by Bonnie Dee
Gina was right to run screaming for the hills. I was a loser of the highest caliber, not worth her spending another second on. I only wished she’d needed a little more convincing before leaving me flat. I supposed I had only myself to blame for that too. I’d started to almost believe that things could be different for me, but I should have known better and not allowed myself to hope for a happy ending that I could never live up to.
Chapter Eighteen
Gina
The priest’s voice delivering a eulogy for a woman he’d never met echoed in the nearly empty church. Only Sonia’s lawyer, a handful of old people, and I were scattered across the first few rows of pews.
I stared at the casket—closed, thank God—and then at the large photo of Sonia taken over a decade earlier and another of her as a pretty teenager. She’d been beautiful in her youth and regal in her later years. She’d been involved in civic projects and sat on the boards of numerous nonprofits, respected by all back in her day. Though she’d never held a job except as spouse to a very wealthy man, she’d done important work in the community and for the world at large. But who was here now to remember it? No children or grandchildren to mourn her passing or keep her memory.
I looked around at the nodding white heads, at the priest in his vestments, at the roses on the coffin, and back to Sonia’s much younger face. I’d never been to a more depressing funeral in my life.
At long last, the priest brought the eulogy and then the service to a conclusion. He gave directions to the cemetery should anyone wish to attend the interment, and then the pallbearers from the funeral home wheeled the casket off to the hearse.
I shuffled out of the church behind a gentleman with a walker and inhaled a deep lungful of freezing cold air when I got outside. It made my nose crackle but cleared out the scent of candle wax and incense. The last thing I wanted was to go to the grave site, but I had a feeling I might be the only one there. Sonia’s old friends wouldn’t be able to bear this frigid wind.
I got in my car and dutifully followed the hearse from church to boneyard, then trudged up the steep incline to the open plot. Sonia’s lawyer stood by me. There was only one other elderly man, hat in hands, waiting for the priest to finish his final blessing.
Bon voyageee! Bugs Bunny’s voice repeated on a merciless loop in my mind as the motorized gears kicked in and the coffin began to lower. Damn, would this ever end? The Sonia I knew, the lucid one, would have hated this drawn-out extravaganza. Bone-dry up to now, my eyes began to tear from the stiff breeze and the finality of that descending casket.
My gaze met the old man’s across the grave. He dipped his head, and I nodded back, wondering who he was.
As we three and the priest walked back to our cars, the white-haired man with the piercing gaze spoke to me. “You were close to Sonia?”
“I was her caretaker at the end. She was a lovely person. It seems like she lived a full life. How did you know her?” I asked.
A smile curved his mouth. “I hardly did. Once long ago and for a very brief time. Our lives went in very different directions.”
My heart leaped into my throat. I could hardly breathe. This was the man, the one she’d told me was the lost love of her live. “Are you…” What was the name? I couldn’t remember it. “Did you date Sonia one summer when you were teenagers?”
His brown eyes opened wide, the wrinkles seeming to disappear from around them. “She mentioned me?”
I nodded vigorously. “Just once. Recently. She told me about that summer and how much it meant to her, how she often wondered what would have happened if she’d made a different choice. I believe she loved you deeply. You were the one she let get away, and I think she regretted that.”
Tears trickled down his cheeks without warning. He didn’t sob or ugly cry. The tears were like a gentle fall of rain.
“It all worked out as it should. I had forty wonderful years with my wife, and I have three children and seven grandchildren who I love more than life.” He shook his head. “If Sonia had run off with me when I asked, would we have had the same children or different little souls or none at all? Would we have been happy together or would she have missed her lifestyle and eventually resented me? Roads not taken will always be a mystery.”
I stood there nodding, not knowing what to say as I wiped away tears from my own cheeks.
“I don’t regret, but I have wondered,” he continued. “And when I saw the obituary yesterday, I had to come and pay my respects. I needed to say good-bye again.”
“Of course.” I stepped toward him, wrapped my arms around him, and hugged. He felt like a scarecrow, so fragile and boneless. “Can I walk you to your car, Mr. …Hawkins?” I remembered his name at last. Joseph Hawkins, the boy from the wrong social circle.
He took my arm, and we walked slowly to his vehicle. He paused beside it. “You’re a very sweet girl. I’m sure you took good care of Sonia. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”
“I’m glad I met you, Mr. Hawkins. And I’m glad you were able to see Sonia once more, so to speak.” I smiled at him as he carefully climbed into the driver’s seat. “Take care.”
I waited to watch him drive off. It was like reading the end of a bittersweet story. The hero and heroine never got together, but life had still been good for them. Still, it wasn’t emotionally satisfying for the reader.
Approaching the grave site, another car passed Mr. Hawkins’s. My stomach gave a huge flip and my pulse began to race. Micah’s car!
I swallowed down my rush of excitement as he pulled to a stop, got out, and walked toward me.
“I’m late. I’m so sorry. I wanted to be here for the funeral.”
“Why? You hardly knew her.”
He glanced up the hill. The diggers watched us, waiting for the last of the mourners to leave so they could carry on with their work. “I knew today would be hard for you. I thought you could use a…a friend.”
