I didn’t move.
I didn’t say a word.
I remained still, committing this moment to memory.
This was the time I’d learned my mother had died.
***
I’d never attended a funeral, much less been forced to plan one. It didn’t seem fair; she was too young to lose her life to such a cruel disease. I hated that there was no cure and that it was such a painful, degrading way to go. By the time she’d left us, she couldn’t talk, couldn’t control her motor functions, couldn’t swallow, and essentially, lived trapped in a body that refused to work.
I’d never be able to say with any certainty just how cognizant she’d been of anything going on around her or if she’d understood when I told her I was pregnant. I knew she’d kept my secret until her dying breath. I’d told her everything I could about James Carpenter: how we’d met, our laughable sexcapade on the beach, all the way to his undying love for Cora. She’d blinked rapidly when I told her about their fairy-tale romance. It may have been a reflex, but I believed she wanted their love story to work out as much as I did. I also believed she understood why I hadn’t told him about the baby. She’d made the same choice, even if my circumstances were a little different. She hadn’t wanted my father to lose his marriage.
Sitting in the pew of the mostly empty church, I tuned out the minister giving the service in favor of remembering the last conversation I’d had with my mom. I had told her Dottie confessed about my dad, and that I loved her for thinking I was special enough to endure the hard times alone. I also made sure she knew I held no ill will for her decision to keep it a secret. I refused to let her think she would carry that to the grave. It might not have given her any peace because she might not have even been aware of what I said, although I felt lighter with her secret out in the open.
“Chuck Plahniuk once said, ‘The unreal is more power than real, because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it, because it’s only intangible concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles, wood rots. People, well they die. But things as fragile as thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on.’ Janie Airy will go on forever as a legend in the legacy she left. I’ve never met a woman more dedicated to a cause than Janie was to finding a cure for Huntingtons, and in the fight, she touched so many people that her memory will live in the hearts of others for generations to come.”
I recognized the man from the Huntington Foundation. My mom had done fundraising for them most of my life. He was as old as Methuselah, yet he’d known her well. It was nice to think he believed my mother was a legend that would stand the test of time, one as powerful as a dream and as fragile as a thought. I had missed his taking the podium and the preacher stepping down, but I was glad I’d heard that if nothing else.
The music played, and the twenty or so people who’d attended the funeral in Tampa made their way to her graveside. There were more flowers than I could think of what to do with from out-of-state mourners who were unable to attend. However, their sentiment wasn’t lost. The volume of beautiful blooms surrounding her casket and her grave were reminders that my mom had been well-loved. Dottie and I had received countless cards where hundreds of thousands of dollars had been donated to the Huntington Foundation in her memory. She would have been elated that not only had her life brought meaning to those who suffered, but in her death, she’d made one final contribution.
I was numb to it all. I’d shed so many tears over the last year that I almost felt relief it was over, that she wasn’t in pain anymore, and she no longer had to endure in a body that gave out long ago. My face was the only one that was dry next to the gravesite, though no one commented on my lack of a breakdown. It would come, I was sure of it—most likely when I felt safe knowing that no one would witness my final goodbye.
After everyone departed, Dottie waited in the car while I watched them lower her casket into the ground. There was no music playing, no words spoken, just a silent exodus from the earth. When the first shovelful of dirt hit the wood, I couldn’t bear the sound, the hollow thud, knowing my mother was underneath. And I turned and fled.
Once back in the car, I took the passenger seat. I was in no shape to drive. My hands hadn’t stopped shaking since Dottie came into my room, and I felt like I was in a continuous state of confusion. Although, Dottie assured me it was natural to feel so disorientated after losing a loved one. My attempt to steady my fingers by placing them over my belly worked for the time being, but probably only because I fell asleep.
“Sweetheart.” Dottie’s hand patted my leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’re home. Let’s go inside.”
My eyes fluttered open only to realize it hadn’t been a dream. And every day from now on, I’d wake up as an orphan.
I just sat there and stared through the windshield at the sky changing colors as the sun set, wondering if it would get any easier. My mind struggled to process that she was really gone and not still lying in a hospital bed in Tampa. It had been ages since she’d had an active part in my daily life, but I struggled to let go of the notion that I could go see her tomorrow.
Stretching my legs in front of me, I reached for the handle to open the door. Yet when I went to get out, the tingles in my limbs left my legs more like Jell-O than something sturdy enough to walk on. And before I could sit back down or steady myself on the door, I stumbled to the ground, landing on my side.
“Chelsea? Are you all right?” Instantly, Dottie was by my side to help me up.
“Yeah, my legs were asleep. I’ll be okay.” I pushed myself off the ground, thankful I hadn’t landed on my stomach, and dusted myself off. My bruised ego was nothing compared to my broken heart.
“Come on, I’ll make us some coffee.” She linked her arm with mine to escort me inside without making me feel like she was coddling me.
