by Knupp, Amy
“For what?”
“For…everything, I guess. I haven’t been myself.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been kind of a jerk.”
He chuckled. “One of the things that makes you you. Total honesty.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, peering at him over the half-full moving box. “Something’s different.”
He sighed. “I’d rather not get into it.”
“Not going to work this time. Tell me, Trent.”
He became engrossed in sorting his movie titles according to genre, and Carey let him ignore her for several minutes. “It has to do with the brunette in the pictures, doesn’t it? Erin?”
His head shot up. “What makes you say that?”
She held back her victorious satisfaction at his telling reaction. “I can just tell.”
He leaned back against the couch, fiddling with a sci-fi flick with giant insects on the case. “I was engaged to Erin.”
Carey thought her eyes might pop out of her head. “You were engaged?”
He nodded slowly.
“And you didn’t tell me?” She crawled across the floor and planted herself next to him. “What happened?”
He tilted his head back, resting it on the couch, his eyes closed. “It didn’t work out.”
“Man of many words, would you care to elaborate?” His mood had suddenly become morose.
He opened his eyes and looked directly at her. “Not really.”
“Tough,” she said. “What happened to Erin?”
“She was perfect for me,” he finally said. “She was up there doing the same thing…guiding fishing expeditions. She’s a natural. Never met a woman who could fish like her.”
“I’ve never met a woman who wanted to,” Carey said dryly. “Anyway…so she seemed like your dream woman…”
He nodded. “I fell hard. We spent more and more time together and eventually became involved.”
“You slept with her,” Carey interpreted, knowing her brother wasn’t the type to go to bed until his heart was into it.
“We were inseparable. I thought life couldn’t get any better.” He paused. “Then she got pregnant. Since I was head over heels, it didn’t faze me at all. I proposed and she accepted.”
The news staggered Carey. To think she’d almost had a sister-in-law was one thing, but becoming an aunt…and she’d known nothing about it.
“She lost the baby at eleven weeks. Two weeks later, she told me she didn’t love me, wasn’t sure if she ever had. She’d been willing to marry me for the sake of the child, but since the baby was gone, she was ready to move on.”
“Oh, Trent.” Carey placed her hand on his arm instinctively. “That’s terrible.”
He didn’t speak, merely nodded his head.
“How long ago was this? Is that why you came home so suddenly?”
“She went back to Virginia a couple of weeks before I came home. I tried to hang with it, tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. But I couldn’t do it. Everything reminded me of her.”
“So you came back,” Carey said unnecessarily, “and found your sister pregnant. That must have been a bizarre déjà vu.”
“That’s one way to put it. You were just about as far along as she would’ve been. If you were happily married, I’d be thrilled to death.”
Understanding dawned on her. He’d done what he thought was the right thing by asking Erin to marry him. Leaving a woman to be a single parent was not an option in his mind. But of course, he had clearly loved Erin, too.
He was confusing her situation with his own. Proposing to Erin had been as natural for him as breathing. What he didn’t comprehend was that she didn’t love Jerod. She’d made a major mistake, but marrying Jerod, even if he wanted to marry her, would be an even bigger one.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said sincerely. Erin had broken his heart. He was still hurting, and that had to be a large part of the reason he’d been such a bear to live with. “You know, the pregnancy is really the only part of my story that’s close to yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I made a big mistake. Terrible judgment. That’s the reason I’m looking single motherhood in the face.”
“Oh, so this is about you deserving to pay for screwing up?”
“No. I don’t consider it paying, Trent. I’m going to have a baby—a girl, by the way. I love her already.” She couldn’t hide a smile. “I never in my life imagined having to raise a child alone, especially after growing up without a dad.” She stood and paced. “It’s not ideal. But it’s my reality. I want to surround this child with people who love her and cherish her. I think it’s wrong to force the father to stick around, either by marrying me or otherwise, just so she can say she has a dad.”
Trent didn’t look convinced.
“We both know Mom wasn’t the best at being a single parent, but it could’ve been worse,” she said.
“It can always be worse.”
This wasn’t the brother she used to know. Erin had done a number on him. He seemed older, wearier…jaded.
“Well,” she said, realizing she wasn’t going to convince him today that she was making a wise choice, “all I can say is that I’ll do the best I can.”
Trent was quiet while Carey closed the box she’d stuffed her movies and CDs in, rolling a strip of packing tape across the top. As soon as she set the roll of tape down, Jeeves hopped up to claim the box for his nap.
“This whole moving-out thing,” Trent began. “You’re not doing it just so you can spend more time with Devin, are you?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why can’t you let that go?”
Shrugging, he answered, “I know you care about him, Carey. It’s obvious. I can see why you wouldn’t feel comfortable having him over here.”
