by Kat Bammer
“It’s just a hard time right now and we don’t see eye to eye on some things in life. So…” There was silence around the table and Lisa looked into the concerned faces of her friends. “Can we now please change the subject to something more fun?”
Lisa wracked her brain for a new topic to fill the silence when the door of the café opened and a group of women entered. Immediately their chatting and laughing overpowered every other noise in the café, and Lisa turned to get a better look at who had just entered.
“Theresa Fisher,” Julie hissed under her breath and Lisa turned back instantly. She didn’t want to meet Peter’s ex-wife. Yes, she was curious about her, had even contemplated to ask Peter about her, but in reality…she didn’t need the comparison and following self-doubt.
“Julie,” one of the women cried out in a disgusting childlike voice and came directly their way. Too late for running now. Lisa straightened her back and steeled herself for impact.
“Theresa.” Julie kissed the woman on both cheeks in a very silly manner. “How are you doing? You look great.”
The responding laugh grated on her nerves.
“I’m good. Out and about with a couple of friends. Who are your friends?” she asked, but when Lisa’s eyes met hers, the cold, calculating expression made her shiver.
Whoa. There was some serious animosity going on. They’d never met before so even if she’d heard about her and Peter, she wouldn’t know how Lisa looked.
“These are my friends Holly, Claire, and Lisa. Holly is the owner of this café and Claire and Lisa run Gabriel’s Inn.”
“Oh, the famous Lisa.”
Famous? What! Wait a minute, did she really say famous? Lisa turned to face Theresa fully. “Hello.” She paused a second. “Theresa, isn’t it? What exactly makes me famous?” She waited for an answer, but her face soon hurt with the forced smile she put on.
Theresa laughed again, an artificial, high-pitched laugh. “Well, Pete told me some things about you.”
Lisa’s face, neck, and ears felt impossibly hot. Oh God.
“I hear you’re his newest side project now.”
Lisa tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. Side project? What the hell.
“You look surprised.” Theresa’s syrupy voice didn’t match the malicious glee in her eyes.
“Look. Peter is my husband. We’ve been married for five years. He gets distracted easily. I know that.”
Lisa rubbed her temple. She really didn’t need this. She just wanted to sit here, talk to her friends, eat a big piece of blueberry pie or maybe two. Why couldn’t people just mind their own business? She should just walk away from this. But did this woman really believe Peter was still her husband? Was she delusional?
Lisa squished her eyebrows together. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I got the impression your divorce was through, so technically Peter is your ex-husband and you were married for five years.”
Theresa’s saccharine smile got a little rough around the edges but before she could say something nasty, Lisa continued, “But either way, he’s all yours.”
It hurt. The second it was out Lisa knew she didn’t really mean it. Or maybe she meant it, but her body just hadn’t caught on. She really didn’t know anymore.
One day, and she already missed their easy banter, the off-the-charts sex, the way he made her feel sexy and desired and precious.
She really thought this time they had a fighting chance. A future. She just needed to deal with the accusations of her father first because they were clearly not on the same page on this.
Theresa’s smug face was firmly back in place now. “We’re talking reconciliation, maybe even starting a family. So don’t interfere.” She stabbed her finger into Lisa’s face, then turned and stormed out of the café; her friends, who had placed themselves on a table halfway on the other side of the café, immediately followed her and left Wendi, with bulging eyes, in the dust.
“Well, I didn’t like them as customers, anyway.” Holly shrugged and Julie snorted. Any tension left evaporated, and they started talking again as if nothing had happened.
Lisa tried to participate in the conversations; she even agreed to a night out with the girls the coming week. But her mind was in turmoil.
Was Peter really keeping her as a side project, while reconciling with his ex-wife?
Was it all just a game to him? And why the hell was Lisa jealous even though she broke off their relationship.
She rubbed her forehead. It was all too much. But one thing just became crystal clear. This Theresa, she wasn’t a nice person. And Peter deserved someone much better than that snake. Someone who could accept who he was, not manipulate him and guilt him into someone he was not.
He had firm rules in place. A code of conduct. Black and white. No gray area, where things got wobbly.
That’s what he’d told her. That’s where he took a stand. That’s the kind of man he was.
And maybe, just maybe she could deal with a little controversy. At least she knew he wouldn’t bend, just because she wanted him too. Or just because his ex-wife tried to manipulate him. He would stand upright for the things he thought were right. She should appreciate that. The next time she saw him, she would talk to him. Really talk to him and see where he stood on all this.
“I gotta go.” Lisa got up, grabbed her things, ran out the café, and ignored the stunned faces of her friends.
29
“What is this?” Peter tilted his head to the side before he closed the door of his car and walked toward Blake. Several times on their way up here, he’d thought Blake got lost in the woods, but Blake navigated the gravel roads as if he had memorized them. Most likely he had.
“I bought it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, gonna live up here.”
“In this?” Peter raised his eyebrows and kicked at a pile of planks, that might have been a wooden fence at one time. He had been surprised when Blake mentioned to him some time ago he was looking at houses.
