180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 1 - 3

by B. R. Paulson

  Cady shook her head as if her parents could see when she pressed her fingers to her mouth. Drawn out silence spoke more than if Cady had screamed into the phone.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Margie’s voice became stoic and hard. She would demand to know what was happening.

  All three sides of the call fell silent, the tension building as one side waited to hear what was going on while the other side struggled to find the words she didn’t want to say.

  She had to just blurt it out. Just get the words out. There was no other way to give news like that to anyone. Cady covered her eyes with her free hand and spoke with no emotion. “Zach is dead. We got in a car accident last night. I'm fine, I've been checked out. But he died…” She couldn’t say that he died right in front of her, or that she couldn’t figure out how the windshield wiper had broken off in his chest or that he never wore a seatbelt or… so many things. She just wanted to hide from the reality and was already regretting the call.

  Shocked silence filled the line. What did she expect them to say? We’re sorry? Her parents had known that Cady and Zach were having problems for a while, except no one would wish death on anyone.

  Instead of her mother’s voice, her father’s voice came through with real regret and sorry. “Honey, we're so sorry. Have you told Bailey yet? How did she take it?” The deep timbre of his voice was soothing and made her focus on doing rather than dwelling. He didn’t sound sick, in all honesty.

  Cady dropped her hand to her side, shaking her head while she stared at the ceiling so many feet above. “No. I haven't told anyone but you guys. I think I'm still waiting for it to set in.” She rolled to her hands and knees, rocking back and then using the toilet to help her stand. She had to move. Sudden restlessness filled her and she didn’t want to give in to wallowing. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.

  Her parents weren’t talkers either. They were doers and that was most likely why she’d called them. “We'll be there in a few hours. We’re dressed and packed, we just need to grab a few things and make some calls. See you in a few hours, honey. We love you.” Her dad’s voice was calm and engaged. He would make sure they were on the road soon.

  Cady’s mom’s silence spoke volumes. She wasn’t an emotional woman and if she didn’t have complete control of her emotions, she didn’t talk. Ever.

  They hung up and Cady had never realized how much she needed her parents before that moment.

  What was she going to do? What could she do? She had to get basic paperwork out of the way before true grief set in. She’d hang onto denial for as long as she could. Because what else could she be dealing with? She wasn’t mad yet and the four stages of grief had been shoved down her throat with all the memes on social media enough that she could probably pass for a counselor-in-training.

  Right now she had to be logical. Once Bailey got home and Cady had told her what had happened, there wouldn’t be any peace in the house for quite a while.

  What did the life insurance policy say? She clung to practicality with a death grip.

  She wasn't ready to face her emotions yet, because it didn’t matter what all the books and memes and self-help posts said. No one could tell her how she should be feeling right then. She wasn’t even sure how she should be feeling.

  In all honesty, she had never wanted a joint as badly as she did in that second since college. Unfortunately, she didn’t drink and Zach hadn’t had time to restock his beer since he’d been home. There was no alcohol in the house and she had no way to numb the pain. Sleeping pills would have to help her escape reality for a few hours.

  If she were the suicidal-type, she’d down the whole bottle. But that wasn’t her and leaving her daughter behind wasn’t an option.

  Chapter 9

  Margie

  Cady was Margie and David’s only child. Any heartbreak she endured, they seemed to feel a thousand times harder. But she was so strong and independent and they were never allowed to really know of any pain in her life.

  Margie rolled over after hanging up, studying the ceiling that was just starting to become visible in the slowly dawning sunlight. She blinked back tears. The problems Zach and Cady had over the years hadn’t been secret so much as not discussed openly. Cady wasn’t the type to share her problems. A fact that Margie had a hard time coping with over the years.

  David sighed and rolled to face her, pushing the corner of his pillow up under his cheek. “What do we do to help her?” He leaned on Margie, they all did. “I lied to her. We aren’t ready and we’re not headed out the door.” He reached up and rubbed at his grayish blue eyes. His skin was soft and paper thin since the chemo started a month ago, but it wasn’t helping and they all knew it.

  The doctors had pulled Margie aside and told her first that he only had a couple months left to live. She hadn’t told Cady. She’d barely acknowledged the truth to David. Cancer hid until it was too late. She used to be a nurse, in another life it seemed, and her pragmatism had stemmed from the demands of that field.

  Everyone leaned on her. David in the fear of the end of his life. Her sisters as they bickered over what to do with their parents’ lake property off Priest Lake. The small city council members of Bonner. Everyone needed something from her.

  Except Cady.

  Margie turned her head to face David, but stayed on her back. “It’s not a big deal. She’s dealing with her grief. She won’t even notice the time discrepancy.”

  “Are we still going to tell her?” David furrowed his brow. They’d planned the month-long trip with specific goals in mind. With Zach’s death, they had to reevaluate their plan to tell Cady and her family that Margie and David were going on a cruise to give David one last send off. He’d never been on one and he wanted to see Alaska before he died.

  Cady’s husband had just died and Margie’s husband was working on dying.

