October Snow

by Jenna Brooks

  “Dave can bring her up next week.”

  Max nodded. “Do you have a lot to pack?”

  Jo shook her head.

  “Any last minute errands?”

  “The bank. Pay the landlord through the summer. And the Post Office–we need to put a hold on our mail.”

  “Let’s get the forms for that right now. Sign yours, and I’ll fill out the rest and then take them to the main facility while you go to the bank.”

  “Sounds good.” She pulled over to the curb. “I just…I need a minute, Max.” She looked over at her, eyes wide with something that Max couldn’t decipher.

  “Hey, that’s okay.” Jo’s chin was trembling. Max thought she might cry, then realized that she had never seen Jo get that upset, not to the point where she would cry. Never that. “Take your time.” She had an impulse to hug her, but she knew not to. She took her hand instead.

  It took a minute, then Jo squeezed twice. “I’m okay.” Her smile was wobbly, but she seemed to shake it off, whatever it was that she had been thinking and feeling. “I’m just so tired already,” she said apologetically.

  “That’s just what I was thinking, a minute ago.”

  “It’s been a hard week.”

  A hard life, Max thought. “I want to go feed the seagulls.”

  Jo was blinking rapidly as she pulled back into the traffic. “Me too.”

  Max’s text came as Jo zipped her overnight bag.

  All set

  She looked around her apartment.

  15 mins a couple more things to do

  She opened the side drawer of her vanity, pulling out her favorite picture, the one of herself with the boys.

  It wasn’t her favorite, not anymore. It mocked her.

  She wondered if she had ever really believed that she would escape Keith. It made no difference, not now: she knew the truth of that. Of her life. Or the facts of her life, anyway. It occurred to her that Maxine would love to have that philosophical discussion, knowing the facts versus living the truth, and she smiled wistfully.

  She held the picture for a few long moments, thinking about the days that her sons were born. She was still able to feel joy when Johnny arrived; but by the time Matt had come along, she was already fading into despair. She had known, even then, that Matt would be her last baby. The brief past that had already marred her, and the future that she knew was coming, demanded that no more lives be sacrificed to Keith.

  With her eyes closed, she could see two-year-old Matt, running through a pumpkin patch, arms wide open. Shouting with joy. Johnny, at three years old, pulling a bunch of dandelions from behind his back, presenting them to her with a flourish: “Fo’ yooo, Mom.”

  She remembered something she had read once, years before she had met Keith–a quote that had stayed with her, almost like a premonition: “There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.” Dante Alighieri? That sounded right to her.

  Still holding the picture, she went toward her overnight bag; then she turned abruptly, placing it back on the night table. She paused, not yet ready to turn away, and she picked it up once more, holding it to her heart.

  “It’s the holding on that hurts,” she whispered. “Love you guys.” She placed the picture gently on the table.

  She could hear Max coming down the hallway as she set a bag outside her door. “Daisy, c’mon,” she said, slapping her thigh.

  Daisy appeared beside her. She picked up her last piece of luggage, and shut the door without looking back.

  October Snow

  Part Two

  chapter 10

  DAVE STOOD IN the doorway to the bedroom, holding a cup of coffee, watching Sam as she slept.

  He had hope now, for the first time in years: she had shared her secret, at dinner two nights before. What an idiot Car-boy is, he thought. Loser. He smiled to himself. Then again, I wasn’t much better.

  She and Jack had never married. He sipped the coffee, thinking about it, resisting the impulse to go to her. Now that he knew, he allowed the hope that he had buried long ago to resurface. He relished the knowledge that Jack had blown it with her; at the same time, it also brought him the painful realization of the ways in which he, himself, had let them all down. He knew he had been too laid-back, too tolerant, and far too dismissive of the impact that Liz could have on her daughter.

  He thought it odd that hadn’t been shocked, not really, to learn that she wasn’t Jack’s wife; but as he watched her, reflecting again on the fact that he had only a narrow opening into something permanent with her, he wasn’t about to dwell on it anyway. There was, finally, an opportunity here, and he was moving in on it. Tyler needed her. So did Dave. The years without her had been just too hard–especially with losing her to someone like Jack Seever.

  Dave wasn’t aware of the specifics of how Jack treated her, but he had his suspicions. He knew that Sam wasn’t happy, and that she hadn’t been happy since Jack slithered into their lives. Beyond that, Dave didn’t like allowing his son to live in Jack’s house, and he kept Tyler with him whenever possible. More and more often in recent months, Sam had sent the boy to Boston to stay with him, which concerned him all the more; the fact that Tyler didn’t seem to want to talk about Jack, or about his life in New Hampshire, was what worried him the most.

  There was simply something wrong with the guy, Dave could feel it–but four years ago, when Jack first started pursuing Sam, whatever that “something” was had never quite surfaced.

  Distracted with setting up his practice, Dave missed the warning signs that Sam was slipping away. He was thirty-five at the time, late to the career game after six years in the Air Force, and then a few years of drifting from job to job. He refused to work for one of the large law firms in Boston, wanting control over his own choices of whom he would represent and the cases he would take; as a result, the first two years after he passed the Bar were pretty lean, even more so than the seven years of college and law school had been.

