Made in Heaven

by McGoldrick, May

  So he let it drop without pushing her. Considering all she had to worry about, Evan certainly didn’t have the heart to tell her about the little disagreement between Meg and him.

  Before leaving the hospital, he and Jada sat down for a long chat with the staff social worker. And it was amazing how much better she looked and clearly felt after the woman told them that no decisions regarding the baby’s future would be made in haste. The top priority for all involved was to get the child the medical attention he needed. There would be plenty of time to discuss anything else that needed to be done when Jada’s father returned.

  Back at the house, Evan made up his mind to stop at Meg’s room. Dammit, he cursed climbing the stairs, enough was enough! She’d had all morning to straighten out in her head any confusion she had over what their relationship was all about. He sure as hell couldn’t make any sense out of her talk of Robert.

  Her door was ajar when he arrived at the top of the steps. Knocking softly and calling her name, he was shocked to find out that the room was empty and the cleaning woman was already at work.

  “So what the hell happened?”

  Evan whipped around at the sound of Phil’s voice. His friend was standing with one foot on the top step.

  “Where is she?” Evan snapped.

  “Looks to me like she’s gone!”

  “Don’t screw around, Phil.”

  “I don’t know where she went. I just got back from the marina, and Nan told me Meg had checked out.”

  Evan fought against the urge to slam the door shut. To pound his fist into the wall.

  “Dammit!” he swore with a cold fierceness violent enough to make his friend move back a step. She ran. Just like that, she got scared and ran.

  “You told her the truth, didn’t you?”

  He ignored Phil’s words and stormed up the stairs.

  “You did...didn’t you, Evan? She didn’t find it out by herself, did she?”

  Arriving at his own door, he kicked the thing open and charged through. “What difference does it make?” he muttered. “She didn’t like what she saw. So she just tucked her tail between her legs and took off for parts unknown.”

  He stalked into his kitchen and opened the fridge for a beer. The bottles of wine, the ones that they’d never gotten to last night, greeted him first. He slammed the door shut, ignoring the rattling and the sounds of breaking glass, and turned back to the counter to make coffee instead. The diamond necklace he’d bought her lay partially hidden beneath Death on a Reef. With a growl, he picked up the book and flung it across the room.

  Dammit, he couldn’t breath! Yanking at the collar of his shirt, he marched out of the kitchen and headed for the balcony. Her dress lay neatly arranged across the back of a chair. Picking up both chair and the dress, he threw them both out of his path.

  “Why don’t you go after her?”

  “Why the hell should I?” He slammed the french door open and stared at the blanket lying on the plank decking of the balcony. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blot out the image of the two of them making love.

  “Well, for one thing, it’ll save me on the furniture replacement costs.”

  He swung around toward Phil, who was leaning with a shoulder against the doorjamb.

  “She dumped me! Plain and simple! She dumped me. You and I both should understand that pretty well. She just gave me a taste of my own medicine.”

  Phil continued to stand silently.

  “But you know, the thing that really ticks me off about the whole thing is that she didn’t have the guts to tell me the truth. She couldn’t just stand there and say, ‘Hey, we had pretty good sex, and I got what I came on this vacation for.’ No, she had to make up this bizarre story about her...about her...” Frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair. “Ah, Christ! I don’t know why the hell I’m even worrying about it. The hell with her. She can just disappear from the face of the earth as far as I’m concerned. They’re a dime a dozen, women like her.”

  He stomped to his computer and turned on the damn machine. Even the buzzers and beeps sounded judgmental.

  “I’m gonna work, so you can just drag your ass out of here.”

  Plunking himself down in front of the flashing screen, Evan felt the anger roiling in his veins. His head was pounding, but that pain was nothing to the knife twisting in his gut.

  He never should have let down his guard! He never should have gotten attached. Damn her for making him feel this miserable!

  Damn her to hell!

  ******

  Order might be heaven’s first rule, but it didn’t apply to Meg’s bedroom at the moment.

