by David Bell
Was she talking about life with Henry? Our lives as new parents?
Or something else?
I remembered the way she said my name at home when I was going up the stairs . . . and the way the thought remained unexpressed and unfinished.
What was going on with her?
“I know,” I said. “But we’re getting the hang of it, aren’t we?”
“Are we? I’m not sure. . . .”
“Of course we are—”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I think I am.”
“Look, I’m going to read my book, but I may be asleep when you get home.”
She then hung up without saying good-bye.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blake rented one half of a redbrick duplex on the east side of town. He’d lived there for the past three years, ever since he moved from Lexington, where he’d been living near his parents, to Rossingville to take a job as a salesman for an auto parts manufacturer. I hadn’t been thrilled when he moved to Rossingville, where I’d been living ever since college. I’d just gotten engaged to Amanda when Blake came to town. I had hoped to leave those events and memories from college behind, especially anything having to do with the accident.
For the most part, we avoided discussing that. Yes, we met for the occasional beer. And once we took a guys’ trip down to Nashville for a bland, booze-soaked weekend of watching football, which I regretted pretty much as soon as I checked into the hotel. But mostly we interacted as adults. And Blake seemed to do well at his job, his ability to talk anybody into anything clearly a huge benefit for a salesman. When he and Samantha were in the “on” portion of their on-and-off relationship, Blake came as close to being a normal member of society as I’d ever seen him.
I’d never received a clear answer about why Blake left Lexington and took the job in Rossingville. Sometimes he said it was a great opportunity, too good to pass up. Once or twice he alluded to his father taking early retirement from his corporate job, but he was vague about why. Blake’s dad was a classic workaholic, and I never imagined that he would leave his job when he was only in his late fifties. His dad’s decision to step down seemed to have coincided with Blake’s acceptance of the job in Rossingville.
The driveway in front of his half of the duplex was empty, and a lone light burned upstairs in the bedroom. The night had grown colder, the wind picking up. I still wore shorts, and I shivered as I walked up to the front of the house and rang the bell.
I left Jennifer’s phone in the car for the time being. It was like an explosive device I didn’t want to be caught holding when it blew. I’d seen enough to tell me I needed—really needed—to talk to Blake.
I waited with my hands in my pockets, my shoulders hunched to stay warm. The street was quiet, no neighbors in sight. I hit the bell again, pressing with as much force as I could muster, as though that might make the bell ring louder and summon Blake more quickly.
But I started to accept what I’d known all along—he wasn’t home.
And I had no idea what he was doing.
I rang one more time and was about to walk away when I heard the lock being undone. I perked up, hopeful, and when the door swung inward, I saw Samantha standing there in a T-shirt, old sweatpants, and no shoes, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.
She didn’t look particularly surprised or dismayed by someone showing up on her doorstep late at night.
“Oh, Ryan, hey,” she said. “I almost didn’t answer. I thought it was kids playing a prank. No one comes to the door without calling.”
“Is Blake home?”
I wanted to ask if they were living together. As she leaned against the doorjamb, her hand resting on her hip, I took a quick glance to see if an engagement ring decorated her finger, but I saw nothing.
“I don’t know where he is, Ryan,” she said. Sam usually spoke in a precise manner, her thoughts measured and orderly. But when I arrived at the house that night, she rambled a bit, her thoughts jumping from one to another without any noticeable connective tissue. “He was supposed to work late. And he needs to buy his mom a birthday present. Did you hear he stopped drinking?”
“I heard.”
“Were you supposed to meet him or something?”
“Kind of.”
Samantha remained in the doorway. She worked as a kindergarten teacher at a public school, and she always carried herself with the determined enthusiasm and peppiness that job no doubt required. It was too easy for me to joke—but I did anyway—that she was the perfect woman for Blake since she worked with five-year-olds all day.
But that night a measure of her usual easygoing cheer and ready smile was absent. She looked like I’d interrupted her in the middle of something. I knew she tended to work late, preparing lesson plans and classroom projects. Or maybe I’d rung the bell while she was starting to doze off. She rubbed at her eye absentmindedly, a gesture that made her look like a small child.
“Okay,” I said. “Well, can you tell him I came by?”
She stepped back then. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you come in? I was just—I was surprised when I heard the bell ring. I didn’t know what was going on. I have to work tomorrow, of course, and I was organizing some things upstairs. But I guess you have to work too. By the way, how’s Henry?”
“Am I interrupting your work?”
“No, it’s okay. My mind is just . . . It’s got a lot going on.”
She talked as she walked back into the house, leaving the door open, so I followed her. She went into the living room and turned on two lamps, which cast soft light over the space, and then she took a seat on the couch. I followed her in, feeling a nervous energy urging me on.
“He’s good,” I said. “Getting bigger every day. And now his teeth are coming in.”
“I love all the photos you post. You’re so good at it. I feel like a failure at that kind of stuff. Maybe I can take a class or something. And Blake’s no help. You know he refuses to do any of that.”
It hit me I hadn’t said anything about the wedding.
