This Reminds Me of Us

by Julia Gabriel

  She could tell that everything wasn’t okay, though. And worrisome thoughts were hanging around more and more frequently. In trying to marry a man who was completely different from her father, had she ended up marrying one who was just a different version? Oliver wanted a particular kind of life—quiet, small town, family-oriented to the nth degree—but did it matter who peopled that life for him?

  Her father used to say that her mother was “the perfect wife” for him, even as he embarked on affairs and drank away his unhappiness. Was that what she was too? The perfect wife for the life Oliver wanted? If she had died last fall, how long would he have waited to remarry?

  She sighed. When she came home from the hospital, he was fine at first. He was like the old Ollie. But lately? She was getting the distinct impression that she wasn’t meeting the “perfect wife” standards.

  She gathered up the batiks and set them aside, then put the other fabrics back in the box and snapped the lid into place. Was she getting the quilting bug? It was certainly a relaxing activity. Why hadn’t Angie tried to get her interested in it before?

  Not as pushy as Michelle Trevor?

  Serena bit back a laugh as she lugged the box back over to the closet. Sometimes her thoughts were alarmingly blunt. She paused for a moment before closing the closet door. It saddened her that Mason and Cam didn’t have their grandmother in their lives anymore. How much of her would they even remember? Cam—probably not much. She couldn’t recall much from when she was five years old. Not even her first day of kindergarten.

  She did have fond memories of her maternal grandparents and their home outside Atlanta. Her mother used to take her and Peter to visit on school breaks. While her mother lunched with childhood friends, Serena would hang out in the kitchen with her grandmother and bake. Bread, cakes from scratch, buttermilk biscuits, cookies. She was the one who domesticated me.

  She shook her head at the thought of Mason and Cam ever being “domesticated.”

  They won’t be feral forever.

  Feral, that was an apt term for her boys. They would have a close relationship with Oliver’s dad, Tim, but they had never even met her parents. What was wrong with her mother and father? She sent birth announcements both times, but all she got back was deafening silence. She had thought that the arrival of grandkids would make them get over their displeasure with her marriage. I thought wrong, obviously. Years ago, Peter had bugged her about forcing the issue with their parents. “You know mum just goes along with whatever dad wants, even if she doesn’t agree with it.”

  Maybe I was too stubborn. Her parents started this, and she wanted them to fix it. She hated the thought of begging her own parents to see their grandkids. But she hated the thought of Mason and Cam not knowing their grandparents more.

  They came to see you in the hospital.

  True. Oliver did mention that. He had called to let them know about the accident. But he didn’t let the boys meet them.

  He wasn’t sure you wanted that.

  She hadn’t.

  She jumped off the bed and ran downstairs to find her phone before she thought better of the whole idea and changed her mind. She tapped in her mother’s cell number and listened while it rang on the other end, her heart pounding in her chest. She shouldn’t be nervous about talking to her own mother.

  But she was.

  Her mother’s voice mail picked up. Should I hang up? She’ll see that I called. She won’t call me back.

  You never know.

  I’d be surprised.

  There was the beep after her mother’s greeting and then silence. Serena’s heart was in her throat. Words! I need words!

  “Hi mum” … did you call her “mum?”

  Right. Start simple. “Hi mum. It’s me. Serena.” Her mind went blank again.

  You’re home from the hospital now.

  “I’m home from the hospital now … just wanted to let you know … don’t know if Oliver called to tell you or not …”

  Mention the boys.

  “... hope you and dad are well. I was thinking about bringing the boys to New York some time …”

  The museum!

  “... um, they want to go to the natural history museum and see the dinosaurs.”

  Perfect!

  “Call me … if you have time.”

  She hung up. There was no way her mother would call her back.

  You never know.

  Chapter 20

  Oliver and Matt stood on the sidewalk outside St. Caroline High School, watching a crowd of students wait for the building to be cleared. The fire alarm had gone off just as the final lunch period was ending. Some of the students were still drinking from bottles of water and small cartons of milk. Others rubbed their arms up and down in an effort to stay warm in the February chill.

  Oliver glanced over at his brother, who was uncharacteristically quiet today.

  “How’s Cassidy?” he asked.

  Matt shrugged. “She’s home. That’s all I know.”

  “You haven’t been over to see her? I thought you two were dating.”

  “We’re not.”

  “Jack said—”

  “It was more of a friends with benefits situation. But it’s over now, okay?”

  Oliver studied his brother’s profile. He could see the tightness in Matt’s square jaw and the tension in his shoulders, even beneath the heavy turnout gear. “Got it.”

  Oliver was under the impression that the Trevors weren’t overly enthused about Matt’s interest in Cassidy. He could understand that. Matt’s reputation wasn’t exactly sterling where women were concerned.

  Still, he felt bad for his younger brother. Hopping on a plane and flying up to Boston to see a woman in a hospital wasn’t normal behavior for Matt. Maybe his love ’em and leave ’em days were coming to an end. It was just too bad that he had picked a woman he couldn’t have.

