Love Me Forever

by Muriel Jensen

  She wrapped an arm around his middle and felt her breath rise and fall with his. Life, hope flowed through her. This wasn’t the behavior of a man who didn’t care about her.

  “Would you want to join us for Sunday dinner?” She knew asking him was taking a chance, but she did it. She waited breathlessly, her cheek against his heartbeat. When an answer took longer than it should have, she realized that no matter how it felt to her, his arms around her meant nothing more than the friend in him responding to her need for a friend. As he’d told her the morning she’d bawled in his arms in the Pig ’N Pancake parking lot.

  Hope died. Life, however, flowed on. She had things to do and she would have to do them without him. At least, without him loving her the way a man loved a woman.

  Hunter felt the change in her from soft and pliant to tense, removed. He hated himself. “I volunteered to do an audit for the public radio station on Sunday,” he said finally, forced cheer in his voice. He was sure it didn’t fool her. “I’m sorry. Your first dinner should probably be just family, anyway.”

  She didn’t lift her head. “I understand.” She said the words quietly, but he got the feeling that meant she thought he was lying.

  Darkness had fallen. Hunter could feel Sandy shivering against him and pushed her away so he could pull off his sweatshirt.

  “No,” she protested, “you’ll be cold.”

  “Well, if you’d worn the sweatshirt I bought you...” he chided, forcing the neck hole over her head then holding each sleeve out as she groped for them, finally pushing her arms in. “There. Better?”

  Her eyes shone in the dark. He saw clarity in her gaze and pain, which had supplanted all her passion in their relationship.

  They heard the Raleighs come out of the Food Bank building next door, and her daughters shouting for her.

  She pushed away from him and answered their call. “We’re coming!” she said.

  “Long trip to the garbage cans,” Nate teased, meeting Sandy and Hunter at the bottom of the parsonage steps. “You guys want to stop by for ice cream?”

  Sandy refused with a weary smile. “Thanks, but I’ve had a rough day. I’m exhausted.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But, thanks.”

  Everyone said good-night and went to their cars. Hunter took a yawning Addie in his arms and put her in her car seat, while Sandy secured Zoey.

  “I’ll follow you and help you get them in the house,” he offered, holding the door for her to get in the driver’s seat.

  “No, thanks, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. “I do it all the time. Except now, thanks to you, I have light in the garage. Then she added, “One more thing before you go.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My father’s ready to distribute the money. I’m setting a meeting up for Monday and Nate says we can do it in his conference room. Can you be there?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll still be at the audit. I just provided information, you’re the daughter of the benefactor. You don’t need anyone else.”

  “Okay, then.” There was a remoteness about her now. “Bye, Hunter.”

  She uttered the two words softly but they sounded final. He opened his mouth to answer—and couldn’t think of anything to say. He waved instead.

  * * *

  SANDY HAD NEVER seen a group of nonprofit managers so happy or so hopeful. Her father had simply broken his donation into ten equal shares because all Sandy’s and Hunter’s analyses proved was that each group accomplished remarkable things with what they had. She told them he preferred to remain anonymous, and presented the gifts from “someone who appreciates Astoria’s giving spirit and wants to help it continue.” The Daily Astorian photographed the delirious smiles, and noted words of gratitude and promises to make certain every penny served a good purpose.

  Everyone shook her hand, and the group bestowed flowers on her. They asked her to give the flowers to their mystery benefactor with their heartfelt thanks.

  She did that afternoon. It was a bright, beautiful day and she sat with her parents on their deck while the girls watched the Disney Channel.

  “You did it,” Sandy said to her father. “You’ve accomplished all the goals that brought you back to Astoria.”

  He held the large bouquet of stargazer lilies, roses and daisies, then presented them to Loretta, who sat beside him.

  “The primary reason was your mother and you,” he said, a small break in his voice. He coughed. “And that’s worked out even better than I’d dared hope, and is much more than I deserve. So, it’s wonderful that the nonprofits are happy and can continue their work, at least for a while, without having to strain for every dime.”

  Sandy’s parents were radiant. She finally had part of what she’d wanted so badly when she was fourteen—her parents back together and in love again. They were good people whose lives were shaken by hard times, and though maybe they’d coped badly then, they were doing their best to restore their family now. She was happy about that.

  “I have more happy news.” Her father smiled widely. “My tests were negative. I was sent to the oncologist in error. I’ve got a simple infection antibiotics can handle.”

  Sandy stood to wrap her arms around him, relief flowing through her. “I’m so glad. We should celebrate.”

  “We will. After the Clothes Closet opening when you have more time.”

  “That’s a promise.” She made to leave. “I’ve got to pick up some things for the cart, then drop off a donation at the Closet. Stella’s partner in the yarn shop sent us even more things.”

  Her mother stood, too, arms filled with flowers. She looked ten years younger, Sandy thought, and a lifetime happier. “You want to leave the girls here again,” she inquired, “and we’ll take them to daycare in the morning?”