  “No. Not when we leave. Maybe when we get back. She’ll have time to recover a little bit from the shock of Zach’s…” Margie swallowed. She didn’t want to mention death, not when it was so close to reality for her and David. She shook her head the barest amount. David and Margie had agreed not to dwell on the topic of cancer. Margie offered a reassuring smile. “We finish packing and get down there. If he died last night, she’ll need help planning the funeral and getting the house in order. If we get there later tonight, she’ll have had time to talk to Bailey but not have to deal with the house being empty on the first night.” That was it. That was how she would help her daughter. She’d go for a few days and help with the set-up and the goodbyes.

  The plans Margie had made for David’s last trip included a stop in Enumclaw to see his sister before the cluster of cruises and travel started the following week. They had been biding their time until it was time to leave for Cady’s in a couple days.

  A stack of itineraries waited in a green folder by the door. It would be the last thing they grabbed before they locked up. The Mosses were notorious for being over-prepared and over-researched.

  David wiped at the moisture escaping his eyes. His skin was paler than normal. She’d noticed that while his normally fine and soft hair hadn’t fallen out from the short exposure to the cancer medications, it had become wiry and coarse, making it unmanageable and contributing to his frustrations at being sick.

  “Do you think she’s going to be okay?” Her ever-optimistic husband only showed his doubt to her and when he did, the doubt had a tendency to scare her more than any situation ever could. David hadn’t been afraid of the cancer, stating that sixty-nine was a fine age to get to and he didn’t want her to worry about him. He wasn’t worried about Margie. He’d agreed to another marriage, if she felt so inclined. His words had declared her to fine a catch at such a young age of only fifty-five. The fourteen years separating them had been scandalous when they’d gotten together, but never felt like more than a few days over the course of their life together.

  David nudged Margie with his knee. “Honey? Do you think Cady will be okay?”
>
  Margie pulled her thoughts from the morose direction she had allowed it to wander. If anyone would be fine, it’d be Cady. She was more logical and level-headed than anyone Margie had ever met – even herself. “I’m not worried about Cady. I’m worried that Bailey will take her grief out on her mom.”

  Studying David’s face, Margie smiled softly. She reached up, brushing her fingers softly down his cheek. “How are you feeling? Are you ready to get out of here? Go on an adventure?”

  He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. “With you, kid? Anywhere is fine with me.” They climbed from bed, ready to leave on their adventure, their last adventure together.

  If nothing, Cady deserved the chance to find someone understood her – before this great end of the world she was always talking about got them all.

  Chapter 10

  Cady

  Cady only had to turn in the police report and Zach’s death certificate and she would get the payout on the life insurance. Without his paycheck, their bills would quickly eat through their savings and any income she could come up with tutoring.

  Sitting at the computer, Cady’s heart was slightly mollified with the knowledge that her parents would come to help her. Of course they had to leave for their planned traveling but maybe they’d be able to stay until after the funeral.

  With nothing constant in her life, at least she had her parents who proved to be there for her whenever she needed them. Sadly, she wasn’t too proud to acknowledge that she didn’t ask them for support often enough. Maybe that would change. Maybe it wouldn’t.

  Right then, though, she needed them, and it seemed like everything would be okay as long as they were on their way. Cady could hold things together until they got there later that day.

  At that point, she would probably lose it.

  In the time that she’d taken to contact the insurance company and do her research, the sun had risen. Rays of optimistic sunlight reflected off the ice and snow and she blinked, looking away from the scene outside her office window. Where was her car… oh, it’d been towed away. There was no way she was going to get it back. It’d been totaled. She’d taken a cab home from the hospital.

  Redirecting her gaze back to the computer and her email inbox, Cady picked at the cuticle of her thumb with her forefinger nail.

  The unanswered email from Jackson caught her eye.

  Cady would never be able to fully disclose her emotions or her thoughts to her parents. Or to anyone. Not without any judgment. The only person she’d ever been able to be herself with – anonymously anyway – was Jackson. She didn’t want to be judged. She just wanted to confide. She just wanted to vent everything inside her onto the page for someone to read.

  Maybe her loss would rein in his plans – she had a sick feeling they weren’t altruistic or benevolent plans and she’d done well until that point at ignoring what he’d hinted at. Now was the time to reply. She had never needed to confide in anyone so badly.

  He was a steady friend, he was someone she could be anonymous with who she could pour her heart out to. Jackson wouldn't judge her. How many times had they talked about clearing up the global mess the world had become? He had taken her ramblings and not judged her. Of course, she didn't want to clean up the world. Not in the way they'd always joked about. Getting rid of everyone would save so much of the world and yet, where did it end? They couldn’t choose specific people to live or die, so they’d said it would have to be random – even if it meant they were included.

  Exhaustion pulled at her, but Cady had to unload what was in her heart. Maybe, if she could get what weighed on her into words and hit send, she would be able to sleep. At least for a little bit.

