By the time they left the coffee shop, it was already four o’clock. Drew stopped as they reached his car. “Where are you parked?”
“I walked. I live just up the hill.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
***
They pulled into the driveway at Amy’s house. She made no move to get out, and Drew turned off the engine. They remained, sitting silence, for several moments.
“It’s, uh, it’s almost five,” Amy said. “Suppertime before long.”
“That’s right.” Drew said, turning his head away from her.
She followed his gaze to the oak tree beside the house. The leaves are already beginning to turn, she thought. It was early for that.
“Would you like to come in? I was thinking of something simple—eggs, bacon. I know we had breakfast earlier…we can call it supper.”
“I’d like that.”
Amy paused as they reached the front door. “It’s kind of messy. I would have cleaned up if I had known, if I had planned.”
Drew laughed. “My house is a disaster area. Don’t worry about it.”
She prepared a quick meal, and they were halfway through supper when the front door opened.
“It’s me, Mom,” Cathy called. “Just came back for my sweater. Do you have company?” She stopped short as she entered the breakfast room. “Dr. Nelson!”
“Hi, Catherine.”
“Cathy, do you and Bob want something to eat?”
Cathy blushed. “Uh, no. No. Let me get my sweater.” She ran from the room. A minute later, Amy heard her call from the door. “Bye. I won’t be home late.” There was a pause, and then Cathy walked back into the breakfast room. “I’ll be home about eleven. Not before.” She looked at Amy. “The two of you will be alone until eleven. Behave. Hands to yourselves. A foot apart. No kiss—”
“Have a good time, Cathy.”
As the door closed behind her, Drew and Amy burst out laughing.
He looked at the clock. “We’re safe for the next four hours.”
“Good to know.” She took the last bite of her eggs. “How old are you, Drew? Cathy thinks you are a lot younger than I am.”
“I do look young. Always have. It’s a curse, but someone must do it.” He paused. “I’m fifty-seven. I must look really young if she thinks I’m younger than you are.”
“I’m fifty-five. Same curse. It’s nice now, but when I was thirty, with two children, and still being carded, well…”
“You married younger than I did. I was still in school at twenty-five.”
“We married the summer after college. Elaine arrived just a year later.”
“You wasted no time.”
“I was petrified that she would be premature and people would think I was pregnant when we married.”
“Few would worry about that today.”
“I suppose not. I tell Cathy, though, that she’d better not even think of such a thing.”
They both laughed.
“Did you stop work immediately after marriage?”
Amy began to clear the table. “I worked for a couple of years. Daycare was so expensive, and Jack wanted me at home, so I continued to work from the house. IT consultants don’t have to constantly be on site and I could write my programs around the baby’s schedule. I think I told you that about ten years ago, Jack’s company needed help with their inventory system. Their program was twenty years old and it was not designed to handle the volume of work.” Amy sighed. “I moved into a spare office down the hall from Jack and worked mornings for six months. Did a really good job, if I do say it myself. That job led to others.
Drew helped to carry the dishes into the kitchen and began to rinse them, handing them to Amy to put in the washer.
“You don’t really need to rinse them first,” she said.
“I know, but old habits…”
“I know.” She laughed. “My mother was never one to trust the machine to do it right.”
Amy closed the washer and leaned against the counter. “Anyway, one of my jobs—right after I worked for Jack’s company—was at our church. We go to St. Andrews. The church had fifteen hundred members and still had paper records. We had a new priest, and he was appalled with that, so they hired me to bring them into the twenty-first century.” She laughed. “The mailing lists were set up in the husband’s name. Mail to the wife was prefaced with the wife’s title, Mrs. and, unless she pitched a fit, followed by her husband’s name. Mine came to Mrs. Jack Barrett. In two thousand! Well, one couple who live down the street from us, both the husband and wife have doctorates. You probably know him. William Johnston?”
“Surely, Will is in our department.”
“The system knew to use Dr. as Jane’s title, but followed it with her husband’s name. Her mail would go out to Dr. William Johnston. He pointed out how ridiculous the system was by accepting an invitation to the women’s retreat one year.”
“You straightened it out.”
“I did.” Amy turned on the dishwasher and then dried her hands. “Jack couldn’t take it. A six-month gig at his office was one thing, but he realized that I was going to continue. I was receiving a regular salary.” She shook her head. “It all seemed to threaten him. I think that his affair began at about that time.”
She looked at Drew. “I didn’t know about the affair for years, discovered it by accident—you don’t want to hear all of this. Anyway…I have ice cream if you’d like some.”
She served it into bowls and they carried them into the den. Amy sat at one end of the sofa, Drew at the other.
She smiled. “You don’t need to sit way down there.”
“Cathy said to leave a foot of space between us. I thought that the middle cushion would suffice.”
Amy began to laugh. “I gave her a list of rules when she turned sixteen. I don’t know what I was thinking, Cathy was so good. She listened as I ran through the list—there must have been ten items or so—nodded her head, said ‘Sure, Mom, no problem.’”