  He met Sam during his first year at Boston College. She was tending bar at a pub he and his roommate frequented, and they became fast friends. He couldn’t bring himself to ask her out: he was, by nature, a shy man, completely unaware of the attention he drew from women. He thought Sam was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her long, dark hair and pale blue eyes. She was tiny, and very fragile-looking, but Dave had seen her go toe-to-toe with some rough characters in the bar, and he knew that she was no pushover.

  After the second time he witnessed her fending off unwanted male attention, he started taking his coursework in to the pub whenever possible, just to keep an eye on her–a fact not lost on his roommate, Will, who eventually bet Dave the ten dollars that neither of them had that Dave didn’t have the guts to ask her out.

  He smiled, remembering how she said “yes” before he had finished asking.

  He moved in with her three weeks later, and she worked–constantly–to help him through college, and then law school in New Hampshire. She had paid most of the living expenses for them; but more than that, she kept him going. Until Samantha, he had never thought himself designed for much more than a modest, middling sort of a life, with a wife and a few kids, maybe a little house someplace if he was lucky.

  Now, he had a partner and four associates in a small, vital practice that was well-known and highly respected in Boston’s legal community. Delaney-Remmond was the firm you didn’t want to come up against, if your plan was to play it fast and loose with the truth and the law. Samantha had been the reassuring voice in his ear, the comforter during the times when it all went wrong, the one who saw in him what he couldn’t find in himself.

  He seemed to have it all. He was young, handsome, and successful. He had a townhome in the North End, drove a vintage sports car, and made lots of money. And every bit of it echoed with emptiness in the part of his soul that had always loved her, and always would. He never got the chance to repay her for helping him to create his life.

  No
t until now, and he intended to get it right this time.

  She was starting to stir, and he sat on the bed beside her. “Good morning.”

  Sam stretched, her eyes still closed as she smiled dreamily. “What time is it?” she murmured.

  “After nine.” He passed the cup of coffee back and forth under her nose, enticing her to wake up.

  Her eyes opened, and she pushed the cup aside, a sudden wave of nausea gripping her. She had enjoyed several days in a row with almost no morning sickness, but it was there in full force that morning. “Excuse me…” She pushed the covers away as he got up, and she tried to walk with minimal urgency to the master suite’s bathroom. She turned on the water at the sink full flow, hoping to cover any noise she might make.

  Dave sat on the bench at the foot of the bed. As he downed some of the coffee he had intended for Sam, he noticed something protruding from under her pillow. He pulled it out, smiling as he recognized it, slipping it into his pocket. It was exactly what he needed.

  She came back into the bedroom a few minutes later, and he moved over, patting the bench. He thought she looked pale. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Sorry. Not sure what happened there.”

  She met his eyes, and smiled reassuringly as he handed her the coffee. “Thanks.”

  “I thought we’d get Mrs. Messina to watch Tyler tonight, and go out to an obscenely expensive dinner.”

  She sat beside him, thinking it was time to let him know, trying to decide the best way to tell him - but she knew that there was no best way, not even a good one. She knew that there was no possibility that he would accept another man’s baby. “It’s been wonderful, this past week. It’s been…Being with you again, and the three of us together, I…” Her voice broke. She had known, for the entire week, that it had to end. Their brief reprieve from reality was more a farewell than a rekindling of what they once had.

  It had been a lovely, accommodating gesture, that Dave had taken the guest room and given her the master suite. He had been affectionate, but nothing more; for that, Sam was grateful. At the same time, especially since telling him that she wasn’t really married to Jack, she was also disappointed. She was certain she had covered up the fact of her pregnancy, so that couldn’t be the reason he was holding back. She was beginning to wonder if Dave had met someone else.

  “I’ve loved it,” he said. “It’s felt right. And being at the office only part-time for a week…I’m definitely going to delegate more often.” He thought about the next day, Mother’s Day, and that she’d be leaving on Monday. He put his hand under her chin, and turned her head to look at him. “You haven’t answered about dinner tonight.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “Let’s go buy you something fabulous to wear.”

  “Oh my gosh, Dave, haven’t you bought me enough?” Her men had taken her shopping three times already, with Dave buying her anything she admired, until it got to the point where she had stopped commenting on the things she saw before he went broke. She fingered the sapphire pendant she wore around her neck, the necklace Tyler had insisted upon for her Mother’s Day gift. The perfect, oval gem was surrounded by tiny diamonds, which Tyler said sparkled like she did. “Hey, buddy,” Dave quipped, “I need to remember that one.”

  Dave was grinning. “I love getting nice things for you.” He stood, pulling her to her feet. “Get ready. I’m going to run down to the office and grab some documents, be back in an hour. We’ll go to breakfast first.” She shook her head in protest, and he kissed her on the forehead, pulling her in to hold her. “Mother’s Day week, remember?”

  She laid her head against his chest, remembering the day she told Dave that she was pregnant with Tyler. The joy on his face was radiant, as if the glow of it went all the way through him and lit up her life. In the years that followed, they lived together as a family. Dave asked her every few months to marry him–but she had been terrified of marriage. To anyone. Even Dave, as strong and as gentle as he was, couldn’t convince her.

