Let's Do It

by Ann Christopher

  Swiping the napkin under her nose again, she looked to Edward for answers, as if he had any.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I never met the guy.”

  “You know,” Sofia said bitterly. “You just don’t want to tell me.”

  “Take it easy,” Reeve warned her. “Let’s not drive Edward away the first week.”

  Edward shot Reeve a grateful look, then hesitated. “For all I know, you’ll be back with the guy next week,” he told Sofia. “You’ll still be with him, I damn sure plan to still be here with Reeve, and the two of you will still be best friends, trying to double date and have barbecues and holidays together and whatnot. I don’t want you glaring at me every time you see me.”

  “Please.” Sofia’s expression was bleak but determined. “I need to know. You’ll be doing me a favor. Pretend I’m your sister. What would you tell me?”

  Edward’s eyes rolled closed as he scrunched up his face, rubbed his forehead and thought it over. When he opened his eyes again, he gave Reeve a questioning look.

  Knowing that Sofia could be like a dog with a bone until she got what she wanted, she nodded.

  “You’ve got to let him go,” he told Sofia quietly. “This guy is all about himself. He’ll never be who you need him to be.”

  Sofia’s tears fell fast and furious on her cheeks, and her chin and lower lip trembled. “But maybe he just needs time to figure it out—”

  “Figure what out? How great you are? Do you really want to be with a guy who has to be cajoled into being with you? Screw that! Why isn’t he doing everything he can to show you how much he loves you? Why isn’t he treating you like a queen?”

  “But he does love me!” Sofia cried. “He tells me all the time! It’s just that he’s had a rough life and his dad was never in the picture, so he doesn’t really—”

  “Don’t believe the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, Sofia,” Edward said. “Men say all kinds of stuff to get what they want.”

  Edward’s said all kinds of sweet stuff to you, hasn’t he, Reevie? But does he mean it? The Black whispered in her ear.

  Reeve’s chest constricted painfully.

  “What he’s doing is way more important,” Edward continued. “He’s not going to suddenly turn into the guy you need.”

  “So,” Sofia said. She frowned and spoke slowly, clearly not wanting to reach the only logical conclusion, no matter how obvious it was. “He doesn’t really love me?”

  “Sofia,” Edward said, and his voice was so kind and gentle that the sound of it nearly broke Reeve’s heart. “Look at you. A smart, beautiful woman crying on a Friday night because her man cheated on her and screwed up her finances. Why isn’t he doing everything he can to protect you from pain? If that’s his idea of love, why would you want it?”

  Sofia blinked.

  Then she surged to her feet with a sob, clamped a hand over her mouth and dashed out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  “Ah, shit,” Edward said, looking alarmed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “It’s okay,” Reeve assured him, standing. “She needed to hear it and it doesn’t count when it comes from me. I need to go after her.”

  “Go,” he said quickly.

  “Will you stick around?”

  “You know I will.”

  Reeve nodded, then started after Sofia.

  “Reeve?” Edward called after her.

  Reeve stopped and impatiently looked over her shoulder at him. He’d twisted in his chair and was watching her with eyes that were penetrating and concerned.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Oh, she’ll be fine, The Black said. You just leave her to me.

  “Of course,” Reeve lied, hurrying out of the kitchen.

  There was no sign of Sofia in either of the bedrooms or bathrooms, which left only the laundry room. That was where Reeve found her, slumped on the floor next to the dryer, sobbing her eyes out.

  “Oh, Sofia,” Reeve said, sitting beside her. “It’ll be okay.”

  Sofia looked up, her brown eyes glittering and hard as diamonds behind all the tears. “Never again, Reeve. I am never. Going through this. Again. Ever.”

  “Toby’s not worth it,” Reeve agreed.

  “No man’s worth it,” Sofia said, grabbing Reeve’s arm with sudden urgency and watching her closely to make sure she was paying attention. “Learn from my mistakes, Reevie. Don’t let Edward do this to you. I know he seems great right now, but he’s still a man.”

  Reeve recoiled, dread collecting over her scalp and crawling down her spine, as cold as dry ice.

  Inside her head, The Black snickered.

  “Edward isn’t Toby,” Reeve reminded her.

  Sofia gave her a pitying smile, as though she thought it was quaint but sad that anyone could be this naive. “Do you think Toby never looked at me the way Edward looks at you? Do you think he never called me a hundred times a day and talked about how much he wanted to marry me? Do you think we never had great sex?”

  Well, that sounds just like you and Edward, doesn’t it, Reevie? The Black said. So it’s only a matter of time before you end up a sniveling, heartbroken mess just like Sofia, isn’t it?

  Reeve averted her gaze and slowly pulled her arm free, not wanting Sofia to touch her or even look at her right now. “Don’t worry,” she said woodenly. “I can look out for myself.”

  And you’ve always got me, The Black added. I’ll always be right here with you.

  “I just—I know you think he’s perfect for you right now,” Sofia said, “but it’s the honeymoon period. And you’ll never find another man who loves you like Adam did. He was one of a kind.”