  Jackson,

  I don’t know how to say this because we’ve never talked about personal things before. But I realized I just needed to talk about what is happening – maybe to make it more real, maybe to help it register in my mind, I’m not sure.

  My husband just died. Last night. In a car accident. I don’t even want to read the news and see if I’m right.

  The questions from acquaintances will start once it gets out and I’ll be asked how I’m doing. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I can't tell if I'm happy or sad or in shock or mad.

  He died in my arms. No, wait, that’s a lie. He would’ve died in my arms, if I hadn’t been checking for some way to save him.

  Go ahead and ask. Yes, I feel guilty. I feel like it’s partly my fault. I was driving. The other driver was drunk, according to the police, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t have him wear his seatbelt. I didn’t sit beside him when I found him or pull him into my lap.

  Before he died, we’d been having problems. So many problems. None of our beliefs coincided and I’m not sure how we even made it this long.

  Can I be honest with you? I’m not sure how I feel about his death. I'm not sure how I feel about him. I'm not happy that he’s dead. But at the same time, and here is the shameful part – the part I can’t tell anyone, the part I’m not sure I’ll let you read – a huge weight has been taken off my shoulders and instead of distinct sadness, I’m more upset that I’m relieved.

  Does that make me a horrible person? Does that mean I deserve to die as well? All of those discussions we had, all of that… I’m no better than anyone else.

  If our plans were in place, I’d want to die with the rest of them.

  Thanks for being there for me.

  C. Moss

  Cady clicked send without reading it over. She didn’t want to read her words or acknowledge her rambling emotions. She wanted to avoid the reality that was beginning to crash in around her. Her guilt reared up and mingled with her grief.

  She hadn’t been honest with Jackson either. Because the real honest-to-goodness truth was, she didn’t care that she’d had problems previously with Zach. None of that mattered when he’d sat in the car beside her last night and promised to do better, promised their lives would be different. He’d given her hope for the first time in a long time and that was enough to erase everything else.

  The bravado in her letter to Jackson had been an attempt to convince herself that she wasn’t as torn up as she expected. She hadn’t written him to convince him… She’d written it to convince herself.

  And she’d never failed at anything so drastically.

  All of her hope had vanished at the site of the crash. She would never be able to look at a windshield wiper the same again.

  The tears began and there was nothing Cady could do to hold them in. She clenched her fists and pressed the flesh of her knuckles to her teeth. If she didn't stop crying, she would become dehydrated.

  Stumbling from the office chair, she braced herself on the walls and somehow climbed the stairs to her room. Staring at the bed with its walnut headboard and creamy duvet and sheets, Cady hiccupped, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  She glanced down, finally recognizing the brownish red spotting her shirt and pants as blood. Torn and jagged edges of her clothes revealed scratched skin. No way was she letting the dirty clothing into her clean bed.

  Shedding her clothes, she climbed into bed on his side and gripped his pillow with a ferocity she feared vocalizing. It didn't matter how upset with him she'd been over the last few years, the last few months, days and hours, he was her husband and she was going to miss him. The family unit was never going to be complete.

  Worse yet, Bailey was going to blame it all on Cady. His death would fracture their relationship more than anything else ever would have.

  Zach’s death would destroy so much more than just a life.

  There was no amount of prepping that could help that.

  Chapter 11

  Jackson

  Working could be tedious and Jackson couldn’t wait until next week when he walked out of that place, knowing they were all going to die a painful death. A death he instigated. That knowledge was the only thing keeping him from bringing a gun to work and shooting the lot of giggling
, gossiping, wasteful slobs.

  His personal email dinged on his phone and he stared at the sender’s name. C. Moss. An email from C. Moss finally? On a Saturday? The only reason Jackson was even at work was because they’d had a mandatory office meeting scheduled. The labs weren’t open on the weekends, so Jackson was stuck waiting in the employee lounge for the department heads to show up.

  Now, though, he had something to do. An email from C. Moss would sooth the frustration from the other idiots working there and distract him, if only temporarily, from the countdown to earthly destruction.

  Opening the email, Jackson crossed his ankle over his knee and settled back against the saggy cushions of the lounge couch. He lifted his gaze to peek over the edge of his phone before looking back to the screen. A trio was going on and on about some drunken exploit from the night before and Jackson was suddenly very grateful he usually worked in the labs.

  Flipping his attention back to the email, he absorbed the words C. Moss had sent, slowing down as he read deeper and deeper into the message.

  When he got to the bottom, he started the email again, reading it another three times before slowly lowering the phone to his lap. He stared into space, not really seeing the weak attempts at office morale in the brightly colored fliers and the crusty donuts beside the coffee machine on the counter beside the fridge.

  He forgot where he was.

  C. Moss was a woman? She’d been married? She had never said anything. How weird to refer to her as a she. He’d never considered her as anything other than a male.

  In all that time, he had never guessed. He'd always gone over how smart she was and how similar their mindset was. She'd always been so calm in her arguments and her sarcasm had been clear sometimes and hazy in others. He had actually just assumed she was a man.