by J A Stone
Even in the dim moonlight, Corey could see that Tripp was stunned.
“Can I at least kiss you good-bye? You know . . . like for old times’ sake?” Tripp asked.
“No,” Corey answered firmly.
Tripp nodded and headed down the stairs. Corey turned and started walking back up. She’d water the ficus tree later. Right then, she didn’t want Tripp to see how her eyes were suddenly teary, and for no good reason that she could tell.
CHAPTER 7
Marcy was delivered from camp the next day around lunchtime. Diane had taken her daughter and her best friend, Beth, to camp; Beth’s mother, Carol, had been responsible for picking them up. Diane had invited Carol and Beth to stay at the beach for a few days, and Corey was glad for the distractions that the two thirteen-year-old girls provided. From the moment they’d walked through the door, it had been nonstop action. “Let’s go swimming, Aunt Corey. Let’s play cards.” Also, Corey was glad that Diane finally had some other people around to nurture. She loved her sister, but her constant hovering was beginning to drive Corey crazy.
Jack came home from fishing late that afternoon with a slightly sunburned face and an ice chest full of red snappers. He reported that, unfortunately, Tripp had gone back to Dothan. “Probably a hot date with Lucy,” he said, winking at Corey. She works weekends, Corey wanted to remind him.
The next week was as active for Corey as the first week had been restful. Jack, who was a pharmacist, had arranged to take a few days off from work. On Monday, they took the boat out to Hurricane Cut, an area that only the locals knew about. They picnicked all day, floated for hours in the pristine water of their own private paradise, and hunted for seashells on a beach that appeared untouched by human hands. On Tuesday, they took the boat up the Intracoastal Waterway to Apalachicola and ate oysters at a pier-side restaurant that advertised their oysters had been swimming in the bay just hours earlier. Unfortunately, the memory of the incredible fried oysters Corey had eaten with Tripp made these pale in comparison.
Much to Corey’s surprise, she discovered she was still as agile as a cat on the boat. Skills she hadn’t used since before the death of her dad came back to her the first time she tried. She automatically climbed out on the front of the boat to keep it from hitting the dock’s piling without anyone asking her to do so. She grabbed the hook and brought in the fish Beth had floundering on the side of the boat. And when Jack asked her to drive the boat while he worked on getting a hook out of a fish, it seemed like days instead of years since she’d last done so. It was as if her body remembered the familiar warmth and smells and rocking of the boat, and she acted automatically, without any need for conscious thought.
And the beach house, brimming over with people and echoing with happy noises, seemed just right. Corey was sincerely sad when it was time for Carol and Beth to leave. She, Diane, and Marcy spent two more days just relaxing on the beach, and then it was time for Corey to start thinking about heading back to Atlanta. Corey had to admit she felt a certain excitement about getting back to her life. Her office had managed not to contact her during the first week. But during the second week, she’d had to handle several emergencies using the e-mail on her phone. Corey supposed it felt good to be needed.
On Friday night, Corey loaded her car so that she could leave early the next morning. She glanced occasionally over at the MacKinnon house as she went up and down the stairs. By ten, when she had yet to see a light on in the house, she realized Tripp wasn’t coming for the weekend. She felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. It was probably better this way.
“It’s hard to believe the changes in you in just two weeks,” Diane said as Corey came up from taking the last load to her car. Corey knew that Diane was right; she had changed both externally and internally. Her hair was now streaked with blonde from the sun, and her body glowed with a soft golden tan. But more important, Corey had rediscovered how to find pleasure in simple things like eating a good meal or feeling the sun on her skin.
“Don’t forget your tree,” Diane continued. “Put it someplace where it can get a lot of indirect light, and don’t forget to water it every day if it’s outside, and once a week if inside. A few more weeks here and it wouldn’t fit in your car.”
“If I kill it now, I’m going to feel really bad. Maybe I should leave it with you?” Corey offered.
“Not on your life. Just give it what it needs: sun, water . . . and maybe talk to it now and then.”
“Talk to it? You really are an earth mother, aren’t you?” Corey laughed.
“You need to take care of yourself, too, okay? A little sunshine every day wouldn’t hurt you either. And promise me that you aren’t going to wait three or four years before you come back to the beach again.”
“I promise,” Corey said. Once again, tears filled her eyes unexpectedly. “I’m going to bed now. Love you.”
For two weeks, Corey had been able to sleep anytime she put her head down. Now, on this night, the night before she was to leave, she couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, she got up at sunrise, left a note for Diane and Jack, and headed out. The MacKinnon house looked sad all shuttered up. Or maybe Corey just felt sad looking at the MacKinnon house without Tripp in it. However, the long drive reaffirmed everything that Corey had said to Tripp. The distance between Atlanta and Dothan was too far to try to build a relationship with him, even without a Lucy in the picture.
Corey looked at her condo when she arrived home as if she were seeing it for the first time. It was dreary and full of wallpaper and colors she didn’t like. She hated red, and the kitchen had red cabinets and beige wallpaper with red cherries on it. One of the bathrooms was wallpapered in floral patterns of pink, and the other in floral patterns of baby blue. And it was no wonder that the ficus had been dying; she rarely remembered to open the heavy damask curtains in the great room to let in any light. Her condo would be a depressing place for anyone to live regardless of her mental state.
