Just Once

by Lori Handeland

  Hannah felt starched up and stupid. As a result, her answer came out sounding very stick-in-the-mud. ‘I don’t make a habit of that.’

  ‘I’m sure Charley made it a habit enough for both of you,’ Frankie said.

  Hannah didn’t bother to answer; they both knew it was true. Though Charley had tried his best to let her know where he was going – or at least that he’d left – after the first time she’d lost it when he’d disappeared, believing he was dead on the street, or perhaps in someone else’s bed.

  Being the other woman made you sensitive to the fact that there could be another ‘other woman’ along soon. As far as she knew, there never had been. Until now.

  Could Frankie be the other woman when she was the original woman? The only woman?

  Charley sat in the kitchen, a laptop computer open in front of him. His back was to them; ear buds trailed out of his ears and connected to the computer. All his hair was gone. The back of his bare neck seemed so alien, so vulnerable, so not Charley.

  ‘Checking email?’ Hannah’s voice was so full of hope she embarrassed herself, but if he remembered email then maybe he’d remember her.

  Frankie shook her head. ‘He thinks I’ve got a prototype computer and camera. He’s fascinated with digital photography.’

  ‘He owns the most recent digital camera there is.’

  ‘Yeah, try explaining that to him. You’re welcome to my migraine.’

  ‘How does he explain the digital cameras in his camera bag?’

  ‘By insisting they aren’t his and neither is the bag. Someone switched it when he was on the plane.’

  ‘He’s never let his camera bag out of his sight as long as I’ve known him,’ Hannah said. ‘How could someone have switched them?’

  ‘I never said his explanations made sense.’ Frankie tapped her forehead. ‘Brain tumor.’

  ‘It’s not getting smaller?’

  ‘He had another CT scan.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘How’d that go for him?’

  ‘They sedated him this time, so not a problem. We’ll get the results at his appointment with Dr Lanier on Monday. I was hoping maybe you’d stay for that.’

  ‘You were hoping maybe I’d stay?’ Hannah repeated. ‘Wow, alternate universe.’

  Frankie’s lips twitched. ‘Welcome to my nightmare.’

  Charley chose that moment to turn as he removed his ear buds. ‘Fancy, did you see …?’ His eyes first widened, then narrowed on Hannah. ‘What in holy hell is she doing here?’

  ‘Shit,’ Frankie muttered.

  Hannah said nothing. Either the tumor hadn’t shrunk, or it hadn’t shrunk enough, or shrinking it wasn’t going to do any good.

  Besides, the sight of Charley rendered her speechless. Not only was he scowling at her with real dislike, but he looked even worse from the front – exhausted, pale, his shoulders stooped like an old man’s.

  ‘Charley, remember that I told you a friend was coming to stay with us?’

  Confusion filtered over his face, and Hannah had to fight not to cry again. Charley was never confused. He was the most certain person she’d ever known. Even in the aftermath of Lisa’s death, then Heath’s, then his divorce, he’d always moved forward with the air of a man who knew his path and would blaze it regardless of any setbacks.

  Because of him, she liked to think she’d become that kind of woman too.

  ‘She’s your friend?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t … uh … recognize her at all?’

  Charley peered at Hannah, then he reached for his glasses and peered at her some more.

  She stared back, searching for a flicker of recognition.

  ‘Now that you mention it …’

  Hannah’s breath caught. Hope flared, bright and hot in her chest. She set her hand there, trying to keep it safe.

  Charley took off his glasses. ‘She’s the one I thought was nuts. Kept saying I was her husband, but then you told me that was a ruse so she could be there with us. We don’t need anyone but us, Fancy.’ His eyes narrowed on Hannah. ‘You can go.’

  Hannah’s hand fell back to her side as hope died.

  ‘All righty then.’ Frankie’s voice was overly cheerful, just as Hannah’s had been. ‘I asked Hannah to come. She’s isn’t going anywhere.’

  Charley shrugged.

  He was awfully agreeable. It made Hannah twitchy.

