The man cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. Then he straightened, as if making some sort of resolution, and said, “Mrs. Jensen, I regret to inform you that your husband, Theodore Brian Jensen, was killed in an automobile accident this evening at 7:25 p.m. on the on-ramp from Spear Boulevard to I-25. He was sideswiped by a semi tractor-trailer whose breaks failed, killing him instantly.”
Laura stood there, her body feeling as if it were suspended from a cable, the floor having been pulled from under her. The next thing she knew, the floor rose up to meet her as she fainted.
Chapter Three
Laura woke in her bed to sun shining through the window. She stretched languidly and yawned. She was wearing the same nightgown she had put on to wait for Terry to return the night before.
It had all been a dream! she thought. Thank God!
She reached her hand out to Terry’s side of the bed, but it was empty. No worries, he was probably already downstairs, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper like he did every morning before rushing off to work.
After performing her morning ablutions, she headed downstairs, the smell of coffee wafting in the air.
“Terry, why didn’t you wake me?” she called from the bottom of the stairs. She glanced at the grandfather clock as she passed the living room. “Dear, you’re going to be late! It’s almost…”
She had entered the kitchen and was shocked to see several people sitting around the table.
“What’s going on?” Laura asked suspiciously.
Pam, Laura’s sister, her eyes red and puffy, walked up to her and hugged her so tightly she thought her back would break. Chris, Pam’s husband, looked down at his coffee, studying it as if there was a lesson somewhere within its dark depths he was studying. Polly froze as she turned from the oven, a batch of biscuits, warm and fluffy on a cookie sheet in her mitted hand. Her eyes were also red, but her countenance was much more reserved and under control than Pam’s. The woman moved again, moving the biscuits onto a platter that sat next to plates with an assortment of pastry—store bought more than likely from the way they looked—and a dish of fresh fruit.
How did I not smell the biscuits? was Laura’s first thought. She wondered about this, how she could be concerned for the biscuits and not about the reason her sister had a tight grip on her. Or why her Uncle Greg and Aunt June were there sitting in the corner. Or why Terry wasn’t sitting at the table drinking his cup of coffee and reading the morning paper.
Then all of the memories of the night before came crashing down around her. Her late dinner. The anger at Terry for being late once again. Her resolution to take steps to repair the love in their marriage. The strange melody of the doorbell waking her in the night. The police officers standing nervously on the step. The message they delivered. She falling to the floor.
“Oh, Terry!” she wailed into Pam’s shoulder. The tears poured from her, and she thought they would never stop. Her legs gave out, and before she could fall to the floor, hands guided her to a chair where she sat down heavily. And still the tears would not stop.
It was as if something was clenching her heart, and her arms and legs had given up hope of ever working again. If Polly’s steady arm had not been around her, Laura knew she would have toppled over. Cotton filled her head and she blew her nose into the tissue someone had given her. She could hear her sobs echoing through the kitchen and could do nothing to stop them. Her breath came in gasps and the world seemed to stand still.
After what seemed a lifetime, the earth began its slow rotation once again. Laura felt the air enter her lungs as she loosened her grip on the arm that was wrapped around her. If her grasp had hurt Polly, the woman gave no indication. Laura looked at her kind face and she relaxed. She blew her nose once again and then straightened herself. With her eyes closed, she drew in a deep calming breath, letting it out slowly before opening her eyes once again.
“I-I’m sorry, everyone,” she said as her eyes scanned the people in the room.
A mixture of voices said, in their own words, that she had nothing to worry about.
“Honey, you’ve had a huge loss,” Pam said from her kneeling position in front of Laura. “You just cry as much as you need to.”
Laura took the coffee cup Polly offered her and took a sip before setting it on the table. Pam went to an empty chair and sat down, her eyes filled with tears, which she wiped away with her palms.
“What happened? The last thing I remember was the doorbell ringing and the cops…”
“My number is listed below the security system,” Polly said. “The police immediately called me when you collapsed. I was here within five minutes.” She gave a weak laugh. “I was lucky to not be caught speeding.”
Thoughts began to bombard her, and she felt overwhelmed by them. “What do I do now? I don’t know how to plan a funeral. Who do I talk to? Do I need to contact a funeral home? What about his…his body? What do I do about that? Where do I buy a headstone? When…”
Uncle Greg cleared his throat. “Not to worry. Fortunately, or perhaps I should say unfortunately, your aunt and I have had to plan several.” He did not mention whose, but Laura knew he meant her grandparents, her Aunt Sheila, and her and Pam’s mother, who had died when Laura was seven and Pam was ten. She and her sister had gone to live with their aunt and uncle, who raised them both as if they were their own.
Laura was not sure what to say. She looked up at the family that surrounded her. They had all loved Terry, so this was not just her loss; it was all of theirs. With this thought came a resolution inside her. She would get through this, and she would stay strong.
“Thank you all for being here,” she said in a steady voice. “We have a lot of plans to make.” She looked at her uncle. “So, where do we start?”
