“My dad’s in the hospital now. I didn’t even ask what happened. I’m so selfish.” The words didn’t sound real and Scott only paused his movements before carefully continuing folding shirts. Cady continued, lifting her hand and then weakly letting it fall back to slap her upper thigh dully. “I’m not sure what to say now to Bailey. I have to plan a funeral and I don’t even want to go.” She laughed, wiping at tears at the same time. “I’m not even a crier. This is ridiculous.”
Scott reached past her and grabbed the remote. “Here, let’s watch something stupid. Not even prepper worthy, yeah?” He flipped on Impractical Jokers and Cady leaned back beside him.
The end of the world commercials came on about the perfume. Cady looked away. That was one of the last things she’d listened to with Zach.
Scott’s voice cut through the end of the commercial music. “Do you ever wonder why they send samples in the mail and why they’re pushing this perfume so much?”
“Yeah, they’re sending the end of the world in the mail.” Cady snorted half-heartedly and then stopped as she jerked upright.
That phrase triggered a memory and she cocked her head to the side. She and Jackson had teased about that. One of their plans had been to send out devastation through the mail. It was a joke. At least Cady had thought of it as a joke.
They had come up with the wildest things, the most outrageous plans, and with their education and the way that they understood science and the world, anything was possible. It was easy for them to come up with plans like that.
All kinds of plans to destroy the world.
Just how far had Jackson taken it?
Chapter 13
Cady
Cady yawned and padded down the hallway to Bailey’s room. She hadn’t had one-on-one time with her daughter. She needed it and she hoped Bailey did, too. There’d been so much anger between them and disbelief at Zach’s death. She had a feeling they both needed someone who understood what was going on. At least, Cady did. She was taking the chance that Bailey felt the same way.
Margie and David had arrived two days before and Cady had to cope with the fact that she had to go to a funeral for her dead husband with a daughter who wouldn’t look her in the face. Not to mention that the end of the world was potentially upon them and Cady didn’t want to admit that she might be involved. Plus, something was wrong with her dad and no one would answer her questions about what had happened. Margie would only vaguely reference treatment he was getting for some blood issues. She wasn’t outright lying, but she wasn’t being forthcoming, either.
Cady wrapped her arms around her waist and paused at Bailey’s bedroom door. Dressed in her robe, Cady wasn’t ready to be formal yet. She had to dress in a black dress to send her husband off in a grieving widow style. Margie had declared that a dress was nonnegotiable, as if Cady were a child.
What was her mother hiding from her? Cady rubbed her forehead. She had to stop assuming every conspiracy she thought of was truth. Going to those prepper groups had her trained to think the worst thing was probably the fact. She didn’t need that.
No, what she needed was an answer from Jackson to her email that she’d sent him asking what was going on? He still hadn’t replied to her email about her husband’s death.
Maybe it was too much, too personal. Who knew.
Late night reading had taken up Cady’s increased waking hours. Insomnia was a cruel foe and Cady was sick of fighting it. Her reading material had been the collection of previous emails between her and Jackson. Searching for a kernel of information that would send her off her suspicions that Jackson was doing something on a huge scale.
If he was, she had to search for a way to convince him not to do it. She had a lot of confidence in herself, if she thought she could persuade that man to do anything other than what he had in his mind to do. That would have to be something she addressed tomorrow. Right now… she had to prepare her daughter for a funeral.
Lifting her hand, she rapped her knuckles on the door.
“Go away.” Bailey’s muffled response didn’t deter Cady.
Instead, she turned the doorknob and pushed the panel open. The room had a tossed about look to it that Cady was savvy enough to recognize as Bailey’s version of clean.
Leaning her hip against the doorjamb, Cady watched the bump in Bailey’s bed until Bailey threw back her covers. “What?” She didn’t look at Cady, just stared at the ceiling with a resigned expression on her face.
Sighing, Cady walked the rest of the way into her daughter’s room and perched on the edge of Bailey’s bed. The intricate design of knotty pine poles used for the bed frame had been made by Zach a few years back. He’d scoured the property for the perfect lodgepole pine, only happy once he’d found exactly what he’d looked for.
“Do you know my first thought in the accident?” Cady picked at a pil of the fuzzy blanket by the curve of Bailey’s knee. There was a soft cinnamon scent to the air from a collection of cups and tea bags on the windowsill. Cady ignored the transgression. Food and drink weren’t allowed upstairs. Bailey knew it, but it looked like she didn’t care. What was new?
“Were you glad he died?” The accusation and worry was rich in Bailey’s tone.
Cady’s eyes jerked to her daughter’s face. Bailey had finally turned her eyes toward her mother and tears streamed down her cheeks. Cady shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Her throat tightened and she blinked, trying to hold back her emotion. When she was able to speak, it was haltingly. “Actually, no. Not at all. As we were driving, he and I were talking and he was going to come home for work – like a nine-to-five style job and we were going to try harder on us, and on our family.”
“No.” Bailey’s face contorted into a painfilled rejection of denial.
Cady reached down and pulled her daughter into her arms. At first Bailey struggled against her mother’s hold, but in seconds she settled into her arms and accepted the comfort Cady needed to give. They both cried, their movements disjointed and choppy.
