Sweethearts Old

by Rachel A Andersen

  Declan caught Helen’s gaze as he mouthed the words thank you.

  A sad smile touched the corners of her lips before she ducked into the kitchen.

  DECLAN FLIPPED THROUGH the mail as he settled onto the couch for the evening. He was exhausted, but in a way that felt productive. Satisfaction settled over him for the first time in months as he bathed his kids and tucked them into bed. More rewarding than blindly existing.

  As he caught sight of a postcard reminder of his high school reunion next month, his phone vibrated, and he brought it to his ear without looking at the screen to see who it was. “Hello.”

  “You have some nerve.”

  Declan set the mail down as he turned his attention fully to the call at hand. “Liam?”

  Something thudded on the phone line like his brother-in-law had punched the counter. “Mom called me. Said you didn't need her anymore.”

  Declan rubbed his eyes. He should have expected this. Helen had been quiet. Too quiet to be okay with what he’d proposed. “Liam, it’s not what you think.”

  “What I think is that you handed over the running of your household to my mother for almost a year, and when she had to take one day off, you kicked her to the curb.”

  Declan winced. “Doesn’t sound great when you put it that way, does it?”

  Liam huffed. “And how exactly would you put it?”

  “Liam, I need to take charge of my life again. Your mom taking the day off was just the first hint to me that I’d put it off for too long.”

  “Because your kids love their grandmother.”

  “No. Because my kids depended on her like she was their parent.” Declan ran a hand through his hair. It felt thinner than he remembered with the stress and grief of the last year. “Losing Angie almost killed me, Liam. But it’s time that I faced that fact that she’s gone, and I’m still here. I just needed your mom to step back a little so I can move on.”

  Liam breathed heavily on the other side of the conversation, and Declan couldn’t tell if he was trying to keep his grief in check or if he was trying to exercise his way out of the pain. “So, what you’re saying is that one day, you’re going to do this to my mother again? That someday, you’ll walk through the door with a new bride, and you will tell her you need her to back off so you can put the past behind you.”

  Declan’s throat tightened. “You’re about six steps ahead of where I am, Liam. Right now, I just need to be a more active parent. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, but thinking about moving on from your wife’s death means thinking about remarrying. Maybe only generally, but that’s enough.”

  The anger which Declan had been trying to keep at bay all day threatened to boil over. Anger at Angie for leaving. Anger at Helen for trying to take Angie’s place. Anger at himself for letting her. Now, Liam tried to tell him what he’d been thinking, tried to make him feel guilty for finally stepping out of the darkness again. “Who exactly made you an expert in being a widower, Liam?”

  “Look, man, I don’t care that you’re moving on—”

  Declan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “—but you’re acting like we put you in a prison. I’m here to tell you that your cage was unlocked the whole time. You could have freed yourself long before now.”

  Take a deep breath.

  Declan looked up, almost able to see the ghost of his wife in the living room as if she was standing beside him. If she’d been there, she would have reminded him that anger would only make the problem worse. He imagined her placing a hand on his shoulder as she mirrored a deep, cleansing breath.

  That’s it. That’s better.

  Though he knew he couldn’t expel all of his grief with a breath, his memory reminded him that he could relieve himself of some measure of his pain. He exhaled slowly, the act grounding him more fully in the present moment. “Liam, I take full responsibility for letting your mom take over. It was easier than facing life without Angie. Maybe it’s not right, but that’s what I needed from your parents—and your mother in particular—over the last year. Now, I need the space to figure out what the new normal is going to look like.”

  He sank onto the couch, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he expressed the thoughts which had circled through his mind over the last few hours. “I thought your mom understood that before she left.”

  There was silence for a moment before Liam spoke again, calmer himself. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  Declan caught sight of a spot on his shirt which he tried to smudge out with his thumb. Maybe it was spaghetti sauce? Or evidence of Luke’s bloody nose ten minutes before dinner? In either case, he didn’t want it to stain. He grabbed a washcloth from the downstairs bathroom and ran it under cold water. “I can’t promise that I’m going to do this with any degree of dignity. I’ll be downright clumsy, I’m sure.”

  Liam chuckled. “Going to be clumsy? I think that ship has sailed.”

  Declan’s lips thinned into a grim smile. “Okay, fine. I could have handled things better with your mom today. I just knew that if I didn’t get it out, however imperfect, it might be another year before I even tried. This moving on thing takes a lot more courage than anyone realizes.”

  Declan could almost picture Liam’s grudging agreement, and something about that made him smile. Maybe it was remembering all the times Angie had laughed at her brother’s insistent grumpiness. In any case, it was one of the sweet moments which had made this day more hopeful and bearable than many of his yesterdays.

  “Look, what I said about thinking about remarriage. It was out of line.”

  Declan shrugged. “Yeah, but not entirely without merit. I think I realized today that I don’t want my life to be over.”

  His eye caught on the reunion postcard, and he turned it over in his hand as if it was a playing card in a magic trick. “My high school reunion is in a couple weeks. I wasn’t going to go, but I don’t know. Maybe this is one way to capitalize on my momentum.”

