by Elle Casey
“Yeah, my daughter. And my wife.”
“Sit down and tell me about them,” I say, gesturing towards the couch. “Come on, sit. You’re giving me a neck ache making me look up at you.” It’s a lie, since him being across the room makes it no problem to watch him, but I want him to relax. He can’t keep running out of the cabin and out into the snow when he’s mad. He could easily freeze out there, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.
Jeremy hesitates for a few seconds, but then he gives in and takes a spot on the end of the couch farthest from me. He stares at his folded hands in his lap.
“How old was she when she died?” I cringe inwardly at the bluntness of my question, but at the same time I know that we might as well just talk about it, without trying so hard to be polite and circumspect.
“We were both thirty-two. Too young.”
“And she was pregnant?”
“Yep. Days from giving birth. Her due date was three days after her accident, in fact.”
Jeremy stares at the table and speaks almost in a monotone. But I’m not going to let him stop now. He’s on a roll.
“So she was killed by a drunk driver, you said?”
“Yeah.” He looks up. “But that’s not what I want to talk about. Not her death. I want to talk about her life.”
I smile. “Great. Tell me about Laura’s life.” I fold my legs under me, disturbing Jaws’s nap, but he doesn’t seem to care much. He goes right back to closing his eyes and snoring his soft little doggy snore. I play with his fuzzy ears as I listen.
“We met when we were twenty-two at this fountain in Manhattan. You know the one outside of the Apple store?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry. I don’t know Manhattan very well.”
“Anyway, doesn’t matter. We used to go back there a lot and toss coins in.” He smiles at some memory. “My brother threw an engagement ring in there, did he tell you? A damn meteor of a diamond.”
“Actually, I heard that you threw it in. Jana told me when we spent the day together.”
“Yeah, maybe. But he told me to. If it were me, I’d have traded it in for the money or given it to charity, but it’s what he wanted.”
“I heard his girlfriend tried to do all that.” I smile as I remember the story Jana told me while we were in the museum together. Leah was crazy when I met her years ago, and she’s just as crazy now. I was happy to find that even though her address had changed, she hadn’t.
“I don’t know her,” Jeremy says.
“She’s my friend. My very good friend. It’s how I ended up in this cabin. But that’s enough about me; tell me more about Laura.”
Jeremy leans back and lifts his legs, putting them on the coffee table, appearing more relaxed and not like he’s on trial anymore.
“She was an only child, so her parents really spoiled her, but it didn’t make her self-centered or anything. It just made her one of those people who focused on things. I guess she had so much attention focused on her all the time, she thought that’s how life was supposed to be.”
“And it’s not?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I shared time with two siblings. Nothing was ever focused on just one of us. It’s just a different life, I guess.” He sighs. “Anyway, she focused on me. She focused on what she loved to do. She paid attention to people. She could read their moods like a book was open in front of her.”
“And she liked books,” I say, glancing over at the copy of Wuthering Heights near my painting supplies. The binding is worn through in several spots.
“Yeah, she was a real book nerd. That’s what she called herself. I can’t even tell you how much money she spent on the damn things. I never complained, though. I liked listening to her talk about what she was reading, what she thought about this character or that one. Sometimes she’d read at night in bed and wake me up laughing. When she’d see I was awake, she’d beg me to let her read a paragraph or two. It always ended up being more than that. But I never cared about losing sleep that way. I liked listening to her read.”
“What was her favorite genre?”
“She was a sucker for a good romance. She said she liked the romantic comedies best.”
“Sounds like you guys laughed a lot.”
He smiles and looks up at me. “We did. I mean, not all the time. We fought like any couple does. But we were laughing more than we were crying, that’s for sure. She had a great sense of humor.”
“Do you think your daughter will inherit that from her?” I hold my breath, hoping he won’t be offended at my blatant poking and prodding. His daughter is obviously his hot-button. I’m tempted to keep pressing it for some reason.
“I hope so. I really do. Then maybe I can hear it again. Experience it again.”
I just stare at him, waiting for him to make the obvious connection I see floating out there in the air between us.
He sighs out long and loud and breaks his gaze from mine. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“You’re going to say that I won’t ever know if I don’t spend any time with her.”
“Actually, I wasn’t going to say that, but you’re probably right about that.”
He lifts his head to look at me. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say that it might be hard for her to display any of the qualities of either of her parents if she’s never around them or never with someone who could teach her about the one who’s not around anymore.”
“My brother and sister will talk about Laura with her.”
“With her? You mean with Cassie, right?”
He sighs again. “You’re very pushy, you know that?”
I grin. “I prefer to call it determined.”
“Fine. Yes, I meant Cassie.”
“I agree that James and Jana will do as good a job as they can at raising Cassie with memories of her mother, but that’s not going to be enough.” I stand, knowing that a little distance between us will be good for him right now. He’ll feel less pressured without my direct gaze on him and hopefully that will translate into him being more free to express himself.
