by Devney Perry
“Where’s Mommy?”
I nodded toward the back. “In the kitchen.”
“Mommy!” she yelled as she ran in search of Molly.
I stood just as the door jingled again and my brother, Finn, stepped inside with two-year-old Max in his arms.
“Hi.” He crossed the room and tucked me into his side for a hug. “How are you?”
“Good.” I squeezed his waist, then stood on my tiptoes to kiss my nephew’s cheek. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
Finn was far from fine but I didn’t comment. “Do you want something to drink? I’ll make you your favorite caramel latte.”
“Sure.” He nodded and set down Max when Molly and Kali came out of the kitchen.
“Mama!” Max’s entire face lit up as he toddled toward his mother.
“Max!” She scooped him up, kissing his chubby cheeks and hugging him tight. “Oh, I missed you, sweetheart. Did you have a fun time at Daddy’s?”
Max just hugged her back while Kali clung to her leg.
Finn and Molly’s divorce had been rough on the kids. Seeing their parents miserable and splitting time between homes had taken its toll.
“Hi, Finn. How are you?” Molly’s voice was full of hope that he’d give her just a little something nice.
“Fine,” he clipped.
The smile on her face fell when he refused to look at her but she recovered fast, focusing on her kids. “Let’s go grab my stuff from the office and then we can go home and play before dinner.”
I waved. “See you tomorrow.”
She nodded and gave me her biggest smile. “I can’t wait. This is going to be wonderful, Poppy. I just know it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled good-bye to my best friend and ex-sister-in-law.
Molly looked back at Finn, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he didn’t. He kissed his children good-bye and then turned his back on his ex-wife, taking the stool Randall had vacated.
“Bye, Finn,” Molly whispered, then led the kids back through the kitchen to the small office.
The minute we heard the back door close, Finn groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “This fucking sucks.”
“Sorry.” I patted his arm and then went behind the counter to make his coffee.
The divorce was only four months old and both were struggling to adjust to the new normal of different houses, custody schedules and awkward encounters. The worst part of it all was that they still loved each other. Molly was doing everything she could to get just a fraction of Finn’s forgiveness. Finn was doing everything he could to make her pay.
And as Molly’s best friend and Finn’s sister, I was caught in between, attempting to give them both equal love and support.
“Is everything set for tomorrow?” Finn propped his elbows on the counter and watched me make his latte.
“Yes. I need to do a couple of things for the breakfast menu, but then I’m all set.”
“Want to grab dinner with me tonight? I can wait around for you to finish up.”
My shoulders stiffened and I didn’t turn away from the espresso drip. “Um, I actually have plans tonight.”
“Plans? What plans?”
The surprise in his voice wasn’t a shock. In the five years since Jamie had died, I’d rarely made plans that hadn’t included him or Molly. I’d all but lost touch with the friends Jamie and I’d had from college. The only girlfriend I still talked to was Molly. And the closest I’d come to making a new friend lately had been my conversation earlier with Randall.
Finn was probably excited, thinking I was doing something social and branching out, which wasn’t entirely untrue. But my brother wasn’t going to like the plans I’d made.
“I’m going to a karate class,” I blurted and started steaming his milk. I could feel his frown on my back, and sure enough, it was still there when I delivered his finished latte.
“Poppy, no. I thought we talked about giving up this list thing.”
“We talked about it, but I don’t remember agreeing with you.”
Finn thought my desire to complete Jamie’s birthday list was unhealthy.
I thought it was necessary.
Because maybe if I finished Jamie’s list, I could find a way to let him go.
Finn huffed and dove right into our usual argument. “It could take you years to get through that list.”
“So what if it does?”
“Finishing his list isn’t going to bring him back. It’s just your way of holding on to the past. You’re never going to move on if you can’t let him go. He’s gone, Poppy.”
“I know he’s gone,” I snapped, the threat of tears burning my throat. “I’m well aware that Jamie isn’t coming back, but this is my choice. I want to finish his list and the least you can do is be supportive. Besides, you’re one to talk about moving on.”
“That’s different,” he countered.
“Is it?”
We went into a stare-down, my chest heaving as I refused to blink.
Finn broke first and slumped forward. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.”
I stepped to the counter and placed my hand on top of his. “I know, but please, try and understand why I need to do this.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get it. I don’t know why you’d put yourself through all that. But you’re my sister and I love you, so I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand. “I want you to be happy too. Maybe instead of dinner with me, you should go to Molly’s? You could try and talk after the kids go to bed.”
He shook his head, a lock of his rust-colored hair falling out of place as he spoke to the countertop. “I love her. I always will, but I can’t forgive what she did. I just . . . can’t.”
I wished he’d try harder. I hated to see my brother so heartbroken. Molly too. I’d jump at the chance to get Jamie back, no matter what mistakes he might have made.
“So, karate?” Finn asked, changing subjects. He might disapprove of my choice to finish Jamie’s list, but he’d rather talk about it than his failed marriage.