After enough time had passed, they separated, Cady embarrassed that she’d given over to her emotion when she should be stronger for Bailey.
Bailey wiped at her face. She plucked at a yarn tie on her quilt and glanced hesitatingly at Cady’s face. “What did you think?”
What had she thought? She’d come in there with a goal and then she’d been called on her past actions. Of course Cady wasn’t happy Zach was dead. In fact, that was the last emotion she’d feel for a while. Cady blinked back a new rush of tears and shook her head tightly. She rose from beside Bailey’s bed and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “Get ready, the funeral’s at ten.”
Funeral. How was she even talking about a funeral with her daughter? How was any of this even possible?
Slow steps carried her to the door where Bailey’s plaintive voice stopped her. “Mom?”
Cady knew what Bailey was asking of her. Turning back, Cady chewed on the soft inner flesh of her cheek. She rested her hand on the doorjamb and took a breath. “I thought, this is what the end of the world smells like.”
Understanding smoothed out the lines on Bailey’s face and she nodded. Relief expelled from her in a whoosh and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. Cady patted the wooden trim framing the doorway and headed toward her room. She didn’t have long to get her emotions under control and plans in place.
Jackson was up to something and Cady didn’t have time to roll over and wait. She had a husband to bury and a daughter to protect.
~~~
Cady’s dress still fit, albeit loosely and the neck was scratchy. She glanced at Bailey sitting beside her and the expression of boredom that Cady knew covered her sadness and loss.
Bailey had gotten that skill of diversion from her mother – a skill that had costed Cady many sleepless nights because Zach had thought she was mad at him. She had what people referred to as resting witch face and that irritated her. She wasn’t trying to be rude or mean. Especially u
nder the circumstances. She just didn’t have anything but a neutral expression that tended toward cranky.
But dang, people needed to leave her alone.
She didn’t even know half the people gathered on the pews in the church Scott belonged to. He’d demanded that Cady let him handle the funeral plans and claimed his church had funerals down pat.
If nothing else, barring all the annoying condolences given and well-wishers that wanted to offer her their sincere apologies, the funeral was nicer than anything she could’ve put together. White and yellow roses with baby breath and some kind of fern-like filler were all over the place in crystal vases.
The inside of the church was muted with its wooden benches and gusseted ceiling. The quiet murmurings of the growing crowd pressed in behind Cady and she scratched at the collar of her plain black dress. She hated to say the dress was from her partying days, but there it was.
The funeral passed in a blur with Margie sitting on one side of Cady holding her hand and Bailey on the other, sniffing. David got up and gave a nice eulogy at the pulpit only a few feet from the casket. The casket Bailey and Cady continued going out of their way not to look at.
Zach couldn’t be in the box and Cady didn’t want to even go up to look and make sure. She’d seen his body as he’d died beside her. She didn’t need the closure.
After David finished his speech, Bailey stood from her seat beside Cady and trudged toward the front.
Cady moved to stop her but Margie held her daughter back. She leaned in close to Cady’s ear and murmured, “She hasn’t seen him yet. You need to let her do this.”
Cady nodded tightly, but bit her lip. Clenching her fingers into the flesh above her knees, Cady grimaced when Bailey reached the lip of the casket and gazed inside.
David stood to the side, watching as Bailey absorbed the truth. For the first time, Cady could see the pallor in his skin and the way his suit hung from his frame. When had he aged?
Reaching inside, Bailey touched her dad. Cady couldn’t see her expression or see what she was doing, but the tilt to her daughter’s head and the sudden racking of her shoulders gave all the information she needed.
Half-rising, Cady swallowed, ready to run to Bailey’s rescue, but her father stepped in and wrapped his arm around his granddaughter. His own movements were slow but he didn’t have the normal aftereffects of a major health problem. If Margie hadn’t told Cady where they’d been, she’d never have known.
Now that Zach’s death was going to actually set in for the household, Cady had to figure out a way to get ready for that kind of loss. Unfortunately, even as a prepper, there was no way she had been able to be ready for her husband dying.
There just weren’t MREs for that kind of an incident.
Chapter 14
Cady
Bailey had refused to get in the car with her after the funeral, stating Cady was bad luck and she didn’t want to end up as ground meat like her dad. Ground meat. Well, that was insensitive and biting. If Zach had really looked like ground meat, Bailey would have had a worse reaction to seeing his body in the box, not to mention they wouldn’t have left it as open casket.
Cady drove home alone while her parents took Bailey for lunch.
She drove onto the driveway, stopping to open the gate, slipping on the icy snow. After picking herself up off the icy, muddy gravel, she plopped into the driver’s seat with a sigh. Cady sat in the car, staring at the windy drive ahead of her. After a minute, she pushed the gas pedal and finished the drive only to park in front of the house.
Her home sat empty, staring at her as if it too blamed her for the loss of one of the owners.
She climbed from the car and mounted the steps leading up to the wraparound porch. Her breath puffed out in front of her. The grain patters in the plastic siding stood out as she rose slowly to the deck. Every detail seemed to be in sharp relief.