I sense this discussion is good for his soul. I’ll bet he hasn’t talked to anyone about Laura since her death. At least not sober. He was too touchy about the subject before to let me believe otherwise.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His gaze and voice follow me as I make my way to the kitchen. “Are they doing something I won’t like with her?”
“I guess you’ll never know, since you aren’t involved. You know they have guardianship over her, right?” Jana told me how depressing it was taking Jeremy’s parental rights away the way they did, without him even there. She said they hired an investigator to locate him, but he came up empty. I’m going to have to ask Jeremy how he’s been flying under the radar for so long. Surely he uses credit cards to buy his booze.
He doesn’t answer, so I keep talking as I’m pulling mugs and chocolate powder out of the cabinet.
“No one knew Laura like you did. I mean, I heard about her from James and Jana while I was at James’s apartment, but none of them talked about her like you are now.”
“They better not have said anything bad about her.”
I frown over at him. “Of course they didn’t do that, don’t be ridiculous.” I go back to my hot chocolate making. The pan and a container of milk come out next. “They loved her, but they weren’t in love with her, you know what I mean? They could never talk about her to Cassie like you could. You’re the only one who laid in bed with Laura at night and dreamed about having a child together, laughed over her romance novels with her, discussed quotes from Wuthering Heights.”
I pour milk into the pan and start the heat going under it before I continue.
“Every kid should know about his birth, about the joy that went into conceiving him or her, if at all possible. I loved hearing my mom and dad talk about the years before me and how they’d give
n up hope of having a baby and then how I came along and was such a big surprise. It really made me feel grounded and wanted.”
Jeremy’s voice is rough when it finally responds. “Are you saying Cassie doesn’t feel grounded?”
I shrug as I stir the milk gently to keep it from burning on the bottom of the pan. “She’s not even a year old yet, but you know, they say that kids are very impressionable in their first year. They sense things without even knowing what’s happening from an adult’s perspective.”
“You think she feels like her real parents are missing?”
“I do.”
“But my sister and James … they’re great parents. They’re amazing people.”
“James is a great uncle and Leah and Jana are great aunts, but they aren’t Cassie’s parents. They don’t live together, they didn’t share in her creation, they’re all massively stressed over your problems, and they’re busy trying to live the lives they had before she was born. Lives which didn’t have a kid in them and by all rights, shouldn’t.”
“You make it sound as if they’re neglecting her.” Jeremy gets up off the couch and comes into the kitchen, stopping at the island and looking at me. He’s stressed; I can see it written all over his face.
“Of course they’re not neglecting her. She has everything a baby could need or want and then some. But you have to understand … they are not her parents and they don’t want to be her parents.”
“Are they pissed at me?”
I sigh as I think back on the conversations I had with his family. “No. They’re very worried about you and don’t blame you for losing your shit. They loved Laura too.”
“Losing my shit.”
I look over my shoulder and smile. “What would you call it?”
He smiles too, although it’s a weak attempt. “No, you’ve got it about right. I have lost my shit on a number of occasions.” He shakes his head and looks off into the distance. “I haven’t been sober in …” He frowns like he’s doing calculations.
I fill in the blank for him. “Since Laura died.”
He nods and looks at me again. “Pretty much.” He drops his gaze to the counter. “Pitiful, huh? A grown man, college-educated, having a year-long pity party?”
“It hasn’t been a year, has it?”
“No. She died on March fifteenth. The Ides of March, Laura used to call it.”
I cringe. “That sounds prophetic.”
Jeremy looks up at me, and I could swear I see hope there. “It was. She was.”
My milk-stirring stops without me even realizing it. I sense this is a big deal to Jeremy, that I consider his wife something of a soothsayer.
“You’re saying your wife could tell the future?”
“No, not like that. Just that… she sensed she was going to die young. And she knew things. About people.”
“Lots of people think they’re going to die young.” Even so, a shiver moves through me.
“She talks to me, you know.”
I start stirring again, wondering if he’s so bad off that he really thinks he’s talking to a dead woman. Goosebumps are standing up off my arms.
“From where she is now,” he continues.
“Do you want some hot chocolate?” I ask, putting several tablespoons of cocoa powder and sugar in with the hot milk.
“Did you hear what I just said? I talk to the ghost of my dead wife.”
“Yes, I heard you. Do you want some hot chocolate or not?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“YEAH, I’LL HAVE SOME HOT chocolate.”
Neither of us speaks as I pour out two mugs of the warm drink. Now that he’s confessed he’s talking to a dead woman, I’m a little more worried than I was about the state of his mental health. I’m not sure what to say to him now. I’m definitely not qualified for this. I should probably stop probing him for information.
“She didn’t talk to me at first. It was like four months after she was gone that I heard her for the first time.”