“Karate. I made an appointment to try a class tonight.” It was probably a mistake, doing strenuous physical exercise the night before the grand opening, but I wanted to get it done before the restaurant opened and I got too busy—or chickened out.
“Then, I guess, tomorrow you’ll get to cross two things off the list. Opening this restaurant and going to a karate class.”
“Actually.” I held up a finger, then went to the register for my purse. I pulled out my oversized bag and rifled around until my fingers hit Jamie’s leather journal. “I’m going to cross off the restaurant one today.”
I hadn’t completed many items on Jamie’s list, but every time I did, waterworks followed. The restaurant’s opening tomorrow was going to be one of my proudest moments and I didn’t want it flooded with tears.
“Would you do it with me?” I asked.
He smiled. “You know I’ll always be here for whatever you need.”
I knew.
Finn had held me together these last five years. Without him, I don’t think I would have survived Jamie’s death.
“Okay.” I sucked in a shaky breath, then grabbed a pen from the jar by the register. Flipping to the thirtieth-birthday page, I carefully checked the little box in the upper right corner.
Jamie had given each birthday a page in the journal. He’d wanted some space to make notes about his experience or tape in pictures. He’d never get to fill in these pages, and even though I was doing his list, I couldn’t bring myself to do it either. So after I finished one of his items, I simply checked the box and ignored the lines that would always remain empty.
As expected, the moment I closed the journal, a sob escaped. Before the first tear fell, Finn had rounded the corner and pulled me into his arms.
I miss you, Jamie. I missed him so much it hurt. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t do his own list. It wasn’t fair that his life had been
cut short because I’d asked him to run a stupid errand. It wasn’t fair that the person responsible for his death was still living free.
It wasn’t fair.
The flood of emotion consumed me and I let it all go into my brother’s navy shirt.
“Please, Poppy,” Finn whispered into my hair. “Please think about stopping this list thing. I hate that it makes you cry.”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes, fighting with all my strength to stop crying. “I have to,” I hiccupped. “I have to do this. Even if it takes me years.”
Finn didn’t reply; he just squeezed me tighter.
We hugged each other for a few minutes until I got myself together and stepped back. Not wanting to see the empathy in his eyes, I looked around the restaurant. The restaurant I’d only been able to buy because of Jamie’s life insurance money.
“Do you think he’d have liked it?”
Finn threw his arm over my shoulders. “He’d have loved it. And he’d be so proud of you.”
“This was the one item on his list that wasn’t just for him.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. I think this was for him. Making your dreams come true was Jamie’s greatest joy.”
I smiled. Finn was right. Jamie would have been so excited about this place. Yes, it was my dream, but it would have been his too.
Wiping my eyes one last time, I put the journal away. “I’d better get my stuff done so I can get to that class.”
“Call me afterward if you need to. I’ll just be home. Alone.”
“Like I said, you could always go eat dinner with your family.” He shot me a glare and I held up my hands. “Just an idea.”
Finn kissed my cheek and took another long drink of his coffee. “I’m going to go.”
“But you’re coming by tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Proud of you, sis.”
I was proud of me too. “Thanks.”
We walked together to the door, then I locked it behind him before rushing back to the kitchen. I dove into my cooking, making a tray of quiches that would sit overnight in the refrigerator and bake fresh in the morning. When my watch dinged the minute after I’d slid the tray into the fridge, I took a deep breath.
Karate.
I was going to karate tonight. I had no desire to try martial arts, but I would. For Jamie.
So I hurried to the bathroom, trading my jeans and white top for black leggings and a maroon sports tank. I tied my long red hair into a ponytail that hung past my sports bra before stepping into my charcoal tennis shoes and heading out the back.
It didn’t take me long to drive my green sedan to the karate school. Bozeman was the fastest-growing town in Montana and it had changed a lot since I’d moved here for college, but it still didn’t take more than twenty minutes to get from one end to the other—especially in June, when college was out for the summer.
By the time I parked in the lot, my stomach was in a knot. With shaking hands, I got out of my car and went inside the gray brick building.
“Hi!” A blond teenager greeted me from behind the reception counter. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen and she had a black belt tied around her white uniform.
“Hi,” I breathed.
“Are you here to try a class?”
I nodded and found my voice. “Yes, I called earlier this week. I can’t remember who I talked to but he told me I could just come over tonight and give it a shot.”
“Awesome! Let me get you a waiver. One sec.” She disappeared into the office behind the reception counter.
I took the free moment to look around. Trophies filled the shelves behind the counter. Framed certificates written in both English and Japanese hung on the walls in neat columns. Pictures of happy students were scattered around the rest of the lobby.
Past the reception area was a wide platform filled with parents sitting on folding chairs. Proud moms and dads were facing a long glass window that overlooked a classroom of kids. Beyond the glass, little ones in white uniforms and yellow belts were practicing punches and kicks—some more coordinated than others but all quite adorable.
“Here you go.” The blond teenager returned with a small stack of papers and a pen.