“And she followed them?”
“Never told me that she didn’t. I pull them out occasionally just to tease her. She always nods and agrees.” Amy slid across the sofa. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He placed his empty bowl on the table and stretched out his arm around Amy’s shoulders.
She leaned in to him. “Now, the dream Barb was talking about, what does it mean?”
“If I were an analyst, I’d find all sorts of sexual symbolism in it—you can imagine. Since I’m not, I’d say that it meant absolutely nothing.”
“Give me more than that.”
“No one knows what causes dreams. I’d guess that a neuron fired at random and you tried to make sense of it.”
“Darn. I was hoping for something juicy.”
“I can make something up—or you can ask Jody. You’re cute when you blush.”
“Cute? Little girls are cute.”
“I’ll stand by my description.”
Amy picked up the bowls to take them to the kitchen, his tipped, spilling ice cream on her shirt.
“I’m so clumsy.”
“Must be a very special occasion.”
“Must be.” Amy smiled. “Let me change. Be right back.”
Two minutes later, she returned to the den to find Drew looking at the photographs displayed on the bookcases, reading the titles of the books on the shelves.
The front door opened and she looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Cathy.
“You said we had until eleven—” She stopped as she saw Elaine and Zach standing in the entrance hall.
Elaine looked at her mother, then at Drew.
“Hello, Elaine. Hi, Zach.” Amy gestured toward Drew. “This is a friend of mine, Drew Nelson, Dr. Andrew Nelson. I met him on the flight from Denver last summer.”
“Oh, yes.” Elaine sighed. “I thought he never called you. I thought you were over—”
“Elaine!” Amy glared at her. “Things change. Be pol
ite.”
Elaine turned toward Drew. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Nelson.”
They stood for a moment, no one speaking.
“We went to the grocery store and stopped to see if you were all right. You’ve not been answering your phone.”
“Really? I turned it off at lunch. I must have forgotten. Sorry.”
“You said that Grandma would read me a book.”
“No, Zach. Grandma is…occupied. Another time.” She looked at Amy. “We won’t bother you.” Elaine turned toward the door. “Good night, Mother. I’ll call you later. Good-bye, Dr. Nelson.”
Amy watched as Elaine stalked across the front yard to her car, Zach in tow. As she closed the door, she turned back to Drew. “That was pleasant. Anyway, now you’ve met my other daughter.”
Drew looked at his watch. “I do need to be going. It’s almost eight.”
They walked toward the door and stopped in the entrance hall. Amy looked at the floor while Drew rocked on his feet.
“I enjoyed the day,” she said quietly.
“I did too. I don’t recall ever having a nine-hour first date before.”
They both smiled.
Drew put his arms around Amy’s waist and she stepped toward him, placing hers around his neck. Then they stood in silence for several seconds, their faces almost touching.
Amy closed her eyes in anticipation as his hand slowly moved across her back, pulling her closer until her body was pressed against his.
“So much for staying a foot apart,” she whispered.
“So much for that.”
As he turned his head to the left, she turned hers to the right. Their noses bumped. Both of them laughed, then they grew quiet again.
Drew brushed his hand lightly across her cheek. She willed her body to relax as he turned her head and slowly moved her mouth toward his. Her heart was pounding, and she caught her breath as he gently kissed her—a quick, first-date, goodnight kiss, but now she didn’t want it to end, so she lingered. He did, too. She looked into his eyes and tears began to well up in hers. He pulled her even closer and kissed her again. Her legs felt weak and she held onto him for several moments longer—just to make sure that she didn’t fall.
“I’ll call you,” he said softly.
“Don’t wait six weeks this time.”
“I won’t.”
Standing in the doorway, she watched him turn around as he reached his car.
“Good night,” he called.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and waved as he climbed in and shut the car door.
Reaction
Amy closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them together to make them stop. Hurrying to the living room, she pulled back the curtain just enough to watch Drew as he backed out and drove away. Her hand was still trembling, causing the curtain to shake a little. As his car disappeared, she took a slow breath. It had been so long since a man had showed any interest in her. Jack had passed away eight months before, but they had been estranged—she supposed that was the term—for years already by then.
Thinking of Jack, she began to cry. “Damn you, Jack Barrett. Damn you.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I loved you, Jack,” she screamed. “I loved you,” she whispered now.
She had tried to please him. She had dieted and exercised to lose weight when he began to call her Chunky. She had gained most of it back when he’d said she looked anorexic. She had let her hair grow long like she had worn it in college, then cut it short when he began to mention Rapunzel. She had changed her wardrobe—dresses, skirts, back to pants. Different makeup. No makeup. She had stayed up late doing dishes so that she would have the time to sit with him to talk about his day.
Twice—no, three times—over the years she had suggested counseling. Each time, Jack had laughed.
She had known something was wrong, but she had never suspected an affair, a ten-year affair, not even when he began to criticize her—her cooking, of all things, her housekeeping, her body, how she made love. It was not until the end that she’d made the connection.