  With that, Adam edged out of a shadowy corner of her mind, and his face, which had grown fainter in the last several days, his features weaker, was suddenly all she could see. His lips were thinned, the line of his jaw harsh with hurt and unmistakable disappointment.

  His eyes were full of reproach and maybe a little spite, and his words were clear as a Sunday morning church bell even though his mouth never moved.

  You think you can leave me in a box and forget about me, Reeve? You think it’s that easy? Well, it’s not. Sorry.

  The Black took this opportunity to fold her into his embrace, which was the rough equivalent of being wrapped with a half-frozen wool blanket. Repressing a shiver, Reeve backed away from Sofia and stood, not wanting to be here with her, out in the kitchen with Edward or even inside her own skin.

  “I need to go,” she said with a vague gesture over her shoulder. “Edward’s...still here.”

  Sofia caught her hand before she could walk away and looked up at her with her tearstained face. “Can I stay here with you for the weekend? Just until Toby’s gone?”

  “Of course,” Reeve said automatically.

  Her feet were much heavier on the return trip to the kitchen, so it took her longer to get there. When she did, she found her housewarming gifts waiting neatly inside the door and Edward leaning against the counter, arms and ankles crossed, looking sober. When she checked at the sight of him, stopping several feet away, his features tightened even further, turning grim.

  “How’s Sofia?” he asked.

  Reeve shrugged. “Not good. She’ll be better once she gets it all out of her system. She wants to stay with me for the weekend.”

  Edward nodded. “She needs you right now.”

  Reeve nodded, thinking of all the times immediately after Adam’s death, when Sofia had scraped her up off the floor and gotten her through the long days and nights.

  “Yeah. We’ve always had each other’s backs.”

  “And how are you?” he asked.

  “Me? I’m fine,” Reeve lied again, even though she was fighting that chill to her skin and having a tough time meeting his gaze.

  “You’re not fine,” Edward said flatly. “I can look at your face and see you’re not fine. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I mean, you know, a lot’s going on this
week. A lot of turmoil. A lot to think about. That’s all. Nothing major.”

  “What’re you worried about?”

  “It’s no big deal, Edward. I just—sometimes I need a minute to process things. Then I talk about it.”

  “I like to talk about things up front. Maybe we could try that this time.”

  “Could we maybe talk tomorrow? Now’s not a good time for me.”

  This was true, even if it felt like a diversion. Sofia could walk back in at any second, for one thing. For another, Reeve was wrung out on drama exhaustion. But the most important thing was that she tended to curl up into the emotional fetal position and lick her wounds by herself when The Black’s shadow fell over her, the way it had right now. It felt safer when she was by herself, where no one else needed to know how destructive her thoughts were.

  “Great. Breakfast, then?”

  Even though she knew he was testing her, she couldn’t quite put her heart into coming up with the right answers. Not when she was suddenly petrified that the more time she spent with him, the more ammo she’d give him to use to break her heart one day.

  It was always better to keep the shields up, and she’d almost forgotten that with Edward.

  “I don’t know about breakfast. Can I call you tomorrow? Or maybe Sunday?”

  He studied her, nostrils flaring.

  “What?” she cried.

  “Cut the bullshit, Reeve.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This is exactly what I was afraid of. Against my better judgment, I try to talk Sofia down from the ledge, and now you’re looking at me funny, like you’re lumping me in with the jackass who ruined her life. That’s not me, Reeve. You know that’s not me.”

  Ah, but you don’t know that at all, Reeve, do you? asked The Black smugly.

  “I don’t think it’s you, no, but Sofia didn’t think Toby was this guy either, back in the day. Only time will tell.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” He strode over to her and took both her hands in his. “Time will tell. So let’s have breakfast in the morning, and then we can test out that kayak of yours. Ella’s with Amber all weekend. We can hang out and have adult fun. It’ll be great.”

  Reeve hesitated.

  The rational part of her wanted to, and God knew she had nothing else going on over the weekend. But his grip was too tight, his fingers too warm, his presence and intensity too overwhelming, his eyes too piercing.

  And her heart was frozen inside a block of ice.

  “I’ll call you,” she said, pulling her hands free.

  Edward backed up a step, as though he could feel the chill radiating out from her body, and for one awful second, he looked as though he hated her before his expression dissolved into stark fear.

  To his credit, he stood his ground and gentled his voice. “Don’t keep throwing up roadblocks where there shouldn’t be any. We were going to have dinner tonight. We were going to make love again, weren’t we?”

  She didn’t answer, but something inside her softened.

  “We can’t get to know each other if you keep pushing me away,” he continued, taking a step closer. “Let’s give this thing a real chance.”

  Reeve opened her mouth, hesitating because she knew he spoke sense even if he did scare her to death sometimes.

  Buzz.

  Startled, she looked around in time to see her cell phone light up and vibrate on the counter.

  “Reeve,” he said, pleading.

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  She finally snapped out of his spell. “I have to get that. It could be the hospital.”

  His face fell, but he nodded, turning away.

  She snatched up the phone without checking the display. “Hello?”

  “Reeve,” said a choked female voice. “It’s Alyssa.”