“Thanks.” I got to work, filling out my name and signing the necessary waivers, then handed them back. “Do I need to, um, change?” I glanced down at my gym clothes, feeling out of place next to all the white uniforms.
“You’re fine for tonight. You can just wear that, and if you decide to sign up for more classes, we can get you a gi.” She tugged on the lapel of her uniform. “Let me give you a quick tour.”
I took a deep breath, smiling at some of the parents as they turned and noticed me. Then I met the girl on the other side of the reception counter and followed her through an archway to a waiting room. She walked straight past the open area and directly through the door marked Ladies.
“You can use any of the hooks and hangers. We don’t wear shoes in the dojo, so you can leave those in a cubby with your keys. There aren’t any lockers, as you can see,” she laughed, “but no one will steal anything from you. Not here.”
“Okay.” I toed off my shoes and put them in a free cubby with my car keys.
Damn it. I should have painted my toenails. The red I’d chosen weeks ago was now chipped and dull.
“I’m Olivia, by the way.” She leaned closer to whisper. “When we’re in here, you can just call me Olivia, but when we’re in the waiting area or dojo, you should always call me Olivia Sensei.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“It’ll just be a few more minutes until the kids’ class is done.” Olivia led me back out to a waiting area. “You can just hang out here and then we’ll get started.”
“Okay. Thank you again.”
She smiled and disappeared back to the reception area.
I stood quietly in the waiting room, trying to blend into the white walls as I peeked into the dojo.
The class was over and the kids were all lining up to bow to their teachers. Senseis. One little boy was wiggling his toes on the blue mats covering the floor. Two little girls were whispering and giggling. An instructor called for attention and the kids’ backs all snapped straight. Then they bent at the waist, bowing to the senseis and a row of mirrors spanning the back of the room.
The room erupted in laughter and cheers as the kids were dismissed from their line and funneled out the door. Most passed me without a glance as they went to find their parents or change in the locker rooms.
My nerves spiked as the kids cleared the exercise room, knowing it was almost time for me to go in there. Other adult students were coming in and out of the locker rooms, and I was now even more aware that I would be the only person tonight not wearing white.
I hated being new. Some people enjoyed the rush of the first day of school or a new job, but not me. I didn’t like the nervous energy in my fingers. And I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.
Just don’t fall on your face.
That was one of two goals for tonight: survive, and stay upright.
I smiled at another female student as she emerged from the locker room. She waved but joined a group of men huddled on the opposite wall.
Not wanting to eavesdrop on the adults, I studied the children as they buzzed around until a commotion sounded in the lobby.
Determined not to show fear to whoever came my way, I forced the corners of my mouth up. They fell when a man stepped into the waiting area.
A man I hadn’t seen in five years, one month and three days appeared in the room.
The cop who’d told me my husband had been murdered.
26th Birthday: Take a karate class
Cole
Poppy Maysen.
Holy fuck.
Poppy Maysen was standing in my dojo.
“Hi, Sensei.”
“Hey,” I replied automatically, turning from Poppy to acknowledge a student as he walked past.
It didn’t take long for my gaze to wander back to Poppy. She was standing frozen against the wall, staring at me like she’d seen a ghost.
How long had it been? Five years? The last time I’d seen her, she’d been asleep on her living room couch, trembling from the nightmare I’d delivered to her doorstep.
And now she was here, dressed in gym clothes and waiting to take a karate class. To take my karate class.
“Hey, Cole.” Danny, a teenaged black belt, slapped my arm as he walked by.
I was standing right in the way of people coming and going to the locker rooms, staring at Poppy like a fool. “Hi, Danny.”
I tore my eyes away from her again and shuffled aside. When I glanced back over, she hadn’t moved.
What was going on in her head? Was she about to bolt? My face had probably triggered an onslaught of bad memories. And me standing here, gawking at her, probably wasn’t helping.
Shit. I forced one foot in front of the other, giving her a slight nod as I disappeared into the men’s locker room. If she was still in the waiting room by the time I got out, I’d be shocked, but I’d say hello. Maybe a few minutes would give her—and me—a chance to get over the surprise of being in the same room once again.
“Hi, Cole Sensei.”
“Hey, boys.” I greeted a couple of the younger kids in the dressing room as they tied on their shoes. “Did you learn anything new today?”
The kids started yammering on about the new punches they’d learned in class tonight, though neither could remember the Japanese names. I tuned them out, dropping my duffel bag on a bench and raking a hand through my hair.
Poppy Maysen.
What had she been doing these last five years? What had become of her life? I hadn’t kept tabs on her after that awful night, but now I wished I had.
She was just as stunning now as she had been years ago.
Loose waves of long, ginger hair. Skin as flawless and creamy as melted ice cream. For a redhead, Poppy didn’t have the typical smattering of freckles—just a few on the bridge of her nose. And those cornflower-blue eyes. Still hauntingly beautiful, just like they’d been on her porch. I’d never forget the moment the fire behind them had smoldered out.