As if a blanket had been lifted from a birdcage, the people around her became animated once again. The discussion turned to contacts that would have to be made, plans that would need to be completed, and each person volunteered their services. Laura sat in wonder at the love she felt, and the hole in her heart, for that very moment anyway, was filled, or at least covered temporarily with a bandage.
It would not be until much later, when everyone was gone and she was left alone in her large house, that the emptiness would overcome her again. But at least for now, she would manage.
Chapter Four
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” a portly gentleman said as he took Laura’s hand, just like the umpteenth person before him. Fatigue plagued her, but she stood resolute and strong as each person stopped, shook her hand or gave her a hug, and gave their condolences. It was the socially correct way to handle a funeral, and she was known for being socially capable.
“Thank you, Mr. Samson,” she said with a sincere tone. She was appreciative of the many friends, family, and even acquaintances that stopped by to pay their respects. Yet, she had been standing there for what seemed like hours, and she was getting tired. She peeked a glance at the line and saw the end was near.
After several more hugs and a few more handshakes, when everyone had finally gone, Laura took her sister’s arm and they headed back into the church. Terry had been cremated, so there was only a small wake at the funeral home two days ago and then services today. She walked down the main aisle, the same one she and Terry had walked down the day they were married eight years ago, and stopped to stare at the portrait that leaned against an easel, flower arrangements set around it. She had no clue what she would do with all the flowers.
She felt Pam move away to give her privacy, and Laura stood there, her eyes closed and her thoughts on the quietness of the church’s sanctuary.
“You know, Mrs. Jensen,” a voice said from behind her, “you can donate the flowers to a nursing home.”
Laura turned and watched as Emily, Terry’s assistant, came down the aisle. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that set off the curves of her trim athletic body. Embarrassed, Laura turned back to the portrait, admonishing herself for t
hinking of Emily in such a way. The woman was beautiful, that was true, but she was just that…a woman.
Then why was Laura short of breath and trying not to fidget with her hair? And at her husband’s funeral no less.
“That…that’s a good idea,” Laura said. She stood looking at her husband’s photo and her chest contracted once more. She allowed the tears to flow now that she was not under the scrutiny of so many other people, many of whom she did not know. “You know, we had our troubles, just like any marriage does, but I cared for him. I’m going to miss him so terribly much,” she said.
Emily laid her hand on Laura’s arm. “Would you like me to help you get the flowers to whom they need to go?”
“Oh, would you?” Laura asked. She wasn’t sure why this small task brought on a feeling of relief, but it flowed through her nonetheless. “That would be so helpful. To be honest, I’m just struggling to get out of bed every morning; I’m afraid thinking of flowers is not very high on my list of priorities at the moment. Even Polly has to remind me to eat.” She paused and then smiled, her eyes still on Terry’s photo. “Do you know how we met?”
She felt, rather than saw, Emily shake her head.
“I was eating dinner at Mario’s, you know, the little Italian restaurant on Colfax? Well, it was downpouring outside. I was watching as people rushed around trying to get out of the rain when a noticed a man—he was very handsome—walking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.” She laughed at the memory. “When he looked at me through the window, water dripping from his hair and running down his face and neck; he was drenched. I began to laugh and he just stood there and smiled. The next thing I knew, he came into the restaurant and asked if he could join me.”
“Really?” Emily gasped. “I would’ve been a little worried he was some sort of weirdo or something.”
Laura chuckled. “Oh, I did wonder about that, but he was so handsome and friendly I couldn’t resist. So he sat and ordered something to eat. We talked for hours.” She sighed. “I never believed in Love at First Sight until that very moment.” There was a long pause. “I just wished we could have kept that love going,” she added under her breath.
Laura was not sure Emily had hear what she had said, and she honestly did not care. The two women stood there, saying nothing, just looking at Terry Jensen’s portrait.
“Mr. Jensen was always so kind to me,” Emily said finally. “He remembered my birthday, something not even my own mother or father ever remembered. It was as if the room lit up when he walked in…” she stopped and turned to Laura. “By the way, there was never anything between us, just in case you ever worried about that. I know that it can be very stereotypical for the secretary to have an affair with the boss, but I assure you, nothing like that ever happened. I think he was too in love with you to have had an affair with anyone anyway. Plus, he wasn’t my type.” She gave a tiny smile at that.
A sob escaped Laura, and she brought her tissue up to her face as the flood of tears erupted once again. Emily walked her to the front pew and they sat down together. Laura continued to cry for the next ten minutes, Emily holding her, saying nothing but just being there for her.
Why hadn’t he showed me more often, Laura thought as the tears ran down her face. Why did he have to be so distant?
She could probably ask herself the same question. The thought brought more tears, this time tears of regret.
Footsteps echoed through the sanctuary and Laura turned and saw Sean Barkley, Terry’s business partner, making his way to where they were sitting. The two men had known each other since college, and once they graduated, had opened the architectural firm together. The business thrived almost from day one thanks to Terry’s outgoing personality and his ability to give great pitches.