  Clothes, torn from their hangers, lay in a huge pile where they’d been thrown in the middle of the floor. Books were mounded to one side. Photo albums and framed photographs sat beside the books. On the queen size bed two suitcases lay open, but neither of them held much.

  Meg stood in the nearly empty closet, working quickly and almost methodically. There was a kind of cool detachment in the way she yanked a shirt from its hanger, and as she moved toward the pile, she was no more aware of the garment in her hand than she was of the state of the Tasmanian economy. There was an empty look in Meg’s face as she added the shirt to the others, a look that spoke very clearly of a heart that had been all too recently broken.

  Finishing up with the closet, Meg moved on the large chest of drawers beneath the antique, oak mirror. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out the neatly folded polo shirts that had once belonged to Robert.

  Everything was as he’d left it. The shirts, the socks, the underwear, the handkerchiefs. Nothing had been moved. Nothing disturbed. Not for five years.

  She must have been out of her mind, she thought with disgust, to hold on to Robert’s things so many years after his death. When a chapter of a book is done, you turn the page and it’s over. When you finish a book, you write, ‘The End” and that’s it!

  That was all part of it. That was where she’d gone wrong from the start. If she had done any of this--if she’d been brave enough to turn the page in her life--then perhaps she wouldn’t be hurting so much right now. Then perhaps she wouldn’t be mourning--not one but two--men whom she loved and had now lost.

  The sound of the door buzzer roused Meg from her reverie. Wiping the remnants of tears from beneath her eyes, she moved to open the door. Just as she’d hoped, Rebekah stood amid a pile of empty cardboard crates in the hallway.

  “Are you getting evicted already?”

  Meg held the door open as her friend pushed the boxes into the apartment. She had called Rebekah as soon as she’d gotten in from the train station.

  “No, I’m not getting evicted. But I did give notice on my lease.” Meg closed the door and started heading back for the bedroom, but Rebekah’s hand on her arm stopped her short.

  “Meg! What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Really, you look like shit.”

  “Well, I can’t help that.”

  “Meg...”

  “Look, I’m just doing what I should have done five years ago. I’m sorting through and getting rid of Robert’s things. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

  Rebekah gave a suspicious nod and followed Meg to the bedroom. But at the sight of the huge mess, her shocked gasp made Meg’s ears burn with embarrassment.

  Robert had been a creature of habit, and so had Meg. Orderliness and neatness had been a part of their day to day life. For all the years the two women had known each other, Meg knew Rebekah had never seen her bedroom in such a condition.

  “As you can see,” Meg mumbled in explanation, “I’ve already started.”

  “Uh, yeah. But what are you going to do with all of this stuff?”

  “Give it to charity. There are plenty of homeless men out there.”

  “I know. I’ve dated most of them.”

  “They could have used some of these things years ago.” Meg bent over the open drawer and started pulling out the neat stack
s of tee shirts. “That’s where I’ll send all of these. To a homeless shelter.”

  There was a pause, and Meg heard her friend rummaging through the piles.

  “Oh! And I’m sure these photos of you and Robert will really keep them warm this winter. And...and these books...who cares if they’re starving to death, at least they’ll have some serious literary shit to read...for entertainment. Impressive.”

  “I don’t need your criticism. But I could use a little help.” She knew she sounded short, but she didn’t care. She motioned toward the boxes Rebekah had brought with her. “Why don’t you start putting the books and those things in that pile into those. I have some trash bags underneath the sink that we can use for the bulkier clothes.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Meg pulled out the next drawer, gazing at the contents. Polo shirts.

  “Meg, what are the suitcases for?”

  “For me! I’m packing.”

  There was a pause, but Meg didn’t look up as she placed the shirts on the floor.

  “Have you decided where you’re going?”

  “I don’t know! I thought to start with...I thought, maybe New York.”

  “You have an interview? Any prospects?”

