving.”

  “You try going without basic needs or affection for almost a year and see how well you fare.”

  “Imagining such a fate is bad enough,” Mark conceded. “I am sorry that things with Cassie aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Oh, they’ve gone,” Matt said. “In reverse. It’s like I lived through the death of a spouse and then a divorce less than a year later.”

  “Can’t be divorced if you weren’t ever married.” Mark kicked his feet up on the coffee table and leaned his head back on the couch.

  “It sure feels like it,” Matt said. “Like neither of us wanted it, but it happened anyway.”

  “At least you’re not dealing with a custody battle or alimony,” Mark said.

  “We share our kids very well,” Matt said. “In fact, it’s all about them. Cassie still watches the boys after school. Noah comes over to my place to play on Saturdays, but she never walks him to the door, never stays to chat for a min
ute. I’m lucky if I get a wave as she drives away.”

  “I’m sorry if we scared her off at Thanksgiving. I know I harassed her a bit, but she seemed pretty able to hold her own. I mean, pie in the face and all.”

  “You didn’t scare her off,” Matt said. “I did. I started treating her like she wasn’t married, like we might become more than friends, and that was it. We were done.”

  “Before you even started,” Mark said.

  Matt nodded, but he knew that wasn’t entirely truthful. He’d developed plenty of feelings for Cassie in the few months of their friendship, and that morning on the beach, she’d led him to believe that she felt something for him, too. It would have been perfect, everything on his Christmas list and more, if they could just be together.

  Life wasn’t fair. Not six and a half years ago, not last January, not now.

  Cassie stared at her phone on the counter as she wrestled with the idea of calling Matt, much as she’d agonized over a similar phone call to a practical stranger last September. It had been Matt who’d ended up calling her then, saving her from having to take the first step, reaching out to him. With his phone call, it had been so easy, almost natural, to suggest that their boys play together. Everything had snowballed from there until a crash and burn seemed almost inevitable. And so she’d pulled out before someone got seriously hurt or she made a terrible decision.

  Cassie felt grateful for the willpower she’d managed to marshal to keep her distance from Matt the last month. Every day the separation seemed it would kill her. He was one of her first thoughts in the morning and her last at night, like Devon used to be.

  She was starting to fear that the adage “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” was not only true but might be her undoing as well. Instead of her feelings for Matt fading into the background as she’d hoped they would, they only seemed to be growing stronger. Life had not returned to the way it was before she met him. Now, along with missing Devon, she had to suffer through each day missing Matt while knowing they could be together if only she’d choose it.

  I can’t. I won’t. This misery is punishment for allowing my thoughts to stray in the first place.

  For the week, at least, Matt and his boys were away. She was safe from herself a few more days. So what would one phone call hurt? It was Christmas, after all, and Matt was her friend. She should call him today.

  This decided at last, Cassie picked up her phone and called, before she could talk herself out of it. She couldn’t remember a lonelier Christmas. She needed to hear Matt’s voice.

  But his voicemail would have to do since he didn’t answer. Instead of hanging up like a coward, she left a simple, brief message.

  “Hi, Matt. It’s Cassie. Sorry I missed you. I’ll bet your family is at the theater seeing the next Star Wars movie or something. I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas. I hope your day was wonderful and that Austin and Asher are having a good time. Noah misses them and you.”

  I miss you. She didn’t dare say it and disconnected the call instead, then set the phone down and stared across the room.

  “I miss you,” she whispered, “and I love you. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  The evening news droned in the background as Cassie folded a week’s worth of laundry, stacking the clean piles precariously on the arms and back of the loveseat. She knew she ought to go to bed soon— Noah would be up early as usual tomorrow— but her mind was still too preoccupied with tonight’s visit with Devon for her to sleep.

  The visit hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. If anything, it felt like the hundreds of other Friday nights she’d spent with him over the past six years, nearly six and a half. Another half of a year had passed without him. He’d missed another Christmas, he hadn’t been awake to kiss her at midnight on New Year’s Eve. In a couple of weeks, he wasn’t going to be at home to spend Valentine's together. In years past, she’d always hoped for those things, but tonight the lonely reality of her life and existence seemed to be staring her in the face. Nothing has changed. Nothing is going to change. I’m going to be alone forever. Even worse, Noah is never going to know his father.

  A pile of Noah’s shirts fell off the arm of the couch into an unfolded heap on the floor. With a weary sigh, Cassie leaned forward, collected the clothing, and began refolding. It was a good simile of her life. Wash, dry, fold, repeat. She’d been doing the same things over and over again. While there had been definite moments of joy— all centered around Noah— life wasn’t going the direction she wanted it to. She didn’t see how it ever could unless something changed.