I decide to attack the issue from a scientific perspective. Brain chemicals can be pretty powerful. “Are you sure it’s not just your own brain talking to you? Chemicals misfiring or whatever?”
He shrugs and takes a cautious sip of his drink. “I hope not. I like talking to her. It makes me feel like sticking around.” He frowns and looks down into the cup. “This is pretty good, actually.”
I laugh. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone make it from scratch.”
“It’s the only way, or so my mother always said.”
“Do you ever hear her in your head? Your mother?”
I shrug. “I guess. Echoes of her.”
“So I’m not so crazy, then?”
I smile, a softness for him making me go warmer inside than the hot chocolate could ever make me. “I don’t talk to my mother, though. Big difference.”
“Maybe you could if you tried.”
“I did a seance once at a party when I’d had too many shots of vodka, and I’m never doing that again, trust me.” Nothing really happened, but the very idea of calling to spirits freaked me out and I ended up vomiting in the bushes outside my friend’s house. Never again will I mess with the veil between the worlds. More goosebumps come out to join the party, making the hair on my legs instantly grow another millimeter.
Jeremy drinks more of his chocolate and then looks down at it as he talks. “I’d talk to Laura every day if I could, but I only hear her sometimes.”
“Do you hear her when you’re drunk or sober?”
“Drunk, I guess. I haven’t been sober much since she died. On and off I have, but not for extended periods. A couple days in the hospital when James had me locked up, I had nothing — no booze, no drugs — but that’s it. I’ve been high on one thing or another pretty much since Laura died.”
“James had you locked up? Like on a psychiatric hold?”
“That’s about it, yeah. I guess I got a little rowdy somewhere downtown and pissed a cop off, but they called him and he told them to Baker Act me.” He mutters, “Asshole,” before taking another sip of his drink.
“From what I could tell, he was just worried about you and trying to find a way to reel you in.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Jeremy finishes his chocolate and walks over toward the sink.
I back up until my butt hits the edge of the counter to avoid getting too near him, but he doesn’t seem to be suffering the same concerns as I am. His arm brushes up against me as he goes by.
My heart is fluttering as he rinses his cup out. Was that on purpose? He could have gone around the other side of the island, but he came right next to me and touched me. What does that mean? Probably nothing. Still, my pulse is going faster than it should.
“James has been up my ass since he went away to college, always telling me what to do and how to do it. This is just more of the same.”
“I didn’t get that from him at all.” I hold my mug in front of me with two hands when Jeremy turns around. It’s a barrier between us. I don’t want to step away and make it obvious that being near him makes me nervous in a silly way … in a you’re-really-too-good-looking way, but I have to do something. I mean, damn; we’re standing here talking about his dead wife whose ghost he thinks is still hanging around, and all I can think about his how well-built he is and how great he must look naked. What is wrong with my sex drive, anyway? It’s obviously been way too long since I’ve gotten any action.
“I’m pretty sure I know him better than you do,” Jeremy says, oblivious to my discomfort and raging hormones.
I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Jeremy leans back against the kitchen sink, folding his arms over his chest, his smile going sexy. “Really? You think you know him better than I do?”
My chin goes up when I catch the mocking tone in his voice.
“I might not know him better, but I think I can see his motivations where you’re concerned a little clear
er than you can.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It is.”
“You’re feisty.”
His assessment of my character is not what I was expecting. It tones down my defensiveness when it feels like a compliment.
I shrug. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
“Actually, now that I think about it, you haven’t stopped giving me shit since the moment I walked in the door.”
He’s smiling so I know I’m not supposed to take offense, but still. What game is he playing? This feels like flirting, but I go with it anyway.
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you call making someone homemade hot chocolate? Giving them shit?”
“Okay, so the hot chocolate was an aberration.”
“And the chicken-fried steak? I thought it was your favorite.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Did my sister tell you? Is that why you cooked it for me?”
I have to laugh at his arrogance. Guffaws flies out of my mouth, making me sound like a barking seal.
“What’s so funny?” he asks cautiously, watching me carefully.
“What’s so funny is that you actually think I’m trying to trick you with chicken-fried steak.” Trying to stop laughing, I accidentally snort.
“Not trick me. Woo me or whatever.” His face goes a little red.
My jaw drops open, but I keep on laughing. “Woo you? Are you serious?” I shake my head, floating in a cloud of happy. This is the most ridiculous conversation I think I’ve ever had. Jeremy is so full of himself. Woo him? Wow. Too much Wuthering Heights for that guy. Even being a drunken mess of a jerk, he still somehow thinks women would want him enough to woo him with a piece of chicken-fried steak. And that I’d be that woman.
Holy hell, I know I’m pretty bad in the romance department, but surely I could come up with something sexier than that. I suppose I should be insulted, but I’m not. I’m just happy to be here, standing in this kitchen with a man who could be wooed with chicken-fried steak. Too bad he’s so messed up, because he would be perfect for me. Just my luck.