She had run into a friend from Jack’s office a couple of weeks after Jack’s funeral. Perhaps thinking that Amy was still interested in what went on at the office, the woman had tried to catch her up on all of the news. Marci, she had said, had gone to work for Tom Williams, Jack’s supervisor.
Marci was a wreck after Jack died, her friend had said. Marci had been totally devoted to Jack, had never made an independent decision and had been unable to cope alone until someone was selected to fill Jack’s position. Tom had taken her as his assistant out of pity.
Amy had another explanation for her transfer to Tom’s office, but she had realized, then, that Marci’s attraction had not been her body—as good as it looked—but her need for Jack. Jack needed to be needed, and, when Amy really began to work as a consultant, away from home, he had felt as if he was no longer an essential component of her life.
“If I had known at the beginning, I would have turned off my computer and never logged on again.” She paced back and forth through the living room, her arms clenched tightly around her body.
She had loved Jack. She loved him still—the Jack she had married, not the one from whom she had filed for a divorce. But they were both dead, one for almost a decade, the other for a matter of months.
Amy shook her head, pushing all thoughts of Jack out of her mind.
She’d had a wonderful day. A smile spread across her face and she hugged herself. The fact that she had given up on ever hearing from Drew made his call, and their date, even more special than it would have been.
Was it a date? She laughed aloud. Of course it was a date. He had agreed it was a date. And he would call her for another.
The telephone rang as Amy reached her bedroom.
“Mother, is he still there?” Elaine demanded to know.
“No, Elaine, Drew left right after you did, thank you.” Amy allowed her irritation to show.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mother? A strange man in your house? All alone? Where was Cathy?”
“Drew is not a stranger.”
“You know nothing about him.”
“He’s a friend of mine, Elaine, and I know a great deal about him. We went to lunch, shopped, had coffee, talked—I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
Amy heard Elaine gasp. “Lunch? You spent all day with him?”
“Pretty much.”
“Mother, don’t act like an old fool. He’s at least ten years younger than you are.”
“Elaine.” Amy stopped, deciding that she did not need to defend her decision to go out with Drew.
Elaine continued without a pause. “All he wants is to get you into bed. Daddy died months ago, so you might just let him. Does he know Daddy had life insurance?”
Amy started to reply, but was too shocked to speak. If only Elaine new about her father and his affair, she thought.
“He’ll take all of your money and disappear. Leave you high and dry, as they say.”
“Elaine, whom I see is my concern. What I do, is my concern. Neither is yours. Drew is a nice man, and I like him. I’ll see him whenever I wish. Good-bye, Elaine.” Amy hung up without waiting for a reply.
***
The house was dark when Drew arrived. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, and, as he turned down the hall toward his bedroom, he noticed light spilling into the hall from Di’s office. He peered in, half expecting to see her sitting at her desk, eyes on the monitor, deep at work on her next novel.
The office was empty, and he sighed. He had not really expected to find Di, but sometimes the feeling that she was nearby, just around the corner, in the next room, was so strong.
The boxes that held the items from the nursing home still lay on the desk. Drew sat in Di’s chair and pulled one of them toward him. He had intended to begin sorting through the office that afternoon. It was silly, he had decided, to leave the office
as it was, as Di had left it. He would use the room as his photography studio.
Studio was actually an overstatement. He would copy the images from his laptop to the computer on the desk, place his books on the shelves, and cover the walls with photographs—except for the icon corner. He would leave Di’s icons where she had hung them.
He missed her. Tears began to run down his cheeks, and he felt a thud in his chest each time his heartbeat.
What was he doing? Dating another woman? He had kissed her good night! His hands began to shake. How could he have done that?
As if looking at her things would make him feel better, he reached into the box and lifted out the icon she had been holding when she had died. He inspected it carefully, hearing her words. He’ll come for me in the same way. Drew was sure that he had done just that.
He ran his fingers over the surface and felt a piece of tape lapping over the edge. That was strange. Turning the icon over, he found a small envelope, the size one might use to send a thank-you card, taped to the back. Drew was written on the envelope in Di’s perfect cursive.
He gently loosened the envelope, removing the tape from the front of the image. He opened the note. Diana Alexander Nelson was embossed at the top of the page. Drew pulled his glasses from his pocket and read the note.
It’s not good that man be alone, we read in the Bible, but since you are reading this, I am gone, and you are alone. You know that I would not wish for you to spend your life in solitude. You are not to be afraid to fall in love again.
Drew removed his glasses and wiped his eyes before he continued.
Love is eternal. It is the only thing that endures. We loved each other with all of our hearts, you and I, and we will do so forever. But, Drew, you must love again. It will in no sense diminish what you have felt for me. Be happy, Drew. Be happy.
He placed the note gently on the desk, looking around, feeling as if he were not alone. Strange that he would find the letter tonight.
To Fall in Love Again Page 8