Renovating the condo had never crossed her mind after Luke died. When faced with the enormity of his death, did it really matter what color the walls were? Also, Luke had been the one with all the plans. She really hadn’t known what she wanted to do. Now, Corey suddenly felt motivated to get started on renovating the condo as soon as possible. She had money from both her parents’ and Luke’s life insurance. All she needed was a plan. Corey decided to find a decorator and get started on creating a home where she might actually want to live. Hopefully, the decorating firm wouldn’t be associated with Martha Anne, Tripp’s ex-wife.
CHAPTER 8
On Monday morning, Corey walked into the sprawling lobby of the law offices of Landon, Crane, and Forrester and went straight back to Larry’s office. “Hi, Barbara. Can I stick my head in for just a moment?”
“Certainly, Ms. Bennett. Did you have a nice vacation?” Barbara was actually very nice when she wasn’t acting as Larry’s policewoman.
“It was perfect.”
Larry was drinking a cup of coffee while looking over some papers on his desk. “Hey, Larry, I’m back.” Corey walked over to his desk and laid a perfectly shaped scallop shell on top of his papers.
Larry looked from the shell up to Corey, and his eyes widened. “I don’t know where you went, but given what it’s done for you, I think I’m planning my next vacation there.”
Corey laughed. “I just wanted to thank you. I really did need a vacation.”
“Well, it’s nice to see the girl, I mean, woman, I used to know,” Larry said. “Now, get back to work and make up for all those billable hours you missed during the past two weeks.”
At lunchtime a couple of days later, Corey walked downstairs to the first floor and joined the fitness center. She knew her condo wasn’t the only thing that needed some work done on it. It was time she started taking better care of herself, and exercising was an important part of that process. Corey knew that running was no longer a viable option for her everyday exercise. She would never
go running alone in the dark around her neighborhood. The fitness club was a good alternative. Corey spotted a couple of guys who worked for her firm. How did they find time to work out on their lunch hours?
Thinking about the guys at the health club, she decided at five thirty to pack up a couple of documents in her briefcase and head for home. Since somehow the male associates managed to get their work done without living at the office, Corey decided she was no longer staying late unless there was a bona fide emergency. Besides, she was having dinner that night with Romeo and Gary. She’d offered to take them out as a thank-you for getting her mail. Instead, they had insisted she eat with them.
“I’m the best chef in Atlanta, darling,” Gary said while batting his long, dark eyelashes at her with fake modesty. “Why waste your money? But do bring lots of good wine.” Remembering that, Corey stopped on the way home and bought a case of the couple’s favorite wine.
Gary’s dinner was as good as advertised. The stuffed manicotti was probably the best that Corey had ever put in her mouth. Instead of comparing this dinner with other evenings that she and Luke had spent with them, she just focused on enjoying her dinner that night, and for once she didn’t feel like a third wheel while eating with the couple. She laughed at their expressions when she described Mexico Beach.
“Is it like Destin? We’ve been to Destin before.” Romeo arched one eyebrow at her questioningly.
“Not quite,” Corey said. “Mexico Beach has one grocery store, a fishing marina, a gas station, and an ice-cream shack. For everything else, you have to drive fifteen minutes to Port Saint Joe, or forty-five minutes to Panama City.”
“That sounds dreadful. Isn’t it boring there?” Gary asked earnestly.
Corey tried to think whether she had ever been bored at the beach. “Nope,” she said. “Doing nothing there is more fun than doing nothing here. I don’t know why.”
“But I want to do stuff when I go on vacation—like clubbing, shopping, and eating in good restaurants,” Romeo said dramatically.
“Simple solution, then—don’t go there,” Corey said.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Gary promised.
Corey’s life was suddenly very full. Work was hectic after being on vacation, but not so hectic that she didn’t make it to the gym at least three mornings a week before work. She visited with her mother-in-law on Sunday afternoons, and in between everything else, there was now Kathryn, the interior designer, who practically lived with her. Kathryn had been the second interior designer Corey interviewed. She was about Corey’s age, and they had clicked so well that Corey had hired her on the spot.
Kathryn had a plan for practically every room in the condo. New skylights were to be installed in her bathroom and in the great room to brighten up the place. The kitchen cabinets and walls were to be painted a glossy white, and new black-granite countertops would be installed. The master bath and a small extra room next to it would be combined and turned into a master suite with a spa tub and walk-in closet. New hardwood floors would replace the carpet, and there would not be a hint of wallpaper anywhere in sight. Corey thought it all sounded heavenly.
As Labor Day approached, and the one-year anniversary of Luke’s death passed, Corey felt a semblance of normalcy again in her life. Not that she didn’t still miss Luke, because, of course, she did. However, the overwhelming sadness she’d felt for so long seemed gone. Now the sadness took her by surprise in unguarded moments, like when one of Luke’s favorite songs came on the radio, or when Nancy made a facial expression that seemed so very Luke-like. And if Corey still thought about her night with Tripp occasionally, she found more and more that it seemed like a nice dream rather than a part of her reality. Corey finally felt ready to move forward with her life.