I didn’t say anything. Was that how we’d left it? That we would continue to be friends? I didn’t remember that part of the conversation. All I really wanted to do was throw myself at Micah, have his body bringing warmth back into mine.
“I’m sorry. You don’t want me here. I shouldn’t have come.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his tan camel wool coat, circa the time period Joseph Hawkins and Sonia had been lovers. “Besides, I’m too late.”
He started to turn, prepared to walk away. I had to stop him.
“I…”
Micah turned back, fixed those blazing blue eyes on me. They shone brighter than their usual indigo, almost like sapphires on this cold bright day. The sunlight touched his hair, bringing out the coppery tones so it seemed to nearly blaze. He’d never looked more handsome, more desirable, more like someone absolutely necessary to me.
“Thank you for coming. It was kind of you.” I wanted to blurt more. I wanted to tell him how sad I felt, how depressingly pathetic the funeral had been, and to share the story of Sonia’s lost love, everything I would normally have told him. But none of that came out. We wouldn’t be going for coffee together to talk about things. We were supposed to be over.
I had to remind myself—and him—why. “How is that situation coming along?” I asked.
“Working on it.” He stared down at the toes of his two-tone lace-ups, then looked at me again. “Once I get this thing resolved, do you think we could…Maybe we could try again. I swear I’m done getting myself into this kind of shit. It won’t ever happen again.”
He still hadn’t told me the exact details of “this thing.” Part of me didn’t want to know. How much of a criminal was he? Who was he?
And who was I if I swallowed whatever line he told me just so we could be together?
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Micah. This is something I have to think about. I can’t give you an answer today.”
He nodded and dropped his laser gaze from me. “Sure. I understand.” He cleared his throat, then added, “I’m sorry for your loss
.”
“Thank you.”
I watched him walk back to his car, and with every step, I was a breath away from calling after him to stop. I only felt safe from myself after he’d driven off, leaving me alone on the hill but for the cemetery crew.
I got into my own car and turned the heater up full blast as I headed out of the city. I still had no place to stay. I’d only thought about saving money when I sublet my apartment. It seemed wasteful to pay rent on space I wasn’t using, so I’d arranged a renter while I lived at Mrs. Heidelberg’s house. But I hadn’t counted on the suddenness of her death leaving me basically homeless.
I couldn’t keep crashing at Leah’s place as I’d done for several days after Sonia’s death. My renter had till the end of the month to vacate. In the meantime, I’d have to arrange some pay-by-the-day rental, but just then all I wanted was to fly home to my family nest and see my mom and dad. I needed to sleep in my old bed and be their little girl again just for a night.
Several hours later, I sat at the kitchen table talking to my mom, the scents of pot roast and cinnamon filling the air. She’d even baked an apple pie for me. Straight from the freezer to the oven, but still, the delicious aroma smelled homemade.
My mom is rarely still. She charges through each day like a general marshaling troops. Whether at home or at work, she’s a ball of energy who gets things accomplished and inspires others to do the same. But now she sat on a stool facing me across the table, a cup of hot tea resting between her idle hands as she waited for me to talk. When I was a teen, I used to face one of these sharing moments like it was torture. Now I appreciated the chance to unburden myself to someone who knew me so well.
“You loved her,” Mom said. “It’s hard to lose someone even when you’re expecting it, or even when you try to keep a professional distance. I think caring for the elderly is downright heroic. I know I couldn’t do it.”
I cupped my tea, warming my hands and not drinking. “I’m sure you could. You took care of Grandma before she passed.”
“Not in my home and not on a daily basis. I still feel guilty about having her in a nursing home, but she was beyond my ability to care for. And I had to keep working.”
“Grandma knew you loved her. She knew we all loved her, even if some of us didn’t visit often.” I frowned. “Didn’t she?”
My grandmother had died during the time I was out in California, failing at my first big relationship, then struggling to survive. In fact, it was her death that finally made me swallow my pride and brought me back home.
“She knew, honey.” Mom shrugged. “And she loved us too, as much as she was able. You know what she was like.”
I nodded. The bad-tempered, sharp-tongued, mean woman wasn’t anyone’s idea of a grandmotherly type. She’d made my mom’s childhood pretty unpleasant.
“Today, at the funeral, I couldn’t stop thinking about how fast life goes,” I said. “And how making one choice over another can literally change your entire life. Like what if I hadn’t chased after Jeff and had continued working on my degree instead? What kind of job would I have now? What people might I have met instead? How would my life be different?”
“You can’t dwell on what-ifs. There is no ‘wrong,’ only life lessons. You take what you can from each one and grow.”
I smiled. “You get wiser every time I talk to you. Why didn’t we get along like this when I lived at home?”
“Because you were a teenager. It was your job to think I didn’t know anything.” She rose and went to stir one of her pots on the stove.
Having her turned away from me made it easier for me to ask, “How do you know when it’s good to support somebody who’s in trouble and when you’re just being an enabler or doormat?”
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Whew, you’re full of tough questions today. I guess I’d say it depends on what the issue is. Are you thinking of someone in particular?”
“Maybe.” I knew she knew it was Micah. “I realize I’m prone to thinking I can fix messed-up guys. I want to break free of that role. But…” I shrugged.