  He waited for Liam to make some snide comment about not taking long enough to grieve for Angie, but silence awaited him instead.

  “You should go.”

  Declan’s eyebrow twitched upward. “What?”

  “Angie would want you to go.”

  Declan waited for the other shoe to drop. He couldn’t have heard what he thought he’d just heard.

  Liam must have found the silence amusing because there was a snort, almost like he’d tried to cover up laughter. “Yeah. I said it.”

  “Is this an attempt at reverse psychology?”

  Liam snickered. “You think I’m smart enough to pull that off?”

  It felt good to smile, really smile, again as Liam settled into the brotherly banter they typically enjoyed. “Yeah, I guess it was a long shot.”

  Liam’s amusement faded into the same somber tone from earlier. “All I meant was that you’re right. Angie would want you to be happy. If going to this reunion is that first step, you should take it. I’ll watch the kids.”

  Declan cleared his throat, touched by his brother-in-law’s offer. “Thanks. I’ll think it over and let you know.”

  Chapter Three

  Marissa

  “You know, I have to admit. I couldn’t see what you meant when you said you needed to get your own place.”

  Marissa turned a smile to her sister, who was back as promised for her Labor Day visit. “And now?”

  Cassie took stock of the open concept living room and kitchen, painted a calming sage all the way through with white crown molding running the length of the rooms. A new, coordinated sectional and armchair set peeked out from the stacks of boxes, just waiting to be staged around the stone fireplace.

  In the kitchen, a simple rectangular dining table and four fabric dining chairs sat on the other side of a breakfast bar. Though the room was lit only with lamps and light fixtures because it was past nine in the evening, the front and the back walls of the house were filled with enormous windows and glass doors which
would let in lots of natural light even on gray days. “It suits you better.”

  Marissa crossed her arms as she surveyed her domain, a sense of satisfaction settling over her like a comforting blanket. This was home now, and it felt good. “Thanks. We’ve still got a lot to do, but it’s coming together.”

  “Can I see the rest?”

  Marissa motioned up the stairs. “I’ll have Aiden show you the basement and the backyard tomorrow, but my favorite feature is the upstairs laundry room.”

  Cassie chuckled. “You’re such a mom.”

  Marissa looked over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs, careful not to wake Aiden whose bedroom was the first door they would pass on their way to the rest of the rooms. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

  Cassie shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. “Just an observation.”

  Marissa walked down the hallway to the last door on the right. “This is the master. I paid for someone to come and update the ensuite master bath and add that big soaker tub, but other than that and a couple of coats of paint, I haven’t touched it.”

  Cassie stepped past three wardrobe boxes and a queen-size inflatable mattress. “I can tell.”

  Marissa chuckled. “I’ve been focusing on painting the main floor and getting Aiden’s room and my home office set up.”

  “Trying that hard to avoid thinking about the reunion tomorrow night, huh?”

  What little enthusiasm Marissa had scraped together for this little tour dropped to the pit of her stomach. “Is it that obvious?”

  Cassie stepped into the dry bathtub and sighed in pleasure. “Probably not to Aiden, but yeah, I could tell. This tub’s amazing. Have you gotten a chance to try it out yet?”

  Though Marissa’s cheeks pinked at how her sister had pegged her, she shook her head. “Hopefully in the next week or two, but I’ve been a little busy.”

  Cassie nodded as if she’d expected the answer, and something about that bothered Marissa. Was this just another way she’d forgotten how to give into her impulses? Had she become so regimented that she couldn’t even enjoy her new bathtub without planning it into her day? The bathtub she’d paid extra money to have installed three weeks ago?

  “It’s Declan Pierce that has you not wanting to go, isn’t it?”

  Cassie leaned over the edge of the bathtub, her crossed arms dangling over the edge and providing the perfect perch for her heart-shaped face.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Cassie raised an eyebrow as if to challenge her sister. “I’m not an idiot, Marissa. I may not have thought much about those years you were in high school, but that doesn’t mean I forgot Declan completely. He was our favorite of all your boyfriends.”

  Marissa shrugged as she leaned against the bathroom sink, the action triggering an unexpected memory of nineteen-year-old Declan with his shoulders rounded as he asked if the thought of marrying him sickened her.

  It had, but not for the reasons he thought. And she’d never get to tell him that.

  “It’ll be hard to see him showing off his wife and pictures of his kids, but weirdly, I’m kind of looking forward to that. It’ll mean he moved on. Which is exactly what I told him to do. He was understanding after Mom and Dad died, but I don’t think he understood why I broke up with him.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why you broke up with him.” Cassie stepped out of the bathtub and joined her sister by the double vanity. “One minute he was like a member of the family, and the next he was gone.”

  Marissa just shrugged. “It’s not worth getting into right now. I guess you could just say that our timing was rotten.”

  “He wasn’t willing to come back to Colorado and help you take care of us?”

  Marissa looked at her sister, trying to gauge how much of the story she wanted to tell. “He was too willing to come back to help me take care of you. I know that sounds silly, but it was overwhelming for me. I was too young, too grief-stricken, too stubborn to see how much I needed an ally in my court.”

