Forever

by Lewis, Linda Cassidy

  Twenty minutes later, Tom walked in, poured himself a cup of coffee, and grabbed the sports section.

  Fear told her Tom would have read the paper while he ate—if he’d been eating alone. She pushed that doubt away. She needed him too much. I can’t go through this alone.

  “Didn’t you read that over breakfast?”

  “Oh … yeah.” With a quick glance, he laid the paper aside. “I couldn’t remember one of the scores.”

  She looked down at her coffee cup to avoid meeting his eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No.” Until the danger passed, she kept her eyes on her cup to hide the tears that threatened to spill. “Lindsay and I are going shopping after she gets off work. We need to pick up a few things for vacation, and we’ll eat dinner while we’re out. I don’t suppose you’d like to come along.”

  Tom grinned and shook his head. “Not hardly.”

  Julie wondered if Tom knew she fell in love with him all over again every time he flashed that grin. “What will you do this evening?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll pick up a pizza or Chinese. There’s a Reds game on. But on the phone, you said you needed me to do something?”

  I need you to stay with me, Tom. “Yes. Could you check the upstairs hall light? Last night, when I got up to go to the bathroom, it was turned on. And Lindsay swears it was off when she went to bed. That’s the second time it’s happened.”

  “Sure, babe, no problem. I’ll do that tonight.”

  *

  Tom reclined in his chair with the Reds game on TV, a cold beer in his hand, and his dog lying at his side. He would have preferred to have a cigarette in his other hand, but when they moved into this house, he’d promised Julie he would only smoke outside. A small price to pay for all the times he’d sat here thinking what a lucky man he was.

  “Why don’t I feel lucky anymore? Tell me that, boy.”

  Alert and ready to help in any way, Max got to his feet and stood at attention.

  Tom laughed. “You’re a good dog. Semper fidelis—”

  There’s your answer, Old Man.

  He’d gone from lucky to lousy simply because he was unfaithful. He’d never meant to be. But he was. And done is done. He couldn’t change it back.

  “Never a good time machine around when you need one,” he told Max as he patted the dog’s rump, signaling him at ease. There was no way Tom could undo what he’d done, but he could keep from doing it again. He could make damned sure he never again felt like shit, answering a phone call from his wife while his girlfriend made herself scarce.

  “Hell yeah, Tom, you disgusting jerk. Think of yourself first.” His first thought should be about Julie’s feelings. And then, if had the guts, he should think about what he was doing to poor Annie, whose only break in life so far seemed to be that her asshole of a husband had neglected to cheat her out of his life insurance money.

  He slammed the footrest down, and hunched forward in his chair. While he ran his free hand through his hair, he studied the area rug under his feet. Julie loved the geometric design in shades of rust and teal, and—let’s face it—he didn’t hate her choice. He’d bought this house for her, and he’d burst with joy and pride watching her turn it into the home of her heart’s desire.

  “It stops right here, right now, you sonofabitch!”

  The dog jumped up, alerted by the anger in Tom’s voice. His eyes swept the room, looking for the threat, but seeing no danger, he questioned his owner with a look. Tom sat his beer on the coffee table, and leaned forward to give the dog a quick rubdown.

  “From now on, Max ol’ boy, you’re going to be the only dog around here.”

  While he took a cigarette break on the patio during the seventh-inning stretch, he remembered the light switch Julie wanted him to look at. He flicked the switch at the bottom of the stairs a few times and then did the same to the one at the top of the stairs. Fearing the June light wouldn’t penetrate the hall enough to see well if he waited till the game ended, he turned up the TV volume and went to the garage for his ladder. He examined the light fixture. When he tapped the bulb it flickered. He tapped it harder and it went dark. A few seconds later, it lit again on its own. He was reaching out to unscrew it, when he remembered the hall light in the cabin last Saturday night.

  Remembering how terrified he’d been, he grimaced and shook his head. “A damned faulty light bulb. I’ll bet that’s all it was.”

  *

  Annie barely had a chance to catch her breath. It seemed everyone in town had decided to see a movie tonight, and they all stopped at the cafe either before or after the showings. She wasn’t complaining, staying busy had kept her mind off Tom. Almost. Now, the crowds had dwindled, so she made work straightening up.

  “We have a mutual friend.”

  Annie was checking stock under the counter, and looked up to see a middle-aged man smiling at her. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, we have a mutual friend.”

  She slid the package of 12-ounce cups back onto the shelf and stood. The man was completely bald, pink-faced, and had a smile that engaged his lips but not his eyes. He reminded her of a snake.

  “I’m Bond … Eddie Bond,” he said with a wink, extending his right hand.

  She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the corny joke. After shaking his hand, she suppressed the urge to wipe her palm on the towel under the counter. He had the coldest, clammiest hands she’d ever touched.

  “Are you sure you know me?” she asked.

  “Why, of course I do.” He looked around and then leaned closer. “You’re Tom’s girlfriend.”

  Her mouth went so dry she had to take a sip of water before she could speak. “He told you about me?”

  Eddie chuckled, but the sound was no warmer than his hands. It was hard to believe this man and Tom were friends.