A ding from her pocket brought her back into real time. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she blinked slowly at the screen. The notification let her know she had a new email.
There was only one email she was waiting for.
She pushed inside the front door, kicking off her black dress boots and nudging them into the closet. She clenched the device in her fist and wended her way to the living room where she flopped onto the couch. Glancing at the fireplace, she rolled her head to the side and back. She’d have to get up and put another log on, but right then she couldn’t focus on anything but the email.
Hopefully, Jackson had emailed her back with news that he’d only been speculating – he’d been wishing again. That was all she wanted to hear. Nothing else. She didn’t want to hear that she’d failed at one more thing.
Swiping open her screen, she blinked at the email with Jackson’s name. She’d known, deep in her gut that he was getting back to her finally.
Just like she knew, deep in her gut he wasn’t messing around anymore. Fingers shaking, Cady pressed the email that was just replying to hers.
Cady,
I know your name is Cady now because I looked you up. I promised I wouldn’t. I promised you I wouldn’t minimize our anonymity, but the news that you had a husband riddled me with more curiosity than I was prepared for.
You’re a woman. In all this time, I always thought you were a man. I’ve been in shock the last few days. I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner.
Here’s the thing… Our plans have kept me going over the last decade. I’ve been able to endure so much because of the steps I’ve put in place. Now I know that you’re alone and also a woman and there’s so much future that just opened to me. I hope you’ll consider me and my unspoken intentions once you’re over your grieving process.
When you find yourself alone in this world, maybe you’ll stick out the next few decades with me or maybe you’ll refuse my gift. I’m not sure, but I’ve never been more certain of sending it to you than I am right now.
Get ready. Check the mail. Your first letter should have arrived by now.
I’ll be able to get any emails for a little while longer, but I might not be able to reply. Just know, that I’m looking forward to any steps you take to connect. I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you soon see it as an opportunity for a real future and not as a point of depression for you. If all goes according to plan, you won’t be alone for long.
I’m so excited for our plans to fall into place. I know I’ve been cryptic. Here’s a small hint…
Smell like the end of the world.
Remember that line?
Thinking of you fondly.
Jackson
A pit of nausea spread outward from Cady’s gut. The end was coming and Jackson was orchestrating it.
Who would she tell and what did she do?
Chapter 15
Margie
“Cady, dear, we need to get going.” Margie approached Cady in the kitchen. Her daughter had always kept an organized home and Margie usually enjoyed visiting. The circumstances for this visit wore on her as she struggled to keep David’s diagnosis under wraps while being there for Cady.
Cady turned to her from her position at the sink. She looked back to the sink and rinsed another plate, placing it in the rack of the dishwasher. She closed the door and then faced Margie. “Are you sure, Mom?” She watched Margie like she suspected something with red-rimmed eyes.
Nodding softly, Margie reached up and tucked a stray chunk of hair behind Cady’s ear. She sighed, leaning her hip against the counter. “I’m so sorry for your loss. This has to be hard.” She wanted to stay there for her daughter, but she had to also protect Cady from the news about her father’s upcoming demise as well. Her daughter was strong, but Margie didn’t want to test her with such horrible news so soon after the onset of widowhood.
Cady shuffled to stand beside her mother, her robe tied at the side over flannel pajama pants and slippers. She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes and smudging the makeup she’d worn earlier that day to the funeral. Narrowing her eyes, she studied
Margie. “Hey, Mom? Can I ask you something?”
Raising her eyebrows, Margie smiled sweetly. She really just wanted to get on the road so she could drop one of the facades she wore. “Of course, Cady. What’s going on?”
She pressed her lips into a line and folded her arms across her waist. Tilting her head to the side, she considered her mom like she wasn’t sure if she should ask. The hesitancy sent a shiver of unrest through Margie who nodded in encouragement anyway.
Cady straightened and tapped the counter. “Okay, I just want to make sure I don’t upset you.” She swallowed, then blurted out her question and explanation. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me. You won’t tell me what happened at the hospital with Dad and I can’t get him to give me a straight answer either. He doesn’t look like he feels very well and I think it’s important to know just how bad off he is.”
Margie’s hackles raised and she lifted her chin. “Okay, so what is your question?”
Cady stared at Margie for a drawn-out moment, blinking slowly. “Mom, seriously. I have to ask you again? What is wrong with Dad? Why did he have to go to the hospital? You were late and I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Owning up to what was wrong with David would have been easier than lying, but for some reason, Margie couldn’t confess the truth behind her husband’s condition. She focused on a different part of Cady’s statements. “I said I was sorry for being late. We didn’t mean to make you feel like we weren’t here for you. We honestly did our best to get here as fast as we could.”
“Mom, you’re doing it again.” Cady slapped her hand on the counter, frustration ripe in her flushed face. “Tell me what is going on with Dad. Why won’t you tell me?” Her lower lip trembled as if she were close to tears.
The threat of crying strengthened Margie’s resolve not to divulge the circumstances around David’s health. She clenched her jaw and half-shrugged. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She smiled broadly to back up her claim.
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 1 - 3 Page 9