  ‘I’m going to go out for a bit and my friend’s going to stay here with you.’

  Hannah thought if Frankie called her a friend one more time she might lose it.

  ‘Whoa.’ Hannah put her hand up like a traffic cop. ‘You nuts?’

  ‘Not me.’ Frankie snatched her purse and headed for the door.

  ‘Wait! What should I …?’ She glanced over her shoulder.

  Charley had returned his attention to the computer and the ear buds to his ears.

  ‘What should I do with him?’

  ‘You never had a problem doing anything with him before. What’s the big deal now?’

  ‘He isn’t who he was before.’

  ‘Maybe all he needs is a little time with you to find his way back.’

  ‘You know that’s not true.’

  ‘I don’t know that at all and neither do you. Can’t hurt to try.’ Frankie set her hand on Hannah’s arm, then frowned at it as if she were as startled by the gesture as Hannah was and pulled back. ‘I’m going to the grocery store, maybe the bookstore. I’ll be back in a few hours. If you need me, all you have to do is call. Around here, nothing is far enough away to prevent me from getting back toot-sweet. OK?’

  If she said no would Frankie stay? Could she be that weak?

  Hannah straightened her spine. She’d learned not to be.

  ‘OK.’

  Frankie practically ran out the door.

  Hannah set down her Fendi carry-on and strolled around the cabin. Her heels clicked so loudly on the hardwood floors she kicked them off. She shrugged out of her jacket, which had been comfortable in the air-conditioned car but was no longer in a cabin that appeared to have been built in the age of no air conditioning and was proud of it.

  Two of the bedrooms seemed to be in use and Hannah exhaled. Did she think they were sleeping together? What if they were? Charley thought they were married.

  Frankie knew better.

  Of course, Hannah had known better too, back when she’d started sleeping with Charley, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. What if Frankie couldn’t help herself? Who was Hannah to throw stones?

  Except she’d like to. She still loved him. She would always love him.

  Their life together had not been what she’d hoped. There had always been the shadow of Frankie, of Lisa, of Heath. There had been his career; there had been hers. There had been guilt, sadness and recriminations. But there had also been moments of happiness if not joy, shared goals, success, a family – of two, yes, but still a family. They’d managed; they’d made it. Or she’d thought they had.

  Now this. It wasn’t fair.

  Hannah made a soft sound of amusement. What was? Very little in her experience.

  ‘Are you going to stare at my back all day?’ Charley asked as he removed one ear bud.

  ‘How did you …?’

  ‘Reflection in the screen.’ He pointed to the computer. ‘Come on over and take a look at these if you want.’

  She had to admit she was curious to see if his photographs reflected the changes in him. Certainly he’d always been crazy-talented but his talent had evolved and she believed she could tell the difference between a shot he’d taken twenty years ago and one he’d taken last week.

  Hannah had become a very good photo editor – of fashion, true, the thought could still make her cringe – but she had an eye, a knack, the touch. Not a good enough touch to make You what Heath had dreamed of, but she’d kept it going this long, and she knew without doubt or conceit that she’d done so with her vision – that indefinable knack.

  Hannah sat in the kitc
hen chair to his right, and Charley spun the computer so she could see what he’d pulled up on the screen.

  Dozens of shots of a sunset. Very unlike him. Certainly Charley had photographed sunsets but they usually backlit a bombed-out crater or the carcass of a poached rhino.

  She nearly asked if they were Frankie’s, but there was something about the angle that reminded her of twenty-years-ago Charley.

  And then again it didn’t.

  ‘Do you like them?’

  ‘I … do. Got any more?’

  He hit a key on the keyboard and the screen filled with images of water – blue, green, white and black.

  Huh. She pulled the computer closer. They were all the same body of water. She lifted her gaze. The one out there, visible from this window. But at different times of the day and the night. Also, more a photograph Frankie might take, and yet it wasn’t.

  ‘These all yours?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ His shoulders shifted. ‘No. Well, sometimes Frankie has to help me steady my hands.’ He lifted them and they shook.