She threw her arms up in frustration. “For your information, I’ve never slept with Devin. This decision isn’t about him. If you’d open your eyes, you’d see I’m trying to make the best decision for my daughter. Trying to be responsible. I’m not dwelling on what should or could have been and how things should’ve worked out with Jerod. I’m moving forward the best I know how. I suggest you try to do the same. You’re stuck on the past, Trent. Devin hurt your little sister years ago. You still hold it against him. Erin stole your heart. You still wonder how you could’ve changed things, how you could’ve made everything all better. But you can’t. Some things you just can’t fix.”
“I’m not trying to fix anything.”
“Let them go, Trent. Be sad about Erin, but try to move on.”
She plucked Jeeves off the box and took him with her to her room so she could pack the rest of her belongings. As she shut the bedroom door, she was strangely calm. Saying her piece felt good.
As she flopped on her bed, letting the cat scurry to the pillow, she realized she really was moving in the right direction. She felt sure of it. More sure of herself. In spite of Trent’s disapproval, she knew she would do her very best as a single mom.
“COME ON, Carey, answer the door!” Devin stood impatiently outside the garage apartment he’d helped her move into the day before. It was just after 11:00 p.m.—usually Carey was a night owl. He was frantic to see her, but if he pounded any harder, he’d wake up the neighborhood. Her phone apparently wasn’t hooked up yet, and her cell phone was turned off. Just when he needed her most, she was unreachable.
Finally, the outside light next to her door went on, and she pushed the curtains aside to look out. He heard her unlock the door, and then it swung open.
“Devin? What are you doing here?”
He walked into the dark kitchen without a word, and she closed the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?”
He sucked in a long breath. “Gramps. He…he’s dead.” It was the first time he’d said it aloud, and it was even harder than he’d expected. His throat threatened to swell shut with the effort of holding so much back.
�
��What?” The shock in her voice matched his reaction when he’d gotten the news.
“Tell me what happened.” She took his hand in hers.
Devin moved toward her automatically, stood inches away, and he was glad it was dark, because his emotions were on overdrive. “I called him this evening several times and got no answer. I finally had a neighbor go over and check on him. She found him on the kitchen floor, next to a shattered glass of juice.” His voice wavered. The thought of Gramps shuffling through the kitchen with his OJ, his oxygen cord trailing behind him, was too much. Imagining what had happened was unbearable. “He had a heart attack.”
Carey wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him to her. Grateful for the contact, he held on, lost, wishing she could lessen the pain.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered after several minutes. She sniffled. He’d only been semi-aware she was crying. “I know how important he was to you.”
He nodded. There was nothing to say, nothing he could think of to make this go away. He wished for a phone call from the neighbor saying it had all been a mistake, that Gramps, the old man who meant the world to Devin, was alive and well.
Carey ran her hands up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him, and although he didn’t think he’d ever feel good again, he didn’t want her to stop touching him.
“What else did they tell you? Do they know when it happened?”
“This morning sometime. They think he died instantly.”
“Then he didn’t suffer.” She said it softly, as if she was reassuring herself.
He wasn’t comforted by the notion. They could say Gramps hadn’t suffered, but who really knew? His grandpa might have been in pain all night. Maybe he’d had chest pains for hours before the big one. He might have known what was going on. He was stubborn enough to refuse to call Devin or to ask anyone else for help. He wouldn’t want to be a burden. Devin squeezed his eyes shut. Gramps, I would have been there for you.
“That doesn’t really help much, does it?” Carey said quietly. “Come in the living room.”
As he followed her, he finally noticed what she was wearing by the streetlight shining through the window into the otherwise dark room. He assumed her shorts and tank were pajamas.
“Hell, Carey, you were asleep. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“So? Sleep hardly matters when you’re going through this.”
“You’re pregnant.”
She took two indignant steps toward him. “Devin, I would’ve hurt you if you hadn’t come over. Shut up about the sleep.”
He understood her words were sincere. She didn’t mind being woken up in the middle of the night because he needed her. For what, he wasn’t sure. But knowing she understood what Gramps had meant, even just knowing she’d met the man, gave him a small measure of comfort. Being alone had never bothered him before, but tonight he needed someone. Not just anyone, actually. He needed Carey.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Baby needs a bathroom break.”
He stretched out on the couch, intending to make room for her when she returned since it was the only place to sit in the sparsely furnished room.
One of Carey’s cats—he could never remember which was which—jumped up onto the back of the sofa near his head. He absently stroked the animal’s fur.
In his overwhelming grief, he wanted to take care of everything for Gramps. Get things just the way he would’ve wanted them. Devin had several phone calls to make but he’d tackle that in the morning.
“Lean up for a second,” Carey said, startling him. “Snicket, move over.” The cat skittered to the cushion by Devin’s feet. Carey sat in the spot where Devin’s head had been, her legs in front of her on the old trunk that served as a coffee table. “Lie down again.”
She pulled his head into her lap and began running her hands through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently. The only sounds were the soft whir of the window air conditioner and a cricket chirping faintly from some dark corner. Her lap made a firm pillow, and her warmth was calming, reassuring.
After a few minutes, he had to admit her fingers were working magic, helping him relax. They weren’t getting rid of the ache in his chest, but he no longer felt frantic and out of control.