  Across the way, two other firefighters pushed open the heavy steel doors to the school. They spoke briefly to the principal and vice principal. A minute later, the crowd of kids surged toward the open doors.

  “How’s Serena?” Matt asked.

  “She’s fine.”

  “How are the boys?”

  “Good. They’re good.”

  It was only Oliver that wasn’t “fine” or “good.” Serena had called her mother a few days ago. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Did she not remember just how estranged she’d been from her parents?

  His attention drifted from the students to the slice of soccer field he could see behind the far corner of the school. “You knew Ben Wardman,” he said.

  “Yeah, just through soccer and all.”

  “Serena really took the news of his death hard.”

  “A lot of people did. He was a pretty popular teacher.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t recall her really knowing him all that well. She’s friends with Ashley, but it’s not like we ever went out together as couples.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. We just never did.”

  “Huh. Well, they were friends. I used to see them at Two Beans sometimes, having coffee together.”

  “Serena and Ben?”

  “Yeah. Isn’t that who we’re talking about?”

  Oliver squinted hard at the soccer field, processing what Matt just told him. He used to see Serena and Ben having coffee together.

  Serena had just gotten out of Ashley’s car at the elementary school when her phone rang. She expected it to be Ollie. He had taken to calling her at odd times during the day, just to check in. For a split second, she considered ignoring it—she was due in Cam’s classroom—but then dug the phone out of her purse. Her breath caught at the sight of the area code. New York.

  It couldn’t be. Not after all these years. Not after three days of hopeful waiting.

  She tapped the screen to answer and held the phone up to her ear.

  “Serena?”

  Her legs nearly buckled beneath her.

  “M
um?”

  There was a long silence, as though her mother wasn’t sure what to say next. Serena wasn’t sure, either. Then they both spoke at once.

  “Did you get my message?”

  “I got your message.”

  She heard her mother’s raspy laugh on the other end.

  “Serena, love, I was so happy to hear your voice.”

  She wondered whether that was really true, but she hadn’t called her mother to confront her. She had called for Mason and Cam. She needed to keep that front and center in her mind.

  “I’m out of the hospital now.”

  “We came to see you!”

  “I know. Oliver told me.” Serena was imagining a giant cloud of awkwardness stretching from St. Caroline to the Upper East Side. Her natural inclination was to apologize for not calling her mother the day after she was released from the hospital. On the other hand, the only time her parents had been to see her was when she was unconscious and in a coma.

  “You said you were thinking about bringing Mason and Cam to New York for a visit,” her mother said.

  Serena was surprised that her mother remembered her grandsons’ names. “Yes. It would probably have to be after school lets out in June.”

  “Well, anytime is fine. We can put them up in Peter’s old room.”

  “You and Daddy haven’t moved?”

  Her mother’s laugh was sharp, a sound not filled with much amusement.

  “No, I’d love to downsize but your father likes his space.”

  Just two floors of her parents’ house covered more square footage than the home she shared with Oliver.

  “Although he’s been eyeing those new skyscrapers that keep popping up like weeds here in the city,” her mother went on. “But—”

  “You don’t like heights,” Serena finished the sentence for her. She had inherited her mother’s aversion to heights, herself.

  “Exactly! I cannot live on the seventieth floor of anything. Up in the clouds—literally!”

  Serena imagined Mason’s and Cam’s reaction to seeing all those tall buildings.

  “Your father and I are coming to Washington next month, however. An old colleague of his from way back is retiring and his wife is throwing a retirement party. I’m sure we could swing over your way for a few days. It’s not that far, right?”

  Serena’s heart raced, whether with excitement or dread, she couldn’t tell. “It’s a two hour drive, about.”

  “Is there a decent hotel around there?”

  Oh my. Her mother was serious about this.

  “There’s the Chesapeake Inn. It’s very nice.” A little dated, maybe, but then again she couldn’t picture her parents in some trendy modern place. Her father had always been a Ritz-Carlton kind of guy.

  “Perfect, I’ll book your father and me a suite. Isn’t Cam’s birthday next month?”

  Serena’s heart stopped for a moment. Cam’s birthday? Was it? Cam hadn’t said a word about it.

  He’ll be six. March twenty-fourth.

  Right. Her heart began to beat at a normal pace again. It was a good thing she remembered that. It was like her brain talked to her sometimes.

  “Yes, we’ll do a party,” she said. “Cam will love that.”

  “So will I, sweetheart. I’ll call you when the date gets closer, okay?”

  “Sure … mum.”

  Jeez, my mother remembers Cam’s birthday but I don’t? And why hadn’t Oliver said anything to her? Did he just assume she remembered? Or was he testing her? Her mother had hung up, but Serena’s phone instantly vibrated with a text. It was Chelsea, Cam’s teacher.

  Are you coming today?

  Serena turned and hurried toward the door. Talking to her mother had made her late. She replied to Chelsea’s text. Just outside. Sorry. She pressed the button on the school’s security intercom. As she waited to be buzzed inside, she wondered how on earth she was going to tell Oliver that her parents were coming to visit.