“Well, yes, not yet. But once I’m finished, it will be the perfect home.” Blake crossed his arms and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“This is straight out of a horror movie.” Peter’s gaze ping-ponged between what had once been a hunting cabin and Blake.
Blake broadened his stance. “No, it’s not.”
Peter chuckled. “It sure is. Some young, dumb blonde being abducted into a cabin in the woods—oh wait. Maybe it’s a horror or porn flick.”
Blake shoved Peter with his left hand. “You’re an ass. Your house is in the middle of nowhere, as well.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Peter raised his index finger. “First of all, my house is a house; second…” He raised his middle finger. “Yes, it’s surrounded by trees but it’s in the middle of a meadow; third…” He raised his ring finger. “It’s got water, it’s got electricity. It is nothing like this.” He pointed at the cabin. What was his best friend thinking? This was a dump. It might have been a hunting cabin twenty years ago, but it had been left to rot years ago.
“I got water. Got my own well, and you might be surprised, but I got electricity. The former owner apparently was some top dog of an electrical company. So, he got the place on the grid.”
“That is hilarious. So apart from the nonexistent roof, the tree, that comes out of…a window…and everything else, you’re in great shape.”
“I’m rebuilding it.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Don’t look so surprised.”
“Oh, I’m not. I just never thought you would leave the bar and own an actual house or cabin.”
“Well, I’m full of surprises. You gonna help me or what?”
“Sure, I’ll help you. We’re a team.”
“Yes, we are. And as part of your team—what the hell crawled up your ass and died?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, don’t nothing me. Still trouble in paradise?”
“It’s ju
st her.”
“No shit?” Blake snickered until Peter shoved him. “You two still fighting?”
Peter sighed. “We’re not fighting. She’s just being unreasonable.”
“Oh, and you’re the poster boy for reasonable.”
“Hey.” Peter’s eyes tightened.
“I’m just saying—there’s always two sides of the coin.”
“Well, my side is a valid one.”
Blake leaned sideways with his hand in his pockets until their shoulders touched for a brief moment. “Yeah, might get lonely on your side, though.”
Peter nodded but otherwise turned quiet. Blake was right. He was lonely already. After a few short weeks, he already missed having Lisa in his bed when he woke up. Or when he went to bed, or when they met in the middle of the day and he could steal a kiss or two. He missed their easy banter and deep conversations even more than the physical stuff. He could talk to her and she just got him. On a level, that astonished him sometimes. They still had that magical connection. Like so many years ago, at his sister’s funeral. He was a black-and-white guy. Always was. It made a lot of things easier, especially if you face your enemy. But personal relationships were a whole other beast. Hence, his poor performance in this area of his life.
“So, you think I overreacted?”
“This is not about what I think. But no. You did exactly what you did your whole life. You made a decision. You informed your team. Then you went for it. Relationships with women just don’t work that way. You can’t make decisions alone. You’re a team now. And there is no I in team.”
“Really? Corny much?”
“If the shoe fits. As I see it, you got two options: be right and alone, or try at least to understand her side and maybe you can save your relationship.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Really? You’re asking me relationship advice?” Blake stared at him incredulously. “I got no fucking clue. Buy her flowers, grovel. Do whatever it takes. Talk to her. If this is the woman you love, you can’t let anything come between you. Not your ex. Not your pride. Not your attitude.”
“My ex? What would Theresa have to do with anything?”
“Apparently, you two are talking reconciliation—that’s what she told Lisa.”
“Are you shitting me? Where’d you even get that from?”
“I got my sources.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re banging Lisa’s friend, aren’t you?”
“Hey, she’s a great lady. Don’t talk like that.”
“Oh, sorry. So, you’re having relations with Claire?”
Blake shrugged but grinned.
“Just don’t fuck it up. She’s Lisa’s best friend. I don’t want to be forced to quit our friendship because my girl told me so.”
“Already doing what your lady tells you. That’s the kind of attitude; that keeps you in a relationship. Now you just need to get her back.”
They both chuckled but Peter’s stomach hardened. It wouldn’t be easy to get her back. But nothing worth fighting for ever was.
“So, about this house of yours? When do we start?”
“I got the plans in the truck. Teardown’s tomorrow.”
“Wow, no time like the present.”
Peter watched Blake get the plans from his truck.
Nothing ever stayed the same. Blake was right. Sticking to his old ways would mean he’d lose Lisa. Again. He wasn’t willing to let that happen. Not again.
30
Lisa’s plan didn’t go as she’d hoped. When she arrived at the Inn, her breath hitched when she saw Alan’s car and the funeral car in the parking lot.
She jumped off her bike, threw it to the side at the back entrance, and ran to the cottage. And stopped in the middle of the meadow.
Two men drove a gurney to the cottage. Why on earth was there a gurney?
“Mom?” Lisa passed the two men and barged into the cottage.