  ‘Oh,’ Hannah whispered.

  ‘Taking these pictures together has been interesting. I never thought I’d be able to share the act of photography with anyone, even Frankie. But she’s so gifted.’

  Jealousy flared. Hannah could edit pictures but she’d never been able to produce any that didn’t resemble the snapshots they were.

  ‘If you can’t keep the camera steady then how …?’

  ‘Either she holds my hands and we take the picture together, or I tell her what I see, then she frames it and pushes the shutter.’

  The jealousy flared even hotter. Charley would never have asked Hannah to do that for him, even if he’d remembered who the hell she was. His vision was his vision. Never anyone else’s.

  ‘Frankie’s been a rock. I love her so much.’

  No crying. No crying. No.

  ‘And Lisa. I can’t wait until she gets here. You’ll like her.’

  ‘Charley, Lisa is …’

  Charley tilted his head, waiting.

  Hannah cleared her throat of the truth. She couldn’t tell him. Had Frankie even tried?

  ‘Lisa’s wonderful, I’m sure.’

  How did Frankie stand it? Every word had to be a dagger.

  ‘Check out these.’ Charley clicked a key again.

  Picture after picture of him, of Frankie, of him and Frankie now filled the screen. Smiling, laughing. Their faces when they looked at each other … Talk about a dagger.

  Did Frankie know that she’d fallen in love with him again? Or maybe she still loved him, had always loved him. Just as he had always loved her. All it had taken was brain cancer to get them back together.

  Hannah stood so fast her chair teetered, and she had to set her hand on the back of it to make it stop.

  Perhaps Frankie did know, or at least suspect. Maybe that’s what her hustle-hurry to get out of here had been about.

  ‘Lunch,’ she said. ‘You want some?’

  Charley’s blue-blue eyes contemplated her, and for an instant she thought he saw more than she wanted him to before those eyes flicked back to the screen. ‘I could eat.’

  Considering how thin he was, she decided she’d better get as much food into him as she could while she could.

  She started opening cupboards, peered into the refrigerator. There wasn’t much there. At least Frankie hadn’t been lying about the grocery store.

  ‘Mac and cheese?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  Charley’s gaze was once again riveted to the computer, on the photographs of him and Frankie together. He reached out a hand that trembled badly and ran a finger over Frankie’s face.

  Hannah busied herself heating the water. Then watched until the water boiled. Just like the adage, because she was watching the water took forever to heat.

  There was something about those pictures that reminded her of the ones Charley had taken of Heath. Which made no sense because they weren’t similar at all, except for the ones of Charley getting thinner, paler, weaker.

  Charley didn’t know it, maybe Frankie didn’t either, but they’d been recording his illness, maybe his death, as well, and that gave Hannah an idea.

  They ate together, the silence between them louder because there had rarely been silence between them. The time they’d spent together had been full of words – descriptions of where he’d been, what he’d done, stories of You and the people there. One thing they’d never lacked was conversation. Now Hannah couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  Charley only ate half the bowl and when she urged him to eat it all, he got up and went outside. Concerned, she followed. What if he walked into the trees and he didn’t come back? What if he went into the water and …

  Charley cast her a narrow-eyed glare. ‘I don’t need a sitter.’

  ‘I just thought I’d … uh … where are you going?’

  ‘To the dock. You’ll be able to see me from the window. Don’t worry.’

  She spent the next two hours watching Charley watch the water. The Charley she knew had been in constant motion. He never sat still that long. He never stared at anything for more than a few seconds before he snatched a camera and recorded it forever.

  She wished she had a friend to call, but she didn’t. Or at least not a friend with whom she could share this. She’d had two best friends in her life – Heath and Charley. And they were both gone.

  The door opened. Paper bags rustled.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘Peachy.’

  The bags clunked on to the counter. Frankie joined her at the window.

  ‘He does this a lot?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Is several hours a day and sometimes in the middle of the night a lot?’ Frankie sighed. ‘Yeah, a lot.’

