The After House

by Michael Phillip Cash

  Turned out Molly loved yoga. She was slow moving, her thighs weak. She couldn’t stop talking, but she enjoyed the class. Since it was just the two of them, Remy allowed her to chatter away as she helped her with beginner’s poses. Molly knew everybody in town. She had lived here her entire life, never thinking she’d marry Sal Valenti, the owner of a little antique store on the corner.

  “When we met, it was like magic,” Molly said, her face animated with happiness. “I had given up, you know. Thought I’d never meet the right guy.”

  “But you’ve dated others.”

  “Yeah,” Molly agreed. “I brought. . .well, I kind of had this thing for my partner.”

  “Paul Russo?” Remy asked.

  “Awkward,” she said in a high, singsong voice. “When he lost his wife, I figured that maybe he’d finally see me.”

  “Did anything happen?”

  Molly concentrated on moving into the pigeon pose. Remy got up to readjust her foot. Molly groaned.

  “Oh, did I hurt you?” Remy asked.

  “No, but I think I may have to spend the rest of the night here. I don’t know how I’m going to get up.”

  Remy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

  “I’m glad I met you. I think sometimes we meet people who become important in our lives, you know, like impact them. I met Paul and thought he was my soul mate. Clearly he wasn’t, because he led me to Sal. The office had a professional relationship with him when we hired him to stage homes. It was also because of Paul that I met Georgia. That sure as hell changed my life.”

  Remy wanted to ask her who Georgia was, but the next class started filing in the door, and the discussion had to be left unfinished.

  Molly struggled to her feet, then called out, “By the way, my friend Georgia would love to examine the house you’re renting. Can she come by one day?”

  Remy was only half-listening, but she nodded. She had to collect the fees for the next group and add two more students to the roster. “Sure,” she said absently. “Call me, and we’ll arrange it.”

  Her cell trilled from her desk, and Remy waved goodbye as she answered it. Her mother’s voice filled her ear.

  “So?”

  “Hi, Mom.” Remy decided not to share the fire in her studio with her parents. No reason to worry them unnecessarily.

  “Did you meet him?”

  “Who?” Remy asked.

  “Yes. Did you have fun?”

  “Mom,” Remy hissed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Hugh. He told me he was going to visit you today. Did you meet him? Isn’t he cute? Did you do anything?”

  Remy rolled her eyes, pausing for a minute, the happiness in her mother’s voice stopping the negative comment from springing from her lips. “Yes,” she said simply. “He’s very nice.”

  “I knew you would like him! Brian,” she called out. “Remy liked Hugh.”

  Remy heard her father yell, “Who?”

  “Mom, stop. Please stop.”

  “He’s mayor, you know.”

  “Yes, he told me. Oh, people are filing in, Mom. I have another class.”

  “All right, honey. I’m just so happy you finally met. I think. . .I think. . .” Judith paused.

  Time stilled, Remy’s breath caught in her throat. Her mother’s eagerness infected her spirit, filling it with a buoyancy she hadn’t felt since Olivia was born. “Mom?”

  “I know there’s something special there. Never doubt my intuition, Remy.”

  “That’s a bit premature. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I don’t know about that, dear. Once you know, you know.”

  Remy hung up wondering if her mother knew something she didn’t.

  It was dark by the time Remy finished her last class. She arranged Wednesday to be her late night at the studio, as Olivia spent Wednesdays and alternate weekends with Scott and Prunella. She had a text from Scott earlier and stared at the message miserably. He had a family thing tomorrow night and wanted Olivia to spend Thursday with them as well. She only had to reply if there was a problem. Remy shrugged unhappily. She’d never make things difficult for her daughter and her father. It wasn’t in her DNA. She locked the door, scooting to her car, climbing over a small drift of snow. It was filthy outside, the wet snow making for treacherous driving conditions. She had ended class a half hour ago, did her accounting, and cleaned up the studio. One of the women offered to wait, but she insisted they all leave. It was Cold Spring Harbor, after all, she told them. Safest place on earth—until she moved into town, apparently.