Her mother stood in the kitchen. Her face was ashen, and her shoulders sagged. Alan sat at the bar and sipped a cup of tea.
She ran toward her father.
Lisa had seen her dad yesterday. Now he looked completely altered. He still looked like he had done the last few weeks, but he looked different too. Lifeless. Like an empty shell—still and foreign.
Lisa hesitated again. “Mom?”
Her mother moved next to her and stretched out her arms.
Lisa flew into them. Tears clogged her throat.
“Your father died, honey.”
Lisa could hear the tears in her mother’s voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Did you say goodbye?”
“He died sometime during the night. I was asleep.”
Lisa squeezed her eyes shut. He died alone. All alone.
“He loved you very much, honey. We both do.”
They stood like that for a long time. Both crying.
“Have you called Karen?” Lisa wiped her eyes.
“No, not yet.” Her mother sniffled and Alan handed them both a hanky.
Alan squeezed Lisa’s shoulder and handed her a cup of tea. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. —She had no words.
* * *
The next days passed in a flurry. There were people in and out of the cottage, but Lisa mostly sat on the couch next to her mother and stared at her father’s hospital bed until it was gone. Sometimes her mother told stories about her dad but most of the time they just mourned in silence.
Lisa’s sister had her way of coping—hyperactivity mode. She organized the funeral and made all the other necessary arrangements. Lisa just stayed at her mother’s side. Listened when her mother wanted to talk. Comforted when her mother cried. And just sat with her, through the long nights and the even longer days.
Numerous times during those days and nights she took her phone, ready to call Peter, longing for his voice, but she didn’t.
* * *
Today was the day of the funeral and the urgency, the need to have Peter near—his calming influence, his strength—was even more prevalent. Would she ever be able to mend their break?
There was a knock on the door of the cottage and Lisa got up from the sofa, brushed the wrinkles out of her black dress, and walked to the door.
When she opened the door Lisa blinked rapidly. Lots of people were around the Inn making preparations, but she hadn’t expected Special Agent Holt from the FBI here.
“Special Agent Holt.” Lisa nodded once, but otherwise blocked the entry. Her mother didn’t need any more bad news.
“Ms. Reynolds. Can I come in for a second?”
She had a genuine smile on her face. Compassion.
Lisa hesitated but then stepped to the side and let Special Agent Holt enter.
When they arrived in the living room, her mother’s lips trembled, and she sat rigidly on the sofa.
“Mrs. Reynolds, my deepest condolences.”
Lisa’s mother nodded but otherwise didn’t say anything. Lisa offered the detective a seat and took her place, next to her mother.
“What brought you here?” Lisa didn’t intend to be harsh, but she could feel the full body tremors of her mother next to her and this pissed her off. Her mother had had enough. She didn’t need this, today.
“The evidence found in Carl Reynolds’ shed is not incriminating.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot up.
“Apparently Mr. Reynolds was good friends with a guy from the Whitebrook Gazette who worked the police blotter. He made copies of things he shouldn’t have even seen and gave it to Mr. Reynolds.”
Lisa’s mom nodded. “Sam Conors worked at the Gazette, but he died a few years ago. Even left Carl something in his will—ahhh.”
Lisa’s breathing turned shallow. She’d missed all of this. She’d missed all those years with her dad just to avoid potential conflicts with her mom and to avoid the memories of Peter. Maybe Peter had been right. Whenever things got tough or didn’t go to plan, she too
k the easy way out. Past Tense. Not anymore.
Special Agent Holt nodded once then stood up. “So those photos were crime-scene photos taken by the sheriff’s department. They shouldn’t have gotten into the hands of civilians. I’m sorry for your inconvenience. And I’m sorry for your loss.”
She turned and let herself out. The door closed with a silent click and Lisa waited for her mother’s reaction.
“Okay, that’s that. Now onto the funeral.” She stood up, smoothed her dress, and left the cottage.
Lisa’s chest expanded. Finally. Then she swallowed hard against the bitter taste lingering in her mouth. She stood up and went to the bathroom. Was her mother really that cold that she would just go back to business?
Prior to her dad’s passing and even in the days after, Lisa had felt a connection between them. Somehow, something had changed. The only question was how long it would last until her mother would push her away. Because with her mom, Lisa never knew.
She splattered her face with cold water and looked at herself in the mirror.
Whatever. Her mother would act however she wanted. And Lisa had to work on herself to not let her mother’s mood swings hurt her or rule her life. She was her own person. It was time to start behaving like it and not like a child seeking her mother’s love and respect. And not fall into the same pattern of pushing people away, like her mother. The image of an angry Peter floated through her mind and Lisa shook her head and pressed her hand against her chest. Now it was time to mourn her father. Everything else had to wait.
* * *
When Lisa entered the Inn, after the funeral, she could still smell a whiff of lemon when she passed the old sideboard, in the breakfast room, on her way to the patio.
Lisa and Claire had been polishing up the old furniture before Lisa’s dad died.
Everything had smelled lemony then and a little bit of that normalcy was still left.