Not only in business matters were Terry and Sean very different, but in looks as well. Where Terry was a ruggedly handsome man, average height and weight, with darker features, Sean was tall, much taller than most men Laura knew, thin with blond hair and gray eyes.
Although Sean was also Terry’s best friend, Laura always got an almost oily feel from the man, like he would slip under anyone or anything at any moment. There was something about him that she could not pinpoint, but whatever that something was, it brought chills anytime they were in the same room together.
However, she tried to be friendly for Terry’s sake. Fortunately, Terry wasn’t the type of businessman who thought his wife should host parties and impress his clients. Not that she never hosted dinner parties, but when she did, it was because she wanted to and not to win over some new client. Terry could do that all on his own.
Sean, however, was not as capable as Terry with his people skills. From what Laura understood, most of the clients Sean had were people Terry brought on board and then assigned to Sean. The man had never talked about this, but Laura sensed an underlining resentment whenever she was around him.
She shook her head. Maybe she had just imagined things. She certainly was not good at reading people like Terry was. People respected her, true, and not just because she was married to Terry. She could hold her own in any social setting. However, she gave people the benefit of the doubt as much as she could until they showed themselves to be other than capable. For some reason, she struggled to extend the same feelings to Sean.
Once he was standing in front of her, Sean took Laura’s hand in his and then covered it with his other hand. “Laura.” His voice was like honey, overly sweet. Laura imagined it more as sticky molasses. “I am so sorry I was late. Please, please, forgive me.” He seemed sincere.
“I’m glad you were able to make it,” Laura said pleasantly. “Please, have a seat.” She patted the space on the pew next to her.
“I will go and make some calls about the flowers,” Emily said, standing and heading toward the front doors.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Sean said, looking at the portrait. “He was my best friend. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“What do you mean?” Laura asked.
He waved his hand. “Oh, nothing.” He turned to her and smiled. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you, Sean. I think I will just head home now.”
“Let me take you,” he said in earnest. “I feel like I need to do something…something to help you. I know you say there’s nothing, but at least allow me to do this one small thing.”
Laura smiled. Maybe she had misjudged this man. He was handsome, his blond hair cut short on the sides with a longer wave on the top, styled back, not a single hair out of place. She looked into his gray eyes. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said finally. It was time to give him the benefit of the doubt she extended to everyone else.
On the way to Laura’s house, they shared funny stories about Terry.
“Then when the dean found out that we had been the culprits, he almost suspended us,” he said chuckling.
“You’re kidding me!” Laura laughed. It was nice to laugh; it meant she would be all right. “So, why didn’t he?”
Sean shook his head. “Terry! He could talk his way into a mob poker game wearing a police uniform. He was that good.”
They both laughed again, and Laura felt lighter than she had since receiving the news about Terry’s accident.
However, as they pulled into the driveway, a heaviness fell over Laura once again. It was difficult thinking of being alone in that big house, no Terry there as a companion. She had given Polly the week off so she would be able to mourn in private, and to allow Polly time to herself as well. The woman had argued, saying she wanted to be there to help, but Laura was finally able to convince her that she wanted to simply be alone.
When Sean stopped the car in front of the door, he placed his hand on Laura’s knee. “Would you like me to come in?” he asked, his voice kind.
Did she really want this man around? She sighed. He had been very kind and seemed to want to reach out to her. She was being selfish, she realized. He also needed comforting; he
had lost his best friend and confidante. Plus, despite what she had told Polly, she really did not want to be alone.
“Why not?” Laura said after a few moments. “We can have a toast to Terry.”
Once inside, Laura took Sean’s coat and hung it in the hall closet, along with her own. She led him into the sitting room. “Have a seat anywhere,” she said as she headed over to the liquor cart. “What should we drink to Terry?”
She pulled out a bottle of scotch and opened a small refrigerator under the cart to take out some ice. “How about a nice scotch? Would you like…”
An arm went around her waist and she was pulled against Sean’s firm abs. His breath was hot on her neck as he leaned in to kiss her, his hand moving up her stomach to grasp one of her firm breasts.
Her breath caught in her throat. An anger as hot as molten lava erupted inside her as she turned and slapped his face as hard as she could.
“What are you doing?” she shouted as he took a step back from her. “How dare you! My husband’s ashes haven’t even cooled and you dare to make a move on me? Your best friend’s wife? Are you some sort of animal?”
He had a surprised look on his face as he reached up and touched his cheek, a small amount of blood coming from his split lip.
“I…I thought…I don’t know,” he said. “You know I’ve always been in love with you, Laura. I thought that…well, you and Terry weren’t exactly close…”
Laura’s head spun. She had no idea Sean had ever had feelings for her, nor did she realize that other people knew anything about their private lives.
“I don’t care,” she spat. “I love my husband. Whatever you might have felt for me…well…” she couldn’t put into words how angry and embarrassed she was to have this man, her husband’s best friend and business partner, hitting on her on the same day of his funeral.
Love by Design Page 2