  An image of Devon’s strange visitor last September came to mind. Pearl, she’d said her name was. She’d imparted words as if they were priceless pearls of wisdom, and Cassie had ignored them. It had taken some work to do so, particularly during those months she and Matt had grown close and again after her mother had given her practically the same advice, but always Cassie came back to the same conclusion. I can’t tell Devon to go. I can’t give up on him. For better or worse, forever meant just that.

  “And so I fold laundry alone on Friday nights.” With another sigh, Cassie left the piles to be put away tomorrow and headed to the bathroom. She’d just put toothpaste on her toothbrush when her phone vibrated on the kitchen table.

  Her gaze flew to the picture of Devon taped to the corner of the mirror. She’d just been thinking of him, but she’d also been allowing herself to succumb to the bleak possibility that he was never going to wake up. If I lose hope, does Devon lose, too? She’d been feeling as if she couldn’t do this any longer. Is that when the miracle will happen?

  No one but the care center would be calling her at 10:30 on a Friday night, and only then if there was some change with Devon. Toothbrush still in hand, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed her phone. Matt’s number flashed on the screen.

  “No.” He hadn’t called her for the past two months, not since she’d asked him not to. Why now? Cassie sank into a chair, dropping both the phone and toothbrush, burying her head in her hands, and hurting deeply for those few seconds of hope.

  Just one little miracle. I just need Devon to wake up. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? She’d grown up learning about a God who could help man to part the sea and a Savior who raised people from the dead. So why couldn’t Devon return to her? She’d had faith that he would for so long, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her prayers weren’t being answered.

  The phone ceased ringing, replaced by the sound of her frustration unleashed in a violent fit of sobbing.

  Why God, why? In this moment, those things that had sustained her so long were failing completely. She couldn’t think of all those who were less fortunate than her. Why do they have to be less fortunate, too? Why can’t we all have our loved ones whole and with us? Why can’t Noah and I have Devon? All she could think of was sleeping alone for the rest of her life, never having a baby girl of her own, Noah growing up and leaving her by herself.

  Tears wet her shirt sleeves, and her nose ran. Cassie’s chest heaved with convulsions as she poured out her grief and loneliness. It isn’t fair. I’m so tired of it. She loved Noah; she was grateful to be his mom, but it wasn’t enough. This life she had wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a life, not the one she wanted, anyway.

  Her phone chimed, letting her know there was a message. Cassie felt like throwing it across the room or calling Matt back and yelling at him. What did he mean by calling her at 10:30 on a Friday night? How could he not realize what that would do to her? He wasn’t supposed to call anyway. They weren’t doing that whole friendship thing anymore. It was too hard, too painful, made her feel too much like she did right now, that she was missing out on what she wanted most desperately in her life.

  Someone to love me.

  It was like a pathetic, sappy song from the radio from one of those soft rock stations she never let herself listen to because the songs always made her sad. Avoiding them wasn’t enough. Everything made her sad lately. Every day her loneliness intens
ified.

  Anger was better. Cassie grasped onto this, directing her frustration at Matt since he’d breached etiquette to call her. She wiped her nose on the back of her already-wet sleeve, then picked up her phone and played the message back. She’d listen and then she’d call him back and let him know what a train wreck his simple little call had set off.

  “Hi, Cassie. Sorry to bother you. I was hoping you were still up. I have a favor to ask—”

  Of course. She wondered what it was this time. Head lice again? Maybe he needed her to babysit so he could take some other woman out on a date.

  “I know we said we weren’t going to see each other anymore or do things that felt like a family. I understand and respect that, so I shouldn’t even ask.”

  Yeah. You shouldn’t.

  “But I’m hoping you’ll make an exception.”

  Cassie blew out a puff of air, sending the hair closest to her face askew.

  “It would be for one day only. Tomorrow, actually.”

  Thanks for the notice. Matt’s message was digging him deeper.

  “I’ve got a full day planned for the boys and me, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough. Asher will be all right. He’s handled it better all along, but Austin is struggling. I’ve read it in his expressions the past few days. I’m worried, Cassie.”

  Me, too. The past week or so she’d noticed that Austin didn’t seem to be himself. Was he reverting back to the way he’d been when Matt and the boys first moved here? Is it because the five of us don’t spend time together like we used to?

  “I’m not going to lie, it promises to be a hard day for me, too. I’m going to do my best to be patient with Austin, but we aren’t starting out good already. I’m a wreck, and he’s on the bubble at least.”

  Matt hadn’t been what she’d term a wreck since well before Thanksgiving. What had happened to change that? Cassie pressed the phone closer to her ear, feeling like she must have missed some vital piece of information.