  Then Jack came along. Secretly, she had always thought it wasn’t exactly moonlight and roses: she bought her car from him, and he had started chasing her right away. Liz, for her own reasons, had preferred Jack. She blamed Dave for making her daughter live in sin, and support him while he was in school, and for then having Tyler when they weren’t married.

  Jack had said all the right things, and he and Liz had managed to wage a convincing campaign against Dave, making Sam think he was in it only for himself.

  Their breakup had been exquisitely painful; yet, Dave had remained steady in Sam’s life, always there when she needed him. Always her best friend. He gave her more for Tyler than he had to every month; many times, he would send her quite a bit extra, and tell her to go do something fun with their child, or just for herself.

  Jack took all of the money, though. Sam couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone that, not until that day in Max’s apartment when she admitted that she had nothing.

  Being with Dave for the week, it felt like she had it all…Once upon a time, she thought, but not now. And she hated herself for allowing Jack and her mother to come between them.

  Now, with her head on Dave’s chest and his arms around her, finally back where she belonged, she fought the need to sob with the relief of it. Here it is, she thought. This is what I lived for all these years, it’s what I wanted, and now it will never be.

  “Sammy?”

  She looked up at him.

  He seemed to shift then, to change his mind about something. “Let’s go have a wonderful day today. Go get ready. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  She nodded, wishing she had never hoped for anything, stifling the sudden wave of despair that gripped her. She thought about Bow Lake, where her friends waited–and she suddenly wanted, very badly, to get there.

  The last place Jack wanted to be was back at work, but Andrew had covered for him for days and needed the weekend off. His wife was pregnant with their first child, so they wanted to celebrate an anticipatory Mother’s Day.

  Jack felt sorry for Andrew. He was glad that at least he didn’t have to deal with a pregnant wife, especially since having Sam’s whiny little kid around was bad enough. Jack had never wanted children, and he was relatively certain that he never would. They were no more than emotional and financial drains–selfish, arrogant creatures that sapped the fun out of living.

  Every few minutes, Jack checked his phone to see if Liz had returned one of his many calls over the last several days. As he checked it again, he decided that his patience had come to an end.

  “Paula,” he called across the showroom to his assistant manager, “keep an eye on things.”

  She nodded, looking around the empty showroom. “Won’t be too hard.”

  It was insufferably slow for a Saturday. Another thing to worry about, Jack thought. A rotten economy, his failing dealership, and a bunch of yahoos in Washington screwing things up even more. He sometimes played with the idea of running for office; after all, he had the looks, the ideas, the experience, and certainly the brains–and he was the personification of the condition of men these days, he was quite certain of that. He couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t win easily.

  He carefully shut the door to his office, turned the lock, and then kicked his desk chair across the expansive room. It bounced off the filing cabinet, coming to a spinning rest on its side. Picking up the business phone, he punched in the first five digits of Liz’s number, then pressed the disconnect.

  Think, damn it.

  The lawyer he saw on Thursday, the one Andrew had hooked him up with, had warned him against any fits of temper. “You don’t need to be making any more enemies right now. If nothing else, you may find Mrs. Bentley to be useful at some point. So don’t run her off. And keep a low profile–you’re still facing charges for head-butting that police officer.” With that, Jack decided to stay quiet about the pictures Jo had of him stalking the apartment house. He knew he’d find a way to de
al with her blackmailing him, but that would have to come later.

  Barb had declined to follow through with charges against him, provided he never again came near the restaurant; the Hillsboro County D.A. decided not to pursue him for resisting arrest. They were holding on to the battery on the cop, though. Steven Patch, his lawyer, thought he may be able to make a few phone calls to sympathetic friends, and get him off with probation–but only if he was absolutely perfect, at least for now.

  Jack grabbed his suit jacket from the hook by the door. He desperately needed to keep Liz on his side, and then find a way to lose the whole situation, and dispose of all of the problems that hung over his head because of Sam.

  Then, he would find her. She had to surface eventually, without her friends around to shield her.

  He swung through the showroom, shouting, “Paula, I’m out for the day.”

  Liz and Rhonda were having coffee on Liz’s patio when Jack appeared, walking casually around the corner to the back of the house, hands in his pockets. Both women gasped when they saw him; Liz stood, immediately defensive.

  “Whoa! Hey, I’m sorry, ladies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stopped, holding his hands palms-out, as if to fend them off. “I haven’t heard from you, Liz. I was worried.”

  She glanced at Rhonda, who was staring at him anxiously. “What do you want, Jack?”

  He took on a wounded, confused expression. “Well, like I said, I haven’t heard from you. I just wanted to check, make sure you’re okay. I know Samantha’s been pretty upset with you.” He didn’t know that, not for sure, but it was a safe guess–and he needed to lay some groundwork.

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” She hoped she seemed aggressive.

  “Call the police, Liz.” Rhonda watched him carefully, wide-eyed, expecting that he would suddenly leap at them.

  He took a step back, still feigning confusion. “The police? Liz, what’s going on?”

  “I know what you did, Jack. I know you’re the one who painted those filthy words all over my house last week.”