  It was freezing, the temperature dipping to subzero lows. The town was deserted, and for a minute, Remy shivered from more than the cold breeze coming off the bay. She whipped her head around, feeling as though she was being watched. The wind snatched her breath, and she gasped from the chill. The car was running, the snow a wet pile of slush sliding from the warmed chassis. She had a remote starter, a gift from her parents, so she could start her car from the confines of her home or studio and sit on heated seats. The lights flashed, the door alarm chirped, and she slid into the cozy vehicle.

  Remy rubbed her hands together, then put the car into drive to take the short trip home. It was barely two blocks. She couldn’t wait for summer, when she would walk home. After she switched on the radio, the music played absently, while she went over her time with Hugh. Pithy remarks came to her, things she could have said to make herself more interesting. But she wasn’t interesting, not like him. Somehow the time had passed, and it looked like her lack of small talk didn’t affect Hugh. He still seemed eager to see her again. Perhaps she worried too much. Maybe none of it mattered. “When you know, you just know,” she thought again, her mother’s words echoing in her head.

  She pulled onto Main and came to the one light that bisected the town. Christmas lights winked in pretty patterns, outlining the faces of the buildings. She watched the wind send spirals of snow eddying on the blacktop. The car bucked as a gust pushed it, whistling through the crack of the window. It sounded like a deep moan. Remy rested her foot lightly on the brake, wanting to take off as soon as the light changed. When green bathed her face, she took her foot off the brake, ready to accelerate.

  Dual headlights filled her rearview mirror. She urged her car forward. The car behind her was sitting practically on top of her rear bumper. “Asshole,” she thought. She raised her face and squinted. The bright lights were on. She pressed her pedal, speeding up, feeling a little trapped. The car behind her was traveling a bit too fast. She wanted to get out of its way.

  The headlights came up so suddenly. They became large circles in her rear window. Remy bit back a curse, knowing she was going to be hit. Gripping the wheel, her knuckles white under her gloves, she punched the gas and floored the car, feeling the Ford Focus surge forward. She was so intent on getting away, she missed her turn and found herself heading directly toward Route 25A. She made a hard right and noticed the car was a beige sedan. Then she passed Cold Spring Laboratories and the fish hatchery. The other car had barreled straight past her, its horn screaming. It barely missed the tail end of her car.

  She went down a quarter mile, slowing to a crawl. Remy made a U-turn into a side street and stopped to catch her breath. Her heart fluttered against the walls of her chest. She reached down, pulling back her purse, which had fallen when she made the quick turn. She searched inside the voluminous bag, and her hand closed around her phone. She placed it in the console between the two seats.

  Pulling back onto 25A, she drove cautiously toward Main. She made the left, her eyes opening wide when she saw the headlights coming up again at her fast. The car clipped her hard, throwing her compact forward. The steering wheel slid through her fingers, and her turn became sloppy as she tried to avoid smashing against a stone divider. Remy cursed. She placed both her hands on one side of the steering wheel, making the car swerve sharply. It jerked clumsily, and her head whipped as she spun on black ice.

  Using her teet
h, she frantically tugged off her gloves, one by one. She fought to steady the wheel, knowing the car was heading for the stone wall that bordered the incline to the inlet.

  “Hard port!” She heard a man say from the backseat, of all places. Remy gasped, her startled eyes looked in the rearview mirror. Seeing a bearded man, she screamed, losing total control of the wheel. The other car came up fast and slammed into her right side, sending her into an uncontrolled spin. Her back pressed into the seat as the impact sent her head connecting with the driver’s window.

  Remy thought she saw a white hand reaching for her, and then she didn’t see anything at all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “She’s coming round.” Remy heard a relieved voice as if from a tunnel. She was flat on her back on a stretcher, a kaleidoscope of lights flashing around her. The tinny echo of a police radio squawked in the background. Remy attempted to sit up but was pushed back by a strong hand. She raised a shaky hand to her head and touched a bulky bandage.

  “How many fingers do you see?”