“I’m really beat, Dottie. I think I’m going to lie down.” I didn’t mention that I was going to call Carp. She still didn’t know his name, and I had no interest in revisiting that argument. It had been a long day, and I wanted nothing more than to say hello and then sink into the comfort of my mattress and bury myself in covers.
***
“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” I hadn’t made the phone call to Carp the night of my mom’s funeral. I couldn’t bring myself to dial because I couldn’t bear for him to ask how things had gone.
“Yeah, I leave in less than eight hours. I’ve got to be at JFK at oh-dark-thirty.”
“I should let you go so you can get some sleep.”
“I can talk for a bit. I doubt I’ll sleep anyhow.”
I went through the checklist of things he needed to remember…like I was his mother instead of some strange cell phone pen pal he’d picked up at his father’s birthday party. “The ring. If you don’t remember anything other than the ring and your passport, you’ll be fine.”
“Got them both.”
“Don’t put the ring in your suitcase. I’ve heard the airlines search them, and you could lose it to someone who gets grabby in security.”
“Jesus, that would send me into a tailspin. Can you imagine?”
I couldn’t, which was why I told him not to do it. “Nope, it would be horrible. Have you finalized your plan for how you’re going to propose?”
Knowing it had to be perfect, he’d debated on this for weeks. I tried to listen as he shared his final ideas with me on how he’d ask Cora to be his wife, except my mind drifted when the little life inside me fluttered. And I wondered for the umpteenth time if I was making the right decision.
“What do you think my chances are?”
I jolted back to the topic at hand. “Of Cora saying yes?”
“Yeah. I mean, you don’t know her, but what would you say if you were in her position?”
“I’m a romantic at heart, so I wouldn’t be able to resist. If she loves you the way you do her, she’d be a fool to say no. Have some confidence. This is what you want, right?”
“Definitely.”
<
br /> “Then the only way to get it is to ask for it. You can’t control what happens from there.” And if she says no, you’ll have another surprise waiting for you when you return. Although, I didn’t say any of that, or even hint at it.
He yawned, and I needed to let him go. He didn’t need to miss his flight because he’d been on the phone all night.
“You sound tired, so I’m going to let you get off here. Promise me you’ll let me know what she says.”
“Of course. You’ll be the first person I tell.”
“Have a safe trip.”
“Hey, Chelsea?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about your mom. I know you haven’t wanted to talk about it, but I’ve been really worried about you.”
I took a deep breath and fought back the tears. “Thank you. I’m doing as well as can be expected. I just miss her.”
“I’m here anytime you need to talk. I really mean that.”
“I’m sure you do, but it won’t bring her back—it’ll only bring you down. I’ll find a way to move on. I’m sure I’ll have something else to take my mind off it in a couple months.” He had no idea how true those words were. “Promise, I’ll be okay.”
“Maybe when Cora comes home, the three of us could get together. I’d love for the two of you to meet.” He meant well, but he didn’t have a clue what he was suggesting. “She could tell you all about Paris, and you could regale her with stories of the socialites you work with in Geneva Key.” The humor in his voice made me smile. In another time and another place, his wish might have come true.
What he didn’t know was that by the time Cora came home, her fiancé would have a baby that was almost two months old, a baby neither of them was aware of. I doubted she’d welcome me and an infant carrier to New York with open arms. Only time would tell.
“That would be great.” And it would be, if there were a chance in hell it’d happen. but However, if Cora said yes, my time with James Carpenter would come to a close. I wouldn’t lie to him, but I couldn’t tell him the truth, and the only way to avoid that was to disappear the same way my dad had done.
“Get some rest. I’ll let you know how things go.”
I didn’t expect to hear from him until after he proposed, and likely not before he returned from Paris. It would be a long ten-day wait. I’d put destiny in the hands of fate, and now I just had to wait to see which way she leaned.
13
James
Seven and a half hours on a plane seemed like an exorbitant amount of time until I was on said aircraft waiting to reunite with my future at the other end. It had flown by in nervous anticipation, and when the wheels hit the ground, my stomach threatened a revolt. My anxiety hit the roof, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get out of my seat and down the aisle unassisted. I didn’t even want to talk about the form I had to fill out for customs—it wasn’t even legible my hands shook so badly.
I fumbled with my luggage and got in the endless line to trudge through customs. They were going to think I was a heroin mule due to the volume of sweat pouring off my face—and fuck, my heart raced like I’d just swam across the ocean instead of flown. I looked guilty, and no one would believe it was just jitters from seeing the love of my life.
Thankfully, by the time I got to the front of the line, I’d chilled out. I answered the man’s questions regarding why I was entering the country and where I was going. He scanned my passport and waved me through without ever cracking a smile.
Cora was like a beacon of light standing on the outskirts of the crowd of people coming and going. I would have seen her a mile away, even if she hadn’t spotted me and waved frantically. A smile stretched across my face at her enthusiasm. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined she could be more beautiful than the last time I’d seen her, but somehow, she was. I couldn’t pinpoint what had changed, yet whatever it was looked good on her.