  Chapter 21

  Two days later, Serena received a strange envelope in the mail. At first, she thought it must be from her mother—the envelope was a heavy, woven cotton paper. Pale grey. Expensive-looking. Who else did she know who would use fine stationery? She set her purse down on the small half-moon-shaped foyer table, hung her winter coat on one of the iron hooks on the wall, and flipped through the rest of the mail as she walked to the kitchen.

  She’d been out driving with Ashley, and her nerves were still on edge. Not because of anything Ashley did, but just from the stress of driving. Truth be told, not knowing why she had the accident bothered her as much as it did Oliver. The more she thought about it, the faster her imagination began to run. What if I had a seizure? A mini-stroke? Something that could happen again?

  She dropped the mail onto the kitchen island and climbed up onto one of the stools. She picked up the grey envelope and looked at the back. There was a small return address printed on the flap. Annapolis. So not from her mother. Probably junk mail. She rubbed the paper between her finger and thumb. Expensive junk mail. She slipped her thumb beneath the edge of the flap and tore it open. The sheet of paper inside matched the envelope. She unfolded it.

  It was written in longhand, a neat but quirky mix of printing and cursive. According to Mason’s teacher, the schools didn’t bother teaching cursive anymore.

  That’s a real shame.

  Her thoughts exactly.

  The letter was short. For junk mail, it was very well done. Very convincing. Her eyes dropped down to the signature, expecting to see the name of some washed-up celebrity or minor CEO. Instead, her breath caught in her throat.

  With love, Ben.

  Then she took a deep breath. For a split second there, she’d thought the letter was signed by Ben Wardman. But that couldn’t be. Ben had died. It was probably someone like Ben Affleck or Ben Stiller or Ben Folds or … well, those were the only famous “Bens” she could remember. Someone endorsing some product or other.

  It was short and she had a few minutes before Oliver was due back from his workout at the gym, so she began to read it.

  Dearest Serena …

  Well, the personalization was good.

  If you’re reading this, then my prayers were answered and you recovered from the accident.

  Really … good?

  I am sorry that we did not get the chance to properly say “goodbye” to each other. We all leave this life with things undone. I have run out of time on my own.

  She leaned against the kitchen island to steady her suddenly wobbly legs.

  I’m writing to ask you a favor.

  She sunk to the kitchen floor, her legs too weak to stand.

  Mine and Ashley’s wedding anniversary is March 4th. Obviously, this will be a difficult day for her. It would have been our sixth anniversary. I don’t want her spending the day sitting at home and grieving. So could you do something with her that day? Distract her, keep her mind off of it. Don’t tell her I asked you to, please.

  March 4th was two weeks away.

  I know this is an odd request, but it would ease my mind to know that you will be there for her.

  With love, Ben

  It really was a letter from Ben Wardman.

  P.S. Don’t wait for the time to be right, Serena.

  She sat there, stunned, until the front door opened and Oliver walked in.

  “Babe!” He ran over to her. “Are you okay? Did you fall?”

  She shook her head. The letter had slipped from her fingers some minutes ago and was lying on the floor next to her knee. Oliver knelt down and picked it up.

  “What’s this?” He read it through. “Where did this come from?”

  “It came in the mail.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not funny.”

  He stood and plucked the envelope from the island. He scanned the return address, then disappeared into the den. Serena heard the soft chime of his laptop booting up. A minute later, he returned to the kitchen.

&nbs
p; “The address is for an attorney in Annapolis.”

  “Guess it’s real, then.”

  “He wrote this before he died and had an attorney mail it now? I’m sorry, but that’s more than a little creepy.”

  “I think it’s rather sweet. He was planning ahead and thinking about helping Ashley cope.”

  The expression on Oliver’s face was one of skepticism. “Well, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to?” She pushed herself up onto her feet, then stood. “Ash is my friend. And if Ben went to all this trouble when he was sick, it seems like the least I can do is carry out his wishes.”

  Oliver stretched out his long body on the cot. He was in the station’s break room. Overnight shift. He squirmed on the thin mattress for a minute, listening to the labored groan of the worn springs and trying to find a comfortable spot.

  “We need to replace these things,” he said to Matt, who was lying on the next cot over.

  “Maybe there’ll be a little money left over after we build the new station.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Yup.”

  They lay there in silence for awhile, Oliver studying water stains on the ceiling that he’d known by heart since he was a kid.

  “So Serena got a letter from Ben Wardman today,” he said, at long last.

  “Come again?”

  “Serena got a letter from Ben. He wrote it before he died and his attorney mailed it out.”

  “That’s … weird?”

  “I’ll say. His and Ashley’s wedding anniversary is March 4th, apparently. He wants Serena to spend the day with her. Keep her from dwelling on it.”

  “Huh. Well, he’s a good husband—even in death.”

  Yeah, raising the bar for husbands everywhere. Oliver kept that thought to himself. He had practically memorized the entire letter. Granted, it was short. And to the point. But then there was that P.S. A postscript.