  “I was with Tom the night you two met. Obviously, you had eyes only for him.” He gave her a little pout.

  A wave of revulsion swept over her, leaving her a little dizzy. An invisible finger pressed at the precise spot where her spine and skull met. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, but the sensation remained. The man looked intently at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You seemed faint for a moment.”

  “I’m fine now.” She was surprised to realize that was true. Now, she felt terrific. “But I’m sorry, I don’t recall seeing you. That was a strange night.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He motioned to an empty table. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.” She smiled as she walked from behind the counter to sit opposite him. She was touched that Tom had confided his love for her to his friend.

  “I hope you’ll keep what I’m going to say in confidence,” he said. “Tom would kill me, if he knew I was here.”

  He smiled again, as warmly as anyone could, and she wondered why she’d ever thought otherwise. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he certainly was charming.

  “I won’t breathe a word.” She pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Tom is extremely conflicted,” he began. “He’s a devoted family man, partly because he grew up in an unhappy home. I think he’d rather lose his right arm than break up his happy home—or what he thinks is a happy home.”

  “I had a feeling it wasn’t.”

  Eddie sighed. “It hasn’t been for some time now, but Tom refuses to see that. You know, I think he takes on too much responsibility. If things aren’t going well, he always blames himself.” A look of sorrow crossed Eddie’s face. “It’s no one’s fault, really. These things happen. He and Julie just grew apart. And now …”

  Annie’s heart sped up. He’s going to blame me for causing trouble for Tom. He’s going to yell at me, and order me to stay away from him. She shifted her gaze, afraid to look him in the eye.

  He leaned closer, confiding in her, forcing her to face him. “Now that Julie and her friend Patricia have become lovers …” His eyes widened as his
voice trailed off.

  “Lovers?” Annie was so surprised she spoke the word as though she’d never heard it before.

  He nodded solemnly. “They’ve been at it for nearly a year. Surely, Tom knows there’s something going on, but he won’t face it.” Eddie sighed again. “Well … I thought you should know this because I know Tom well enough to predict that—out of needless guilt—he’s going to try to break it off with you. I wanted to prepare you for that. But, please, don’t give up on him. I think Julie and Patricia are about to come out of the closet, as they say, and when that happens, Tom will be devastated. He’ll need you more than ever.”

  “I don’t know …”

  Eddie held his hand up. “Now now. I’m sure you can imagine what a blow to a man’s ego it would be to find out your wife has become a lesbian. Don’t take this in the wrong way, Annie, but I can tell that you’re a woman who knows how to make a man feel like a man. You’re exactly what Tom needs.” He took her hand in his. “Promise me, you’ll stick by him, Annie. I’d appreciate that more than you know.”

  Almost like magic, the touch of his hand stilled her fears, cleared her mind, and she knew she had the strength to face what was coming. He squeezed her hand and she returned the gesture, sealing their bargain.

  “I’ll be there for him,” she said, “I love him.”

  “I know you do,” he said. “I know you do.”

  They stood. Eddie placed a friendly peck just in front of her ear, and then he was gone. Annie finished cleaning up the tables and stepped behind the counter seconds before the last of the evening’s customers straggled over.

  Frequently, throughout the rest of her shift, she rubbed at the persistent cold spot by her ear.

  16

  June 16

  Annie studied her eyes in the bathroom mirror. Her eyelids, puffy with fluid, looked like tiny flesh-colored water balloons. They always did, the morning after she cried herself to sleep.

  “That’s twice,” she said. Twice she’d fallen asleep crying over Tom, but she wouldn’t let it happen a third time. After Gary’s death, she’d promised herself that never again would a man make her cry like he had. Tom had promised to call her, but she’d waited in vain. The only voice she heard was her own, telling her none of the wonderful things she hoped for were going to happen. Tom did not love her.

  “You’re too stupid to live,” she said to her reflection. She soaked a washcloth in cold water and held it against her closed eyes. Depression clung to her like wet velvet, suffocating her. The pressure of her fingertips against her eyes caused lights and shadows to shift behind her closed lids. As if she were reading tea leaves in the bottom of a cup, Annie searched them for a sign to give her hope. There was none.

  A distinct nudge, as if something had worked under her skull to probe at her brain, jerked her back to the reality of the bathroom. She lost her grip on the washcloth. Her eyes flew open and focused on the mirror. She gasped.

  The face reflected there was not her own.

  It’s Maggie.

  Fear slipped away replaced by a sense of familiarity. Annie had seen her only briefly in the vision at the psychic’s, and Maggie had been in extreme distress, her features distorted. Annie examined the mirrored girl closer—and girl she was, no more than sixteen. She had abundant auburn hair, and eyes the same shade of green as her own, though rounder in shape. Except for slight differences, she could be looking at Kate. But the sadness in Maggie’s eyes was heart wrenching. Annie blinked and in that millisecond, her own face reappeared in the mirror.

  Her hands ached. She looked down and saw she was gripping the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles shown white. Only the creases retained their blood color, and for one moment, she had the surreal thought that her bones were made of striped peppermint candy. Trembling, she backed away from the sink and into her room. When her calves brushed against the bed, her bones seemed to dissolve as if they truly were made of sugar. She sank to the mattress.