  Sandy went inside to ask the girls if they wanted to stay. They peered around her to watch the television while she explained the plan. They nodded without even glancing at her.

  She indicated their stares to her mother. “I’d say it’s okay.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.” She gave Sandy an extra hug at the door. “Thanks for bringing the flowers. You’ve always done that, you know.”

  “Done what?”

  “Brought the flowers. Provided the finishing touch, the bit of beauty that pulls everything together and makes it right. I love you.”

  Touched, Sandy said simply, her voice thin. “I love you, too, Mom.”

  * * *

  THERE WAS A certain advantage to being without a man in her life, Sandy thought as she stood on a ladder and strung lights along her coffee cart early Monday evening. She had more energy for other things. She would probably love Hunter Bristol forever, but it really was time to give up on him. It was against her nature to surrender to anything, but she had to save herself.

  Her family dinner had gone well. She and her parents were on wonderful terms, Zoey and Addie loved spending time with them. Letting the anger and resentment go was liberating. She felt reborn, despite the underlying sadness over Hunter.

  He was the one who’d told her that adoration of parents was for children.

  She felt suddenly very adult. Most of her life, she’d been forced to take charge, to work hard and be strong, but inside, she was always the sad young girl who’d lost so much. Now that she’d let that go, she felt like a woman.

  Bobbie, standing on a ladder on the other side of the cart, peered over the top at her. “Hey! Wake up. Toss me the end of your string and we’ll connect it in the front. Is this roof strong enough for me to climb on?”

  “Yes, but don’t you dare. I’ll do it.”

  “I will.” She cast Sandy a grin. “I’m lighter, just in case you’re wrong.”

  “Hey. I’ve lost twelve pounds since I bought the cart.”

  B
obbie had already climbed up. She strung the lights on the hooks already in place, and connected the two strings in the middle. “There!”

  Off the ladders, they walked around the cart to make sure the strings were straight, all the bulbs aimed in the same direction.

  “Okay. Ready to see how it looks?”

  “I am.” Bobbie stood aside, arms folded, and watched as Sandy plugged in the cord to the inside power source. The lights came alive, brightly outlining Crazy for Coffee. She applauded. “It looks wonderful.”

  It did. Sandy was pleased.

  Bobbie put an arm around Sandy’s shoulders as they stood back to admire their handiwork. “So, things are not too bad. Business is going well?”

  “Right.”

  “Sunday dinner as a family went well? The girls like him?”

  “Yes. I was just thinking that I finally feel grown up.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve given up longing for what I can’t have in the future, and I’ve forgiven and forgotten the things that hurt me in my past, so...the present is good.”

  “Are we talking about longing for a future with Hunter?”

  “Yes. I invited him to family dinner and he wouldn’t come.” Sandy hesitated, pushing down the emotion that filled her chest. “His refusal took me by surprise, you know, because he’d been so great all afternoon at the Closet. He was witty and wise and comforting and I thought... Well, I always figure I can make things turn out right. I guess I’m just not right for him.”

  Bobbie squeezed her shoulders. “I think you are. But, if he doesn’t, it’s his loss. Come on, let’s go home.”

  “Let me just make sure the cart door’s locked.”

  “What did you do with the girls?”

  “They’re at my parents’. Mom will take them to daycare in the morning.” She climbed up the portable steps, tugged on the door then, finding it secure, leaped off the steps. “She’s going to start watching them again in the mornings. I told her she didn’t have to now that my father’s home, but she insisted. He’s going to come over with her.”

  “You want to have dinner with us if you’re alone tonight? I can put a few of those twelve pounds back on you.”

  Sandy grinned as they climbed into her VW. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a quiet evening to myself?” Before Bobbie could hazard a guess, she said, “Since before I married Charlie. I’m going to put my feet up, pour myself a glass of Moscato and watch the Hallmark Channel.”

  “That does sound heavenly.”

  Since Bobbie had married Nate, given up her dreams of painting in Italy and acquired two young boys to care for, Sandy wondered if she regretted the loss of her single life. “Do you miss evenings on your own?”

  Bobbie thought a minute and shook her head, appearing almost surprised at the question. “No. Oh, occasionally I’d like a long enough silence to think a thought through, but for the most part, considering I once looked death in the face, I am so happy to hear laughter and arguments and television and all the other sounds of life. I’m here and I don’t care if it’s noisy.”

  Sandy leaned across her gear shift to wrap Bobbie in a hug. “I’m very happy you’re here, too.”

  She dropped off Bobbie, then drove herself home, eagerly anticipating the solitary evening she’d planned.

  * * *

  HUNTER STOOD ON the viewing platform atop the Astoria Column, at the peak of Coxcomb Hill, as dusk began to overtake evening. He was searching for perspective and had hoped to find it by looking down from a great height. The hill was six hundred feet high and the tower, patterned after Trajan’s Column in Rome, was a hundred and twenty-five feet tall.

  So far, his strategy wasn’t working. The view was breathtaking—the ocean, the Columbia River, Youngs River and the Lewis and Clark River, all the freighters at anchor in the Columbia resembling toys in a beautifully situated bathtub. He just continued to feel small and out of sync with his environment.