She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, her eyes closed. He would have believed her asleep if not for the continued light movements of her fingers. He allowed his eyes to drift shut as well, although there was no chance of falling asleep. His head and heart were embroiled in too much turmoil.
After a long while, her fingers did stop moving and Devin knew she was asleep. He sat up carefully. Staring at her for a long moment, he thought how tired she must be and then to have him wake her up so late. He hated to move her, but she wouldn’t be comfortable here all night.
He made his way back to her bedroom and flipped the light on. The blankets on her bed were tangled and thrown halfway across it. Straightening them, he pulled them back so he could draw them over her once he got her in here. Then he turned the light back off and returned to the living room.
His arms under her knees and back, he balanced on the sofa with one knee as he lifted her. Four-and-a-half-months pregnant and she still didn’t weigh much. As he stood with her in his arms, she mumbled something indecipherable and rested her head on his shoulder.
Moments later, he tucked Carey into bed and tried to leave. But he couldn’t. The thought of being by himself nearly did him in. He kicked his shoes off and crawled under the covers next to her. Sliding close, he put an arm around her just for the human touch. Nothing more.
And he remained like that, not sleeping, trying not to think about guilt or grief, until dawn, when he crept out of bed and went home to start one of the most painful days of his life.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHOEVER SAID funerals served as closure for the living was full of crap. When you were drowning in guilt and regret, there was no closure.
Devin stared out the Excursion’s passenger window at the scattered headstones, not really seeing anything. Carey had offered to drive from the church to the cemetery after the service, and for once, he’d readily given up the wheel.
“We should go,” Carey said in a soft voice.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t move.
Devin couldn’t bear the idea of the final goodbye. Not when he’d blown it so thoroughly during the last weeks of Gramps’s life. He wasn’t ready to let the man go. Wouldn’t ever be ready.
He wished he could have even two months back to do over with Gramps. The old man had tried to tell him, as if he’d known his time was limited. He’d tried to make him see his career wasn’t everything.
But Devin hadn’t gotten it. Not in time.
Carey appeared outside his door and opened it. Most of the group from the funeral were already gathered, waiting. Without a word, he climbed down and took Carey’s hand. They made their way through the soggy grass in silence. After a night of violent storms, the day had dawned clear, but the air was so thick with humidity Devin could barely get a full breath. Or maybe that was the regret that squeezed his chest.
As they neared the burial plot, Devin glanced around, recognizing many of the faces of those who’d cared about his grandpa. The eighty-somethings, several seldom-seen relatives who’d flown into town, Jerod and his father, most of Jerod’s sisters, even Uncle Jonathon. The one missing person was Landon, Devin’s cousin. He’d been on a business trip in Europe and, by the time Devin had tracked him down, it was impossible for him to return to the States in time for the funeral.
After Devin and Carey made their way to the front of the group, the priest began speaking. Devin heard none of the words. He focused on the cold metal box in front of him, fighting the regret.
The minutes passed by and the brief ceremony neared an end. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Devin forced himself to watch. “I’m sorry, Gramps.” He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye.
A WEEK AFTER the funeral,
Devin figured it’d be a good idea to get back to work. He’d been showing up in his office each day, but he couldn’t name one thing he’d accomplished. In a numb haze, he’d been unable to concentrate on anything.
Monica, who’d been keeping the operation together single-handedly, appeared in his doorway, waited until he finished setting up a sales appointment. “I’m going to lunch. Want to join me?”
“Nah, I’m on a roll, relatively speaking. Thanks, though.”
She looked as if she was about to say something, then shrugged and left.
Once Monica was gone, the silence seemed to grow. It had never bugged him in the past, but nowadays it felt so heavy, oppressive.
He clicked on the music library on his computer and set it to play some old hard rock from the eighties. Not a chance of anything weepy or depressing with that.
He was flipping through the latest Info World magazine, thrashing his head to the beat of the music, when he noticed Carey standing a few feet from his desk. He scrambled to find the mouse and click Pause. “If you didn’t look so good, I’d take my damn key back from you,” he said sheepishly.
“Nothing quite like Ratt.” She shuddered. “Got a minute?”
“Got lots of minutes.”
Carey leaned against his desk. “I brought something for you.” Suddenly she seemed shy and unsure of herself. She held out a plain blue gift bag.
“What’s this for?” Devin took the bag, puzzled.
“Just something I thought you might want. I hope it doesn’t upset you.”
He opened it and took out something hard that was wrapped in tissue paper. He pulled the paper off to reveal a picture frame. Smooth, dark red wood. He flipped it over and caught his breath.
He and Gramps at the birthday party. Their attention focused on each other instead of the camera.
Devin swallowed hard, overcome by bittersweet love and sadness. His grandpa was so real, so alive in the photo. It seemed impossible that Devin would never see him again.
“Carey…” he forced out. He felt moisture in his eyes as he looked up at her.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry, Devin. It’s too soon…”