  Like excited schoolchildren raising their hands, a hundred thoughts each vied for first consideration. One thought shouted above the others. What if the psychic was wrong? What if Kate, not she, was the reincarnation of Maggie? Following that, came a crushing second thought. What if Kate was also the one meant to be with Tom?

  In despair, Annie’s chin dropped toward her chest. But almost instantly, her head bobbed up as if it were a Magic Eight Ball summoning a brighter thought this time.

  If all this is about Kate, then why am I the one having the visions?

  With the logic of that thought, Annie railed against the devastation she would feel at seeing Tom with her sister. No matter what she saw in the mirror, no matter that he was married to someone else, she had to believe she was destined to be with him.

  Annie closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. Her mind raced to sort and file the implications of what had just happened to her. Slowly, a smile bloomed on her face. Maggie had appeared to her. Not Kate. And she believed that Maggie would make everything clear; tell the whole story to her, if she would be quiet and listen. Maybe Maggie could even tell her how to persuade Tom to accept his fate too.

  Everything was going to work out fine.

  *

  Confused and humiliated, Tom stood in the mobile office trying to rationalize what he could not explain. He’d just discovered the Phase Two framing crew had been waiting since Monday for him to inspect the backfill and give the go ahead.

  “Goddammit, Dean,” he yelled at the subcontractor, “why the hell did you let your crew sit around on their asses for two days instead of coming in here to get me?”

  “I caught up with you on your rounds Monday morning and asked for the inspection. You said you’d get back to me. Remember? Frankly, it felt like you gave me the brush off.” Dean was a big man, with a full face, creased as much from his hearty laughter as it was the sun. But right now, he was livid and his words were clipped.

  Tom felt himself blanch, and it irked him to see that it gave the man before him a measure of satisfaction. “I’ll be right there,” he said through clenched teeth.

  No, he didn’t remember that conversation on Monday—the morning fucking Eddie showed up. With a shock, Tom realized he had little recollection of what happened after that. Evidently, his mind must have still been on that bizarre visit and not on his work when he talked to Dean. He swallowed hard as he headed out for the belated inspection. Not once in nearly thirty years had he been so lax on the job.

  Before he walked twenty feet from the trailer, Tom’s assistant caught up with him. “Hey, Tom, what’s with the painting crew? They were supposed to start on the Phase One interiors today, but they haven’t shown.”

  Jeezus. “Uh … yeah, there was a scheduling problem, Steve.”

  “You mean they’ll be here later today. Tomorrow? What?”

  Tom nearly choked. The lump in his throat sure as hell felt like swallowed pride.

  “No. Thing is, I forgot to schedule them at all. I’ll get right on it.”

  As Steve stared at him in disbelief, Tom slunk away. There was no one to pass the buck to. He was the boss. Everything that got done here—or didn’t—was his responsibility. If he didn’t focus his attention on work again, his reputation would be shot to hell.

  It’s stress.

  He must have suffered some kind of stress episode this past week. He’d done some crazy stuff. Maybe even hallucinated. But that was over. He was back to normal. Chastened but normal.

  When he returned to the office, Bonnie handed him a message from Julie asking him to come straight home for dinner tonight. And he would. Tonight and every night. He’d go home to his wife where he belonged.

  Tom threw himself into his work, wincing every time he came across more evidence of his neglect. He was just beginning to think he might be able to get the job back on schedule before the end of the week when the first clap of thunder sounded. Within seconds, the rain poured down in sheets. Within ten minutes, the site transformed into one massive
mud puddle. His men shut down for the day and left, but he stayed working in the office until Bonnie opened his door and told him the weather service had issued a tornado warning. That put a cap on the miserable day. Knowing that an office trailer in an open field was an easy target for such a storm, they turned off the computers and lights, locked up, and tore out of there.

  *

  Tom arrived home not knowing if he should expect some sort of argument or, at least, serious discussion with Julie. He took off his muddy boots in the garage, planning to hose them off later. As he reached for the knob of the door into the kitchen, Lindsay flung it open from the other side. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting hit. Before the first syllable of greeting passed the tip of his tongue, she stepped into the garage and shut the door behind her. From the look on her face, he guessed he was about to have a discussion with his daughter as well.

  Lindsay took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and plunged in. “I need to talk to you, Dad.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It’s very serious.” She’d fixed him with a stare but now glanced away for a moment. “I think there’s something wrong with you.”

  There was more than one thing wrong with him, but he had no idea which of those his loving child had discovered. “And what is that?”

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  “Lindsay, you said there’s something wrong with me.”

  “I know. So what is it?”

  Tom felt sure this conversation would soon make sense to neither of them, so he tried a different approach. “Lindsay, what is it I’ve done, or not done, to make you think there’s something wrong?”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward as she ticked off the list on her fingers. “Well, you seem different, not all the time, but sometimes. And it’s like Max doesn’t even recognize you half the time, which is so weird. And you used to stay home more. And we used to talk. And I think you’re drinking a lot more too.” She ended by giving him a direct look that told him he’d better not try to deny it.