  Cassie hesitated, tucking a single errant strand of her strawberry blond ponytail behind one ear. “Has that really changed, though?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re great at helping other people, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you admit that you need someone, too. Maybe I’m wrong, but that might be why you’re going to this reunion without a date.”

  “I don’t need a date to feel good about myself.” The reaction was knee-jerk, almost instinctive.

  Cassie’s sad smile seemed to say that Marissa had just proved her point. “I didn’t say you needed a date to feel good about yourself. I just said that maybe your fierce independence has you going to this alone.”

  Marissa winced. “And you think I shouldn’t be going alone?”

  Cassie seemed contemplative as she crossed her arms and pondered the question. “I think you have an enormous heart, and you deserve to love and be loved by more than just your siblings and your son.”

  Marissa wrapped an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and kissed her temple in a maternal embrace. “I might say the same about you, little sister.”

  Cassie’s moist eyes and doubtful expression did more to tell Marissa how the younger woman felt after her breakup with Dan than anything the doctor had let slip. Marissa nudged Cassie with her hips. “Come on, let’s get you settled in the guest room or tomorrow will come sooner than either of us is ready.”

  YOU CAN DO THIS.

  Marissa gripped the steering wheel of her van in the high school parking lot the next night. She glanced down at her watch. Ten minutes in the parking lot, bracing herself to face the memories in those halls. It wasn’t just the memories of Declan, either.

  She’d believed herself so grown-up when she walked down these halls. Now, she knew she’d only been a child. In some ways, she longed to be that girl again. In others, she cringed to remember her.

  As Marissa stepped out of the van, she tugged on her burgundy sheath dress, regretting that she’d given Cassie carte blanche on her outfit. Though the dress met professional standards of modesty, it was shorter than anything Marissa usually wore, and the butterflies fighting to the death in her stomach told her this was the wrong time to try something new.

  She glimpsed herself in the mirrored trophy case as she walked up to the registration table and picked up her name tag. Who was this woman with manicured nails, bouncing curls, and carefully applied makeup? What was the point of these things if everyone was just going to lie about who they really were?

  “Wow, that can’t be Marissa Lambert, can it?”

  Marissa turned toward the sound of the voice, her surprise melting into a smile when recognition dawned. “Emily Norton?”

  The squat redhead waggled her ring finger, which wielded a significant white diamond at Marissa. “Not Norton anymore. It’s Emily Cramer now.”

  Marissa’s eyes widened. “You married Chris Cramer?”

  Emily threw back her head and laughed. “No, I married his brother, Carter.”

  Marissa searched her memory for Carter Cramer. Chris had been in the drama club with them, but Carter ...

  Her jaw dropped. “The all-star football player three years ahead of us in school?”

  Emily grinned. “That’s the one.”

  Marissa whistled. “Didn’t you write an article in the school newspaper comparing the football players to lemmings, willing to run off a cliff without a second thought as long as it was for the good of the team?”

  Emily’s cheeks reddened as she threaded her arm through Marissa’s and walked her to the refreshment table. “When I think about what I wrote in the school paper about football...Well, let’s just say I’m glad that all the issues of the high school newspaper came before the internet. My fourteen-year-old wouldn’t otherwise let me live it down.”

  Marissa laughed.

  Emily handed her a small cup of punch and then guided her through the appetizer line, piling hors d’o
euvres on Marissa’s plate like a mother hen. “So, tell me about your family. Husband? Kids?”

  Marissa took a second to smell the drink to see if some mischievous alumnus had spiked it. So far, it seemed clean.

  “No husband. One son. His name’s Aiden.”

  Emily stopped her administrations. “No husband? Divorce?”

  Marissa’s lips played with a smile. “Nope. I adopted Aiden out of foster care.”

  “Oh.”

  If Emily’s change of demeanor was any sign, Marissa would get a few minutes of peace soon.

  “Well, aren’t you a saint?”

  Marissa had to work hard not to roll her eyes.

  Emily’s eyes scanned the room as if she was looking for any kind of escape. “It’s not just anyone who can adopt from foster care. I would, but my husband worries about how it would affect the girls.”

  Marissa ignored Emily’s subtle jab, but before she could change the subject, Emily gasped. “Do you remember Declan Pierce?”

  Marissa’s heart squeezed. Here we go. “Yeah. He’s an engineer, right? Got married a few years back to a girl he met in college?”

  Emily gripped Marissa’s forearm. “Oh, honey, Declan’s wife died last year.”

  The room spun. Though Marissa had braced herself to hear gossip about Declan, she hadn’t expected to hear anything like that. “Died?”

  Emily nodded. “Breast cancer. She and Declan go to church with Carter and me—well, he does. Used to, anyway. I don’t think I’ve seen him since the funeral.”

  Marissa’s lips fell open in sympathy.

  “It was such a shame. She was such a sweetheart, too. The perfect woman for Declan.” Emily seemed to realize what she’d just said because she turned a nervous glance up at Marissa. “I mean, after you, of course.”

  Marissa opened her mouth to speak when she heard footsteps approach them.