  ‘Middle of the night?’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘Sometimes I wake up and he’s not in his bed. I find him on the dock in the dark. It always freaks me out.’

  ‘Why does he go there?’

  Frankie’s gaze didn’t waver from Charley. ‘You know why.’

  The silence that settled between them stretched out for so long, Hannah wanted to end it, but she didn’t know how.

  ‘Wine?’ Frankie headed for the bags on the counter.

  Hannah was liking Frankie more and more. They might have been friends if not for … well, everything.

  She glanced at the nautical clock, which read 3:00 p.m. ‘Isn’t it early?’

  Frankie removed a bottle of white sangria from a bag. ‘In Door County on the weekends, early is before noon and sometimes not even then.’

  ‘In that case, I’d love some.’ Hannah moved into the kitchen and started unpacking the bags before she remembered that she didn’t know where anything went, except for the milk, eggs, cheese and the like. She started putting them away.

  Frankie pulled out a cutting board and sliced peaches and plums, tossing a few into wine glasses that resembled small bowls before pouring sangria to the rim.

  ‘You’re my kind of woman,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Understandable since we married the same man.’ Frankie handed Hannah a glass.

  ‘Wouldn’t that make us opposites?’

  Frankie took a big slug of wine. ‘I have no idea.’

  Hannah sipped hers. ‘Me neither.’

  They took the bottle on to the deck, where they could watch Charley watch the water.

  ‘If he doesn’t remember Lisa’s gone, then why is he staring at the place where she went?’ Hannah asked halfway through her second serving. She’d never have brought up Lisa otherwise.

  ‘It’s a mystery.’ Frankie topped off their glasses.

  ‘You’re awfully calm about all of this.’

  ‘I learned not to get worked up over stuff oh … about twenty-four years ago.’

  ‘That was when I started getting worked up about stuff.’ Though she’d made sure no one but herself ever knew about it.

  ‘Understandable.
’ Frankie sipped her drink. ‘Charley can make anyone crazy.’

  ‘Sometimes you sound like you hate him.’

  ‘I do.’ Frankie frowned. ‘Did.’

  Hannah opened her mouth to say she’d seen the pictures of them together and did Frankie know she actually loved him again, then snapped her lips shut. She hadn’t had enough sangria for that conversation. She wasn’t certain there was enough sangria for that conversation.

  ‘We need to make a plan.’ Frankie picked up the bottle, let out a forlorn sigh when she saw it was empty.

  ‘For?’ Hannah’s breathing became shallow as she waited for Frankie to bring up plans for Charley’s exchange of custody, which would only happen when he was so close to death he couldn’t run away from the woman he’d lived with for over two decades, whom he didn’t even know.

  ‘Dinner.’ Frankie set down the empty bottle with a thunk. ‘I vote we order Wild Tomato Pizza. Best in the world. Wood grilled. The vegetarian is so amazing you won’t even miss the meat.’

  ‘Have you had New York pizza?’

  ‘Doesn’t compare.’

  Hannah finished off her sangria. ‘Then I got to get me some of that.’

  Charley drove since Hannah and Frankie were a little sloshed.

  ‘Is he OK to drive?’ Hannah whispered as they headed for the car.

  ‘He remembers driving. He just doesn’t remember you.’

  ‘There’s a lot more than me he doesn’t remember.’

  ‘Touché.’ Frankie gave a little salute.

  Hannah was nervous on the way to the restaurant, but Charley did remember driving, and he’d always been good at parking in tight spaces, which turned out to be necessary as everyone in the county seemed to be at Wild Tomato on a Saturday night.

  By the time they went to bed at the unreasonable hour of 9:00 p.m., Hannah deemed the day a success. Charley hadn’t called her crazy. She and Frankie hadn’t argued. No one had punched anyone in the mouth. But the night was young.

  A muffled shout woke her. Hannah stared at the ceiling trying to remember whose ceiling it was.

  ‘The South Tower’s falling,’ Charley called.