“Oh,” I said, “Blake told me the good news. Congratulations.”
For the first time, her full smile appeared, bright and warm, deep dimples standing out on her flushed cheeks. “Oh, yeah. Thanks! I know it’s all kind of last-minute, but we’ve worked some things out. And neither of us wants to wait anymore. This spot at the Barn was open, and while I would have been happy to take our time and plan, plan, plan . . . You know how I am, right? Well, Blake just told me we should go for it. Get married, grab the brass ring. So we’re doing it. Saturday.”
“I get it. You guys know each other well now.”
She suddenly turned more serious than I’d ever seen her. “And, Ryan, I’m so sorry you and Amanda weren’t invited. I mean, I tried to talk to Blake about it. I did. But he’s still kind of peeved about the thing with Amanda. You know, the thing with Henry and the lampshade.”
“It’s okay—”
“No, it totally isn’t.” She scooted to the edge of the couch, her face serious. “I wanted to call Amanda and tell her, but you’re here now, so I can tell you. Please just come, the two of you, on Saturday. Just come. Blake wants you there. I know he does. And you know I love Amanda. She’s so great, such a great friend. She reminds me so much of my friends from college. Smart. Hardworking. But fun too. She said a lot of harsh things about Blake. I know that. But hey, maybe I’d do the same thing if someone bonked my baby’s head. That’s what I like about Amanda. She’s so tough. So fierce. I get it.”
“Sam, I’m not worried about it. We just want you guys to be happy.”
She placed her hands against her cheeks, and the flush deepened. “But that’s just it, Ryan. I’m not sure Blake is happy. He hasn’t been acting like himself the last few days. He needs you, Ryan. That’s why I’m a little flummoxed tonig
ht. All over the place. I’m worried. Worried he might start to drink again. Or . . . Look, he really needs you in his life. More than ever.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Samantha lowered her hands from her face and placed them on the tops of her thighs, they were shaking. I’d never noticed that she chewed her nails, but they were gnawed to nubs. Her smile was long gone, her lips pressed tight together.
I sat in a leather recliner across from her.
“Do you want something?” she asked. “A beer or whatever? I was having some wine earlier. A couple glasses, actually . . . Blake wasn’t home, and I’ve been laying off when he’s around.”
“I’m good. What’s going on with him that has you so worried?”
She puffed her cheeks and let out a long sigh. “The last six weeks or so have been tough. He’s been kind of distracted, short-tempered. ‘Erratic’ is maybe a better word.”
“Erratic?”
“I mean, more than usual, you know?” She smiled with little cheer. “I thought it was the wedding. You know, we’re throwing all of this together fast. It’s stressful and busy. My mom and my sister are helping. Blake’s family isn’t coming down until tomorrow. But, you know, his unhappiness seems deeper than the wedding. And it started before we were engaged. He seems more on edge. Sometimes it’s like he’s electrified, and if you touch him, you get a shock. I guess I’m the one getting shocked. I feel awful about what I think sometimes.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
She took in a deep breath. “I wish he’d have a drink. Just one. A small one.” She held her thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Something to soothe him. Or maybe some weed. I thought about buying some from a student teacher at work. Do those thoughts make me a horrible person? Am I an asshole for saying that?”
“Not at all. He’s certainly more fun when he drinks.”
“What were you and Blake supposed to meet about tonight?”
I scrambled to come up with a believable answer. “I think we were just going to get coffee or something like that. No beer, you know.”
“And he stood you up?”
“Maybe I got my wires crossed.”
“He’s not home. I can tell you that. This late at night, and he’s not home. It happens sometimes because he’s working late, but so close to the wedding? I moved most of my stuff in here, but we want to buy a house. We’re going to do that soon. My parents are going to give us a down payment as a wedding present. We want to buy something south of town, something that’s new construction.”
“Did you try calling him?” I asked.
“No. I don’t want to be that kind of fiancée, the one who checks in all the time. Maybe that’s the last thing he needs right now. But you know how this has gone in the past. How he gets scared. He freaks out about being committed forever. How do you deal with someone like that? In the past, I might have pushed, but then I feel like I’m driving him away. So I’m trying to be laid-back and chill, but maybe he doesn’t need that. I feel stuck in the middle.”
“I understand. It’s like feeding a skittish animal.”
“Although when we got back together this last time and decided to get married, he promised he’d communicate better. That was part of the reason he stopped drinking. To be more focused, to be more responsible and thoughtful. And he had been for a while, up until the last few weeks. I don’t want to overreact to one night. Maybe he just needs some time to himself.”
“Well, I’m sure—”
“When did you talk to him? If you knew about the wedding, that means you talked to him. When was that?”
“Earlier this evening,” I said.
“And what did he seem like?”
I thought about my answer, and it was an honest one. “Same as ever. No, I don’t mean that. Not exactly. I can tell he’s healthier. Clearer.”