“But you really like him.” She turned to face me. “Do you think he’s worth it? What sort of trouble is he in? Is it something you can even do anything about, or does he need to work through it on his own? The most important question, as far as I’m concerned, is will this put you in harm’s way? As your mother, I can’t support you being with any man who will hurt you.”
“No. He’s not like that.” But every other question she’d asked I had to answer negatively. It sounded like Micah was in serious trouble. I couldn’t help with it, and it might put me in danger. The wise thing to do would be to steer clear as he’d told me to do. After that, maybe things would be different and I’d reconsider my hard line.
“He showed up at the funeral today,” I told her. “He came to support me, even though we’re technically not seeing each other. It was really sweet.”
“Bad guys can do sweet things,” Mom said dryly. “On the other hand, good guys can do bad things. Like when your dad made that investment that about wiped out our savings. Stupid! That’s the kind of ‘for worse’ that requires sticking by your man. But this guy… How long have you known him? A few weeks? A month?”
“Not long,” I admitted. Yet oddly it felt like I understood Micah better than some people I’d known for years. There was a connection between us beyond explanation. How could I describe that without sounding like a dizzy romantic?
I got up from the table and went to the stove. My mom pulled me into a strong hug that smoothed over all my jagged spots and made me feel better. I clung to her for a few moments before pulling away.
“Thanks. And thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Of course you can stay here as long as you need to. You know that.”
“It’s a long drive back. I’d rather be close to wherever my next assignment is. Maybe it’ll even be another live-in situation.”
Mom grabbed my chin and looked me in the eyes. “Seriously, though. If this Micah is no good for you, don’t waste any time on him. Don’t fall for another Jeff.”
I winced. She had to go there, bringing up the humiliation of my life. “I won’t.”
I quickly changed the subject. “So, what can I do to help? Want me to set the table?”
As I moved through the motions of a task I’d performed thousands of times in this house, I pushed Micah firmly to my back burner. He could sit there, simmering. I wouldn’t completely throw away the thought of him. But first I needed to focus on what I needed to do: find a place to live and start my next HomeCare assignment.
*
Micah
While J.D. was full of what the fuck and how could you be so stupid, Jonah didn’t say a word. He merely listened and looked at me and judged with those dark, serious eyes I could hardly remember ever containing so much as a twinkle. Maybe he’d had a sense of humor once a very long time ago, but he’d lost it early and never found it again.
I sat with my older and younger brothers in the living room of my apartment. Actually, Jonah and I sat. J.D. paced and shook his head and cursed.
After I finished explaining the details of how I’d come to owe a crime boss nearly 80K, Jonah looked down at his hands resting lightly on his legs and flexed his fingers. I geared up for him to come over and throw a punch at me. I deserved it. But he didn’t move.
The silence was worse than him tearing me a new one would’ve been. I folded my arms, hunkered down on the couch, and waited. I was fourteen again. It was the day after I’d boosted a car and nearly got caught. I’d shouted at Jonah that he wasn’t the boss of me, but inside I cringed as I waited for his judgment. At seventeen he was more of a father figure than my dad had ever been.
“You know how easy we could be split up?” he’d finally said and snapped his fingers. “Just like that and we’re all in foster care or worse. If you’d been arrested, you’d be in juvie now, and there’s not a damn thing I could do about it. I
ain’t your legal guardian.”
He’d leveled a stare at me until I shriveled up and died inside.
“We take what we need to when we need to. No more than that. We keep a low profile and raise our crops. That’s how we survive,” he said.
“Got it,” I mumbled.
But it had been a helluva good time while the ride lasted, racing over country roads in the dark, lights off, cops on our tail—Terry Crate and me—until we’d finally abandoned the car and run through the woods.
Jonah would never have known about it if dumbass Terry hadn’t swung by the next day and blurted it out right in front of him. Terry never could get the fact that my older brother wasn’t like all of his. Jonah wouldn’t laugh it off as a fun, wild time. Jonah could grow and sell pot while still marching the moral high road. He’d spent too many years under our religious Mama’s rules to completely discard them all.
Here we were again, me at twenty-five and Jonah at twenty-eight, and right back into our old roles. I fucked up. He cleaned up.
“How much can you raise?” he asked at last.
“Given time, all of it. I can sell the bar, pay it off, and still make a profit—I think. But by Abakumov’s deadline, only about ten thousand.”
Jonah steepled his fingers and touched them to his mouth. He stared at my carpet, and all I could think was how dirty it looked. “Will he be satisfied with fifty? I can give you a loan.”
“I—I honestly don’t know.” A tiny flicker of hope shimmered in my chest. “He should be happy with that for a start. Since it wasn’t me who double-crossed him, maybe he’ll cut me some slack. If I give him a good chunk up front for good faith, maybe he’ll put me on a payment schedule. I’m sure there’ll be steep interest, and in the long run, I might never be out from under this debt. Once guys like him get their hooks in—”
Jonah lifted a hand to shush me. “I know how it works. Can you arrange a sit-down with him?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never talked to him directly.” I cleared my throat. “Another option is for me to just take off. I been thinking about it.”