  “Fingers?” She squinted.

  “Jeez. Get her to the hospital already,” an impatient voice said. “I’ll call her folks.”

  Remy recognized Hugh’s voice. “No!” she shouted. “Are you a paramedic too?” she asked in a reedy voice. Was that weak thing her? She cleared her throat.

  Hugh took her hand within his warm grasp. “No, they called me because I’m notified of any accidents in the area. You don’t want your parents to come?”

  “Absolutely not. Wait,” she said in a panic as she felt herself lifted. “Where are we going?”

  “Hospital,” the paramedic offered. “You’ve got quite the bump there.”

  “I’m fine. I want to go home. Is my car OK?”

  “Well, as long as you have collision, your car is OK.”

  “Crap.” Remy sighed, easing back down, her lips rimmed with white. She felt the stretcher being lifted, and her stomach heaved.

  “Do you need a bag?” the paramedic asked professionally.

  Remy moaned in response, her stomach dancing around her throat. She was handed a paper bag not unlike what she saw on an airplane.

  “You’ll feel better in the morning,” Hugh said as he hopped into the ambulance.

  “You coming, Mayor?”

  “Yes,” he replied. The doors slammed shut Remy closed her eyes, fighting the nausea that threatened as the vehicle took off. She was mortified. Her skin must have gone white, because she felt a familiar hand stroke her sweaty forehead. Swallowing thickly, she peered under her lashes, watching Hugh look at her. His concerned gray eyes comforted her. She felt her fingers being squeezed reassuringly.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he whispered.

  “Oh, what the hell,” Remy thought. If he doesn’t mind my tumbleweed hair this afternoon, what’s a black eye or two between friends?”

  * * *

  It was a minor bruise, but they insisted on keeping her for observation. She wouldn’t let Hugh call her family, didn’t want their sleep interrupted. He offered to pick her up in the morning to drive her home.

  Remy must have dozed, because when she opened her eyes, the room swam into focus. She lifted her head, groaning with the heaviness of it. Her face hurt. The skin around her eye sockets was tender. “I must look like a raccoon,” Remy thought. Weak light filtered in through the venetian blinds, and the world looked back at her in shades of violet.

  A soft snore startled her, and she peered through the gloom and was able to make out the hunched-over figure of a man seated just beyond the nylon curtain. Reaching up, she struggled with the fabric. She winced when the rings holding it squealed loudly. She heard a muffled snort, and a large hand appeared to help her pull back the material. A bleary-eyed Hugh smiled back at her.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “You were a little out of it last night.”

  “What?” she demanded.

  Hugh shrugged sheepishly. “You were crying. Sue me. I can’t deal with a weeping female.”

  “Was it bad?”

  “Worse than when the Mets lost the series.” He dragged his chair closer to the bed. “How do you feel today?”

  Remy touched her head, which was bandaged thickly. “Hurts a bit, but I’ll live.”

  Hugh brightened. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Does it look bad?” she asked. “I must look like a mess.”

  Ever resourceful, Hugh pulled sunglasses from his jacket pocket.

  “Do you ever do anything wrong?” Remy asked sourly as she took the glasses and tried them on.

  “Nope,” he said honestly.

  “I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to stay,” Remy said miserably.

  “Why? You asked, and—”

  “I asked?” Remy’s voice rose.

  “More like demanded.”

  A nurse briskly entered the room, snapping open the blinds, turning jaundiced eyes on Hugh. “You were supposed to leave hours ago, Your Honor.”

  “I had a meeting about the upcoming lane change,” Hugh lied.

  “Yeah, sure,” the nurse said with raised eyebrows. She looked at her wristwatch. “When, at four in the morning?”

  “I was early.” He gave her a wide smile that stopped all female breathing in the room. “No wonder you got yourself elected,” Remy thought.

  Hugh stood and stretched his arms wide. “When is she being released?”

  “As soon as the doctor signs. Should be in another hour or so.”

  Remy held the green hospital gown away from her chest with a thumb and forefinger. Hugh shook his head. “They changed you, I waited outside. Get dressed. I’ll take you for breakfast.”