When Samantha spoke again, her voice carried a sharp edge, something I didn’t think I’d ever heard from her before. I worried I’d offended her. “See, that’s just it, Ryan. He is different now. People don’t want to give him credit for that, but he’s different. He’s grown-up. He works hard. He’s good to me. You only see the guy you went to college with. We all do that with people we’ve known a long time.”
“That’s true, but—”
“You should see when he comes to my school and helps with the kids. They love him. They climb all over him. He has that gentle side. He’s very loving. You’ve seen that, right?”
I had to admit I had. College. The time after my dad’s death. Even later than that . . . When Amanda and I got married, he managed to track down a set of vintage dishes—Franciscan Starburst—that Amanda had mentioned wanting once in passing and he gave them to us as a wedding gift. How he remembered that detail and then acted upon it, I’ll never know.
I didn’t have any uncles I was close to . . . and no brothers. In the days leading up to the wedding, Blake had played the part of best friend and big brother and even a little of father, since mine was gone. It was Blake who made a sentimental toast at the rehearsal dinner, Blake who again helped me tie my tie, Blake who walked my mom down the aisle and danced with her at the reception. . . .
“Are you sure you don’t know where he is?” I asked, hoping my question would jar her into thinking of something she’d overlooked. I didn’t want to think the worst, and neither did Sam. “Do you have a guess?”
She looked away. I thought her chin started to quiver, but she quickly got it together and turned back to me.
“He’ll be home soon. He will. He’s probably working. And he’s not drinking. I have to trust him. Oh, Ryan. Just a few days ago, I woke up, and he’d left me the most beautiful note on my pillow. He does that stuff all the time. Flowers, notes. He sent my grandma chocolates on her eighty-fifth birthday last week. I almost forgot her birthday, but not Blake. When we get married, my dad is going to hire Blake on at his company.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t know if you heard, but Blake’s dad has been having money problems.”
“He is? I thought he was loaded when he retired.”
Sam looked like she didn’t want to go on. She turned her head one way and then the other as though someone in the room might have been listening. Then she said, “Maybe not. Some kind of big problem at the company went down. I don’t know all the details, but there are a lot of lawsuits flying around, and the stock is tanking and taking a big bite out of his net worth. It’s been building slowly for a few years.”
“I didn’t know. I thought his family was set for another generation or two.”
Sam nodded. “Blake thought so too. But in a way, it was good when his dad started having problems a few years ago. It forced Blake to be on his own more. He couldn’t count on his parents for everything the way he had been. And when he moved here, we met.”
“Sure.”
“So my family’s help is really going to matter. My dad has started warming up to Blake. They actually make jokes with each other now. They go fishing, Ryan.”
“Fishing? Blake?”
“He loves it. And Dad’s help will set us up for having a family. Like you guys have. A baby like Henry. A nice house.” She smiled again, her eyes brightening. “That’s what we both want. And it’s right within reach now. More than ever.”
I wasn’t sure there was anything else I could say to her. And I sat in the one place I knew Blake wasn’t. And I wondered if he had any plans to come home at all. If he’d hurt Jennifer, if he was on the run from something and not telling Sam . . .
He might never come back. He could have been driving away to a new life somewhere as Sam and I spoke.
I shook my head, although Sam wouldn’t know what it meant. It couldn’t be that. Blake was a lot of things . . . good and bad. But a killer? No way.
“Those are good things to have,” I said. “They really are.”
“I th
ink so too.”
I stood up, and Sam walked with me to the door.
“Thanks for asking us to come to the wedding,” I said. “You know, just earlier Amanda was saying she needed to move on from the thing with Henry. She’s been trying to work on forgiving and letting go. A lot of it stems from her sister’s death, trying to move on from things and accept them. So I think that might be why she’s trying to see Blake in a different light. It’s healthier . . . to move on.”
“I know,” she said. “And I know her sister’s death still hurts. Why wouldn’t it? That probably makes her even more overprotective of Henry. Right? Besides being a new mom.”
“Sure. New parents are pretty overprotective. I am too.”
Sam leaned against the wall of the foyer and looked thoughtful, her arms crossed. “I remember when Amanda told me about her sister. It was tough for her to talk about, but I felt like we were closer after that. She’d shared something deep and personal with me. It means something when people share in that way.”
“She wouldn’t talk about that with just anyone,” I said. And it was true. Amanda distrusted sentimental feelings. She wouldn’t share something deeply personal like her sister’s death unless she really cared about the other person. “She values your friendship.”
“Ugh.” Sam shook her head. “Then Blake and the baby . . . that derailed everything. He loves kids, Ryan. He really does. He says he wants to have a houseful.”
“He always said that. Even in college.”
“I’ll call Amanda,” she said. “I will. She and I need to talk. I’m so glad to hear that she was open to Blake. That just . . . It makes my heart feel good. It really does. I hate negativity. That’s why I hate my own thoughts being negative. I’m going to shake it off. All of it. At the very least, we can all get together after the wedding.”
After the wedding . . .
To hear her making plans when she had no idea what Blake might have been involved in.
“Right,” I said. “And if you see him—I mean when you see him—will you tell him to call me? I’d really like to talk to him.”