  “I wish!” Pulling open the next drawer, Meg shook her head at yet another stock of polo shirts. How come she didn’t remember him having so many stupid shirts? “That does it!”

  Her patience gone, she pulled the drawer sharply out of its track and dumped the shirts unceremoniously on top of the pile.

  “No! I don’t have an interview. I don’t have any prospects. I’m just going to get a one-way ticket to New York. And when I get there, I’m going to knock on some doors. Maybe even beg for a job. Whatever it takes.”

  The handle on the drawer came off in her hand. With an angry cry, she added the drawer, as well, to the top of the pile.

  “They can’t wear that.”

  “What?”

  Rebekah pointed sheepishly at the broken drawer. “The homeless...they can’t wear that.”

  “They can burn it for heat, for all I care.” Meg stopped short and turned her back to her friend.

  She could hear Rebekah quietly putting things into boxes behind her. Meg crouched down and opened the bottom drawer. Cardigan sweaters.

  “Evan. That was his name, wasn’t it?”

  Meg ran her fingers lightly over the cashmere. All of the sudden, she couldn’t hold back the pooling of tears in her eyes. She wiped away a drop that fell on the soft wool.

  “He was a really good influence,” Rebekah continued in an ironic tone of voice. I don’t think I ever heard you come close to saying the ‘f’ word before.”

  “Don’t start on me, Rebekah! I’m really in no mood, right now.”

  “I can see that.”

  Meg tried to pull the bottom drawer out of the dresser, but it stuck.

  “Dammit!”

  “That’s another new one.”

  “Rebekah!”

  “Okay. Well, how was Newport, anyway?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Meg tried to blink back her tears, and probably would have succeeded, but when she felt her friend’s hand on her shoulder, a sob rose in her chest that would not be ignored.

  “Okay,” Rebekah said softly, crouching beside her. “Then let’s talk about Evan.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Jada’s father Ted navigated back into Newport harbor on Monday with the best catch of fish he’d taken in ten years.

  No longer having to worry about Jada and the day to day needs of a new mother and her baby, Evan finally had all the time he wanted to sulk. It takes practice to be a good sulker, though, and he was only in moderately good form by Monday night, when Phil tried to drag him out on a double date with two socialites just in from Aspen. Evan begged off, complaining of a sudden attack of flu.

  On Tuesday, miraculously recovered from the flu, he’d stared at his computer for most of the morning. By noon, he’d deleted nearly everything that he’d written the preceding day. By three in the afternoon, Evan decided to get drunk. Very drunk. The boys down at the pub were more than happy to keep him company as long as he was picking up the tab.

  At exactly 1:07 a.m. an entirely inebriated mob of singers exited the Thames Street Pub and began their parade through the center of Newport toward the Point section of town. Most of these wayward troubadours would never see the inside of Carnegie Hall based on their vocal talent. Nonetheless, as the entourage continued its early morning tour through a lightly falling drizzle, the town was treated to an incredibly loud and off-key version of the old Rod Stewart song “Maggie.”

  Damn, Evan thought, trying to focus on one of the gas lamps along Washington Street. For the life of him he couldn’t remember telling them about Meg! Later, though, after dismissing his escort with a ceremony no less solemn than General Washington’s dismissal of his troops, it occurred to him that, quite possibly, Maggie...er, Meg had been the only thing he’d talked about all night.

  Wednesday morning--at least the minute or two that Evan saw of it--was gray and dismal. Sometime in the early afternoon, he woke up again with a jackhammer in his head and a phone ringing off the hook. Jerking the receiver off its cradle, Evan growled menacingly into the thing. Unfortunately, it was his lawyer John, whining that he’d been trying to get hold of Evan since Monday with the additional information about Meg Murphy.

  Evan told John to go and fly a kite, and that he didn’t know any Meg Murphy.

  Thursday, he gave the cab to a young Haitian mechanic working at the cab company.