  He walked out, leaving Remy’s folded clothes at the foot of the bed. “Call me if you’re dizzy,” he said as he left the room.

  The ward was just waking up. The nurse stayed to take out Remy’s IV. She answered Remy’s questions about the hospital. It was a small facility, with a few hundred beds. Mayor Matthews had been good to them. There was talk about closing it down, but he got that squashed right after he was elected. He knew every member of the staff personally just from the holiday fete earlier this year. They raised close to sixty thousand dollars, enough to put in a more modern waiting room, one with a separate play area for children. It was clear that Hugh was loved in the small town.

  When Remy came out, Hugh took a small plastic bag from her, and they left, walking side by side to his truck. He asked if she wanted to pick up something to eat or sit in the diner. They chose to eat at her place, so he stopped at a deli and picked up ham and eggs on rolls. With a strange feeling of domesticity, they sat at her kitchen table in the early-morning light.

  “What time does Olivia get home?” he asked as he started wrapping up the wax paper from the sandwiches. “Do you have time to lie down? I’ll wait for her.”

  Remy looked at him, her insides melting just a bit. He was so kind. “You barely know me. She doesn’t get home until tomorrow anyway.”

  Hugh blushed. “I can’t explain it. I mean, I only went to your studio because your mom was so insistent. It feels like I’ve known you forever.”

  Remy nodded in agreement. It did. They seemed to fit together as if they belonged together. “Once you know,” Remy thought dreamily.

  * * *

  Up in the rafters, Marum sighed. Sten looked at her, rolling his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be engaged with their feelings.”

  Marum floated in ecstasy, her hands clasped, her face alight with pleasure. “It’s so romantic. Do you think Remy and Huge are aware that they’re kindred spirits?”

  Sten stood and brushed off his immaculate iridescent pants, his words designed to bring Marum crashing down to reality.

  “Nobody ever knows. I mean, they suspect. They use the term ‘soul mates’ to death. What do they really know, a feeling of familiarity? They grasp at anything to find that connect, the recognition that brings happiness, then spend the
rest of their lives trying to change the other person. Why can’t they ever be happy?”

  “Were you always so cynical?”

  “I’m not a cynic, Marum. I state the obvious.”

  Marum approached Sten. “You don’t think the human heart can recognize its other half?”

  “Sure, the astute souls do recognize a kindred, but they won’t realize fully until they complete their journey here.”

  “It’s all so stupid,” Marum said. “Why can’t everything be revealed? The tests, the punishments? It seems cruel.”

  Sten gave her a warning glance. “What’s the point of life then, Marum? We chose our course, then come here to live it with the souls we want to share it with.”

  “So explain Scott, the creep.”

  “Stop being judgmental. It’s not our job. He is a mere player in the grand scheme. You know that, Marum. We are just here—”

  “Yes?” Marum’s blue eyes narrowed.

  “Consider yourself a traffic cop.”

  “A traffic cop? Really, Sten. That sounds so pedestrian.”

  “Marum, they elected you because of your insights. You’re here to give a nudge in the right direction. Provide opportunities, insights. You can’t make them do what they choose not to. I don’t care how many signals you throw in their path, or the many whispers in their dreams, some of them don’t listen.”

  “Because they don’t have confidence!” Marum answered hotly.

  “You’re walking a fine line, sentinel,” Sten said sternly. “Confidence is learned. Love is earned. Page nine, paragraph thirty-four. It’s in the book. Remy Galway has to make mistakes. They all do. Some change from them, others fail.”

  Marum sighed loudly again, her face dimming.

  “Marum,” Stern warned. “Sometimes they are just out of sync. They can’t all get what they want. Then nobody would come back.”

  “What about what they need?”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a whine, Marum.” He pointed a finger at her. “You know the job. Not everybody gets to win.”

  “Speaking of out of sync, look who’s here.” Marum gestured to Eli, who was walking around the kitchen table observing the two. “Should we pull him out?”