  “Alyssa!” Reeve wouldn’t have thought her day could go any further south, but her chest seized up with sudden fear. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Mama,” Alyssa said, sobbing. “The hospice nurse says her breathing’s changed and she’ll pass tonight. Can you come sit with me? I don’t think I can do this alone.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  Hanging up, she turned to Edward. “My mother-in-law’s in grave condition. I have to go.”

  He nodded grimly. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to drive you?”

  “Thanks, but no,” she said, grabbing her purse from its hook by the door. She could just imagine the horror if Mrs. B was lucid enough to realize some new man had brought her worthless daughter-in-law to her deathbed. “Can you tell Sofia I’m leaving, please?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Bye.”

  She hurried toward the front door, fishing her keys out of her purse.

  “Reeve,” he called.

  Without breaking stride, she glanced back at him. “Yes?”

  He held his hands out, palms up, his expression bleak. “When will I see you again?”

  She shrugged helplessly, with no emotional reserves to help herself at this moment, much less him.

  “I don’t know, Edward,” she said as she walked out.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  “Hi,” Reeve said a few minutes later, when the hospice nurse, a kindly looking older woman, opened the door of Mrs. B’s house for her. “I’m Reeve Banks. The daughter-in-law? Alyssa called me.”

  “Yes, she’s waiting for you,” the woman said, keeping her voice low. “Come in.”

  Reeve wasn’t sure she wanted to, but she did anyway.

  Dusk was falling outside, but it was already night inside the dark house, with all the shades pulled and only a couple of floor lamps, in opposite corners of the living room, to provide dim lighting. The sickly sweet smell of rot that she remembered so well from the last time had become a full-blown stench that easily overpowered the lingering smells of bleach and disinfectant. Oh, and there was a lit candle on the mantel, Reeve saw, but the scent of vanilla was no match for a cancer almost finished with its task of sucking the life out of its host.

  Reeve crossed the threshold and went into the living room while the nurse closed the door behind her.

  “The Lord will take her soon,” the nurse said. “She’s suffered about enough. Hear her breathing? The rattling? It won’t be long now. Oh, but you’re a doctor, Alyssa said. So you know.”

  Reeve did know. The circle of light from the nearest lamp hit the head of the bed, illuminating Mrs. B’s face, which was now a skull with a layer of loose brown skin covering it. Her sunken eyes were closed, her gaping mouth was covered by an oxygen mask, and her thin chest heaved and rattled its way through three breaths, then none for so many beats that Reeve stopped in her tracks, wondering if this very moment was her passing, before the erratic rhythm started up again.

  Once again, gospel music played in the background—Elvis Presley this time.

  Alyssa sat next to the bed, composed now, her eyes dry. When she looked up and saw Reeve, she reached out a hand to her and patted the empty chair next to hers. Reeve went and sat, pulling Alyssa into her arms and rocking and hugging her the way she’d done with Sofia a little while ago.

  When Alyssa pulled free again, Reeve stared at Mrs. B’s face, which still looked every bit as hard-angled and stern as it had during her healthier days, wondering what was happening to her in these last moments of her life.

  In medical school, Reeve had sat other vigils with the dying, and she’d never hesitated to touch the patients. To hold their hands. With Mrs. B, she didn’t dare. Comfort from Reeve was probably the last thing she’d ever want or accept, so Reeve kept her hands to herself.

  Mrs. B’s eyes began to move back and forth behind her lids, as though dreaming.

  Was she seeing Adam now? Her husband or parents? Had they all come to collect her?

  Or was there...nothing?

  A wave of loss surged up Reeve’s throat, balling into a knot that refused to be swallowed. This—tonight—was the end of her hopes for, what, exa
ctly, with Mrs. B? Forgiveness? Redemption? Peace? These last four years, she’d nursed the idea that someday, somehow, if they just spent a little time together and talked it over, Mrs. B would admit (realize?) that Reeve had not been a bad wife for putting her career before Adam’s desires for a child. That Reeve hadn’t hurt Adam as badly as she feared she had. That Reeve wasn’t a selfish woman, after all.

  None of that would ever happen now.

  Reeve had probably always known, on some level, that it never would, which meant she’d wasted years wanting the wrong thing. Put her hopes on the wrong horse.

  And now she had nothing to show for it but the same ambivalence she'd always felt. Maybe she was doomed to a lifetime of it.

  Mrs. B stirred, fretfully moving her hands; Reeve and Alyssa tensed, watching her.

  “No,” Mrs. B murmured, shaking her head, her thin voice muffled by the mask. Beneath the white sheet, her feet kicked feebly, and she moaned long and low, as though in pain. The hospice nurse hurried back in from the kitchen, where she'd apparently been getting a glass of water, and checked the IV pump.

  To hell with it, Reeve decided, taking Mrs. B’s hand and rubbing it between both of hers. It was cold. Stiff. Unresponsive.

  “It’s okay, Mama,” Reeve said. “Don’t worry. Everything’s okay.”

  Mrs. B settled down again. Her breath continued its slow rasps.

  After a few moments of stillness, Reeve glanced across the room, where one of her favorite framed pictures of Adam sat on the piano. It was the one with him leaning against the hood of his first car, a used Corolla that he’d loved and cared for as if it was a Bentley.