  Friday night, Jada called to tell him the results of the day’s travels. She and her father had taken the baby to Boston that day for more tests and to meet with the heart surgeon. Meg had showed up in the hospital and had lunch with them.

  Evan immediately changed the topic and asked about the baby.

  “He’s fine! I mean, he still needs surgery, but they think that should wait another six months or so, until he is a little bit older and stronger. But he’s in no danger right now. And Evan, we can take him home now.”

  “That’s great, sweetheart. About time, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll say! I am so excited. And dad’s thrilled too. He is so funny--he just sits there, smiling and holding Little Ted in those big, rough hands of his.” Jada gave a little sigh. “You know after seeing how attached they’ve gotten in just these past few days, I’ve begun to see things a little different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, like questioning the past. Daddy’s been so great, and we’ve talked a lot. I’ve decided that it doesn’t make any sense to beat yourself up over stuff that’s over and done with. I’m going to accept what’s done, learn from it, and look ahead.”

  If only he could do the same, Evan thought. Drunk or sober, he could still feel Meg around him. It didn’t matter if he were sitting in front of his computer or going out and running until his legs were ready to fold, he could still hear her soft laugh. He could smell her in the autumn breeze. He could feel her breath on his ear as she whispered words of passion. She was everywhere. In his mind. In his heart. In his soul.

  “I think she’s lost some weight she didn’t need to lose.”

  “Who?” he asked as casually as he could.

  “Come off it, Evan! You can’t fool me with that stuff.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  There was a pause on the line. “Okay! If we don’t talk about her, then I won’t have to ask you what happened between you.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And I won’t have to ask why two people who are so perfectly matched, all of the sudden have to act like a pair of immature teenagers.”

  “Watch what you say, sweetheart. I think you might still be considered one yourself.”

  “Exactly my point. It takes one to know one...or two!”

  Evan walked over to the counter and refilled his coffee cup. “I’d love
to stand around and chat, Jada, but I have a hot date.”

  “A date?”

  “Uh, yeah, Mom. Can I have the keys to the car?”

  “Is she as beautiful as Meg?”

  He glanced across the room at the laptop computer sitting on the sofa. “Well, she is pretty well built.”

  “Is she as funny?”

  “As a matter of fact, she’s got a great memory for jokes.”

  “Better in bed?”

  The cup hit the counter with a bang. “Do you want all the gory details? Don’t you think you’re a bit young to be asking these questions?”

  “Look!” she replied, her voice rising a dozen decibels or so. “You’re my friend. But so is Meg, and I think it’s incredibly low--in fact, bordering on despicable--for you to go out on a date with another woman so soon after breaking up with Meg. Evan?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a miserable, old, no good...”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “...sonovabitch!”

  Evan couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. You said it. Feel better?”

  “No.”

  “There is no other woman, Jada. And no, I’m not going on a date tonight. Are you happy?”

  There was an audible sigh of relief on the other end. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What about the bimbo with the good memory?”

  “I was talking about the computer.”

  “Very funny.”

  “If Your Highness is done with me, I should be getting back to work.”

  “Okay. Oh, Evan! I hope you don’t mind, but dad told me the truth about you being that writer guy. I mean, I think it’s pretty awesome how you’ve been faking it as a cab driver and all that.”

  He leaned against the counter, and his eye fixed on the necklace that had been lying untouched for so many days now.

  “Yeah, well. I won’t be driving the cab anymore.”

  “I just want you to know that I think it’s pretty cool. Dad said that you two met when you went along on one of the boats as a fisherman a few years ago. He said...”

  Jada continued to talk, but Evan was hearing something else. The sound of Meg’s soft laughter rippled through his mind. It was the same laugh that he’d heard when he unclasped the necklace from her neck before taking her to the sofa. He looked across the room and saw in his mind’s eye the two of them stretched naked on it. For a moment he could almost feel the softness of her skin beneath his lips--under the tips of his fingers.