  He didn’t know if Sandy was changing, or if he was, but he thought about her constantly. He was impressed with her response to her father’s return, and proud of what she was accomplishing with Crazy for Coffee. Word was out that it was the place in town. She’d made insightful recommendations for the distribution of her father’s money and Nate told him she’d been gracious at the presentation.

  So, what did he do now? He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but that life stretched out ahead of him burdened with debt. It would be cruel to invite anyone into it.

  He should live as he had before she’d come into his life. Focused. Determined. But knowing her had changed everything—including him. He now wanted her more than anything.

  His cell phone rang. It was his mother.

  “Hunter, can you stop by the house?”

  He was tired and confused, and sometimes being in her company only exaggerated those feelings. But she sounded oddly anxious. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Are you at home?”

  “No, I’m at the Column. What’s wrong?”

  “What on earth are you doing at the Column?”

  “I’m...thinking.”

  “Well, can you come and think over here?” She hesitated a moment then added, “I want you to meet...someone.”

  He wondered why everything had to be shrouded in mystery with her. “Who, Mom?”

  “Derek McNabb.”

  “And who is that?”

  “He’s...a detective.”

  Mercy. “Which one of your friends is keeping company with a suspicious man this time?”

  “Hunter, he’s found Jennifer. Would you please come over?”

  Unable to answer for a minute, Hunter looked out at the magical view of the confluent ocean and rivers and wondered if his life was finally coming together, too. Not that he wanted Jennifer back in his life, but he could sure use the money. “I’ll be right there,” he said.

  He flirted seriously with death as he drove down the circuitous road from the Column in three minutes, then made it to his mother’s in another five.

  Hunter’s mother and the detective sat at her kitchen table, the light on above it. The man had a laptop open in front of him and stood to shake Hunter’s hand.

  Derek McNabb was probably in his late twenties and had a craggy Tommy Lee Jones kind of face and a Humphrey Bogart voice. Had Hollywood cast him in a film as a detective, he wouldn’t have been more perfect, unless he’d been ten years older.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I think I’ve finally got some answers for you.”

  Hunter sat opposite him and focused on the laptop’s screen as Derek turned it toward him.

  “Found her at a hotel in Cozumel on the Yucatán Peninsula.”

  Hunter leaned on his forearms to study the photo of a youngish, dark-haired woman in the uniform of a maid. If he hadn’t known Derek was showing him a photo of Jennifer, he’d never have guessed it was her. She was skinny and the pretty face that had smiled often was now set in hard lines as she clutched a stack of towels to her, intent on her destination in what was probably a hotel corridor.

  Hunter narrowed his gaze. “You’re sure that’s her?”

  Derek leaned over to advance the photos. Now Jennifer looked directly into his eyes, clearly unaware she was being photographed. It was indeed her face, dark eyes, slender nose, hair that once had been glossy and free now pulled back against her head, probably knotted into a bun in the back. She looked like merely the wrapper that the woman he’d known had come in. The same outside, but empty inside, without the spirit and intelligence that had been there.

  “The boyfriend left eighteen months ago,” Derek said. “Took off with a waitress in the hotel bar. Jennifer’s been alone since then, rooms with one of the other hotel maids. I’m afraid the boyfriend made off w
ith what was left of your money.”

  Hunter sat back in his chair, still staring at the photo as Derek went on. “I can try to find him, but I’m betting the money’s gone by now. You’ve still got a good criminal case, though, and I’m in if you want to pursue that. The local police in Cozumel are keeping an eye on her for me until you tell me what you want to do. I’m guessing she’d roll on the boyfriend, since he left her for another woman.”

  His mother placed a hand on Hunter’s arm.

  “Both of them would likely do time,” Derek said. “That was a substantial amount of money, you were forced to close your business, you...”

  Hunter waited for angry resentment, cruel disappointment to overtake him. But they didn’t. The simple truth was—and he couldn’t believe he was thinking this—it didn’t seem to matter anymore. It was only money.

  He said that to himself again. It was only money.

  His fiancée had been important, of course, though he’d obviously not been important to her. She was clearly no longer the woman he’d loved—or maybe this was who she’d been all along.

  In any case, that part of his life was over. Finished. He didn’t have to think about it anymore. Jennifer’s expression conveyed an emptiness more complete than his had been when she’d left him.

  He still had bills to pay, but he was doing that.

  “Shall I call the Cozumel police?” Derek asked.

  Hunter shook his head. “No. I’m not going to press charges. She looks like she’s suffered enough.”

  “Hunter!” his mother said in complete exasperation.

  “We’ve got a good case,” Derek persisted, frowning at him.

  “Thank you for what you’ve done.” Hunter turned to his mother with a reproachful expression. “Though I didn’t know you were doing it. It would serve no purpose to send her to jail. Having the money back would have been nice, but since that’s not a possibility, I’d just as soon put the whole thing behind me.”