The instant I broke free from the massive hordes, she took off in my direction, and I dropped my bags to catch her in my arms. The force she hit me with caused me to step back a bit to brace us from falling, but the moment she hugged my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist, I knew she’d come home. The scent of her lavender shampoo filled my nostrils when I inhaled deeply, and she buried her face in the crook of my neck. Nothing ever felt so right. Had we not been standing in an airport, I would have held her as long as she’d let me. But we were, and there were people everywhere, so I reluctantly set her on her feet and kept her close.
With no regard for consequences, I captured her face in my hands and tilted it up. Her eyes were filled with tears, and the smile told me they were of joy. My lids closed, and I bent down, meeting her lips with mine. There was no hesitation, no retreat—she joined me, parting to allow my tongue entrance. Each pass sent a tingle straight to my dick, and if I weren’t careful, he’d be standing at attention. Every cell in my body responded to her touch, her scent, her taste—I could feast a lifetime on Cora Chase.
The catcall from out in the distance broke the kiss, and she blushed a warm pink before she blotted at her mouth with her delicate fingers.
I picked up my bag, slung the strap over one shoulder, and rolled the other behind me.
She took my free hand. “We should get out of here.”
“Lead the way.” I’d follow her anywhere she wanted to go.
The two of us jabbered on like we hadn’t spent a day apart in eighteen months. Cora pointed out everything she could as we drove, yet I couldn’t take it all in fast enough. Once something caught my attention, she pointed in the other direction. And while nothing was off, it dawned on me that Cora lived in another world—one I knew nothing about.
Her flat was small, even in comparison to apartments in New York, although she’d made it her own. I’d never seen a single thing in the place, but I could have identified it all as hers. Girly and classy, with a hint of edge. Industrial feminine—I should coin that term. The kitchen was the size of my bathroom, the living room the size of my kitchen, and a queen bed took up the majority of the space in her one bedroom.
“It’s small compared to spaces in the States. In order to live close to work, I gave up certain luxuries. I’m comfortable here, though.” The graceful grin that hugged her cheeks made me swoon in a way only Cora could.
“It’s you. I like it.”
She took my bags and set them in the corner of her room before turning her head, suddenly appearing nervous. “So, should we go out? Stay in? Take a nap?”
I’d flown through the night, but even if I hadn’t, I’d be too wired to sleep. I only had ten days to remind Cora of why she belonged in the United States—I wasn’t wasting time napping…unless she was naked next to me.
“Can we go for a walk, talk? Keep it low-key today?” I’d struggled with whether or not to bring all this up on my first day; although, I also couldn’t wait until the last, either. There needed to be as much distance as possible between my confession and proposal.
“Absolutely. I can make dinner when we get back, and we can have wine and catch up. Just let me put on some tennis shoes.” She kissed my cheek before going to dig through her closet.
The two of us strolled hand in hand down the sidewalks of Paris. The streets were narrow and the architecture stunning, though nothing rivalled the company. She led me to a park, and our pace became much more casual. The wind whipped around us, yet the cold was nothing compared to the wet chill of New York in December.
“I’ve told you this a million times since we started talking again, but I’ve missed you, James.” Even though her attention was set off in the distance, her words were inviting.
“I’ve missed you, too. I feel like this is a dream I’ll wake up from and wonder how I’ll recover.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” The hope in her voice launched butterflies in my stomach.
I felt like a nervous teen out on our first date again. Except instead of the beach, we were in a park—and this time, I was at her merc
y instead of her at mine.
“Do you miss us? As a couple.” With her last word, her eyes met mine.
“Every day.”
“I have a confession to make.” The sheepish look on her face made my stomach flop, and not in a good way. “I thought when I saw you again that I wouldn’t love you anymore.”
I hadn’t expected that. Neil had been right, or Hannah—whoever.
“I knew my heart would know. This may sound dumb, but I argued with my head and my heart for weeks before I left. My heart longed to stay with you; my head insisted I go. In the end, I convinced myself this would be best for both of us.”
“How could leaving someone you love be best for either of us?” There was no hiding the confusion or irritation from my voice.
She stopped and dropped my hand in favor of my cheek. The weak smile she offered did nothing to calm my ragged breath. “I needed to be certain I had lived for me. We’d been together since we were seventeen. I’d never even dated anyone else. You were my world.”
“And you were mine, so I don’t see why that was a bad thing.”
“It wasn’t.” Her brows rose, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I just never wanted to resent or regret following you around the country. I never wanted to look back and wonder what if. I needed to know that at the end of the day, we both experienced what life had to offer and chose to come back together, not because we’d never tried anything else, but because we never wanted anything else.”
“I just wish you’d talked to me about it.”
“Would you have let me go willingly?”
The wind rustled through the trees, creating a static around us that offered me a moment to contemplate my answer. “Truthfully, no.”
“Please believe, I never wanted to leave. I always thought we’d find our way back together. But I couldn’t tell you that, or you wouldn’t have lived while I was gone…just existed.”
“I never thought I’d hear from you again, Cora. The months after you left were not my finest hour.”
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