On a bright morning in early September, the day that demolition was to start for the master bathroom, Corey woke up nauseated and then threw up. She was still holding her head over the toilet when Kathryn arrived, using her front-door key to let herself in. Kathryn, a petite five-foot elfin brunette, came breezing into the bedroom announcing her presence by yelling loudly, “He . . . lll . . . ooo!” She stopped abruptly at the bathroom door.
“Big night last night?” Kathryn asked drily.
“Must be a stomach bug,” Corey groaned. “Don’t get too close. Do we have to start the demolition today? I kind of need my bathroom right now.”
“You need crackers and ginger ale,” Kathryn said brightly. “Here, let me help you to the guest bathroom, and then I’ll go get some for you. We can’t hold up the subcontractors.”
Much to Corey’s relief, after a few crackers and a can of ginger ale, she felt much better. She got up, dressed for work, and arrived at her office at a respectable time.
After the same thing happened several days in a row, Corey began to worry that maybe something was seriously wrong with her. She’d seen firsthand how quickly a medical anomaly could mushroom into a medical crisis. In between appointments at work, she logged on to WebMD. The first question that came up after she’d entered her symptoms into the system was: Could you possibly be pregnant?
Corey stared at the words on the computer screen until the screen saver kicked in. No, I couldn’t possibly be pregnant! She and Luke had tried to get pregnant for almost a year with no luck. Being five years older than Corey, Luke had been eager to start their family right away. But Corey had put him off, wanting to become more established in her job first. They had only seriously begun trying ten months or so before Luke’s cancer was diagnosed. At the time, Corey had felt thankful that she wasn’t also pregnant. Then, immediately, she’d felt guilty for feeling that way. No, I couldn’t possibly be pregnant! That would be just too ironic!
“Ms. Bennett, your three o’clock appointment is here,” her assistant, Erica, said from the doorway. When Corey didn’t reply, Erica added, “Are you okay?”
After an afternoon of trying to focus on the peculiarities of the Winston estate, and not doing a very good job of it, Corey started for home. She stopped on the way and bought a pregnancy test and then picked up a salad. It was late. Kathryn and all the workmen were long gone by the time she arrived home. Corey wiped a layer of fine dust off the kitchen table and sat staring at the EPT box while she ate her salad. When she finished, she put her fork in the dishwasher and walked into the great room. Everything in the house had a layer of dust from the demolition. Kathryn had said the contractors would seal off the master bedroom, but it hadn’t seemed to have mattered. Corey wondered if the dust might be harmful to a baby. Despite the sweltering heat, she walked outside to her small, enclosed patio area and sat down. She noticed the ficus tree standing under the eave of the condo. Corey had put the plant outside after returning from the beach and had been faithful in watering the plant every day—or at least almost every day. Its lush green leaves were now a testament to the good care she’d been giving it. She remembered Diane telling her that she should also talk to the plant, and since no one else was around, she thought, Why not?
“You see, plant, it’s like this. I’m in a bit of a dilemma. On the one hand, I’m thirty-two years old. My biological clock is ticking. If I’m pregnant, a part of me will be really excited because I do want to have a baby. I mean, it would have been nice for it to have happened with Luke. But then, it would have been nice if Luke hadn’t died, right?”
Corey paused for a moment and took a deep breath.
“If I’m pregnant, I want to keep this baby. But should I tell Tripp? If I do, things will get complicated. I know he will want to be involved. He might even want to marry me just to give the baby his name. Southern men often have rather old-fashioned views about that kind of thing. But the thought of joint custody, and shuttling a baby back and forth to Florida, isn’t very appealing.
“On the other hand, the clients of Landon, Crane, and Forrester aren’t the kind of people who will accept an unwed and pregnant lawyer as their counsel. The partners might not be able to fire me, but I�
��ll never become their first woman partner. And who knows? They might even make my life so unbearable that I’ll have to quit. If I’m pregnant, perhaps I should look for another job, at a different type of firm, where a woman wanting a baby and going it alone wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. But I’ve put in a lot of time at LCF, and I really don’t want to start over somewhere else.”
Corey paused and waited, as though there might be a response from the tree. Okay, ficus, you’ve been a great listener, but I really could use some advice now. When nothing seemed to be forthcoming from the ficus tree, Corey went inside, grabbed the EPT, and went to the bathroom. When the plus sign appeared in the little round window, indicating she was pregnant, Corey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She couldn’t help but remember how anxiously Luke had waited outside the bathroom door each month to see if she was pregnant, and his obvious disappointment when she wasn’t. Crazily, she then thought about her eighth-grade health teacher. She’d been right. You could get pregnant after doing it only once.
She wanted to share her news with someone but quickly realized there was no one. Luke had been her best friend. She had some casual friendships with people at work and, of course, with Romeo and Gary. But that was it. She and Diane were close, but Corey knew her sister would want her to go straight to Tripp and tell him about the baby. Heck, Diane might even tell Tripp about the baby if Corey didn’t. So she was just going to have to figure this thing out herself. At least the next day was Saturday, so she wouldn’t have to try to focus on work as well.
