Three Shoeboxes e-book

by Three Shoeboxes (epub)

  Jen leaned forward in the passenger seat. “I think there’s been an accident,” she said.

  Once the rubbernecker in front of them had inched past the scene—never even considering to stop—Mac slowed to a crawl and surveyed the scene. Two cars had been involved in the wreck. “It looks like it just happened,” he told Jen.

  She nodded. “I hope everyone’s all right.”

  The windshield of one of the cars had been shattered, half of it now covered in crimson red. That’s a lot of blood, he thought, his own blood turning cold. Should I stop? Almost involuntarily, he pulled off to the side of the road. “They need help,” he said to his worried wife. And someone really needs to help them, he thought, trying to steel himself to be that someone. His body’s fight or flight response, however, pled for him to drive on and avoid the gruesome scene.

  As Mac swung open the driver’s side door and took one step out of the car, a siren wailed in the distance. Leaning to his right, he peered into the rear-view mirror. Flashing red and blue lights strobed into the dark night behind them. “The cavalry’s arrived,” he said aloud, more for himself than for Jen.

  “Thank God,” she said, nodding. “I just hope no one’s hurt bad.”

  As the siren got louder and the flashing lights brighter, Mac glanced at the blood on the windshield one last time. Someone’s definitely hurt, he thought. There’s nothing worse than a friggin’ car accident.

  Chapter 2

  Jen sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, her oversized bouquet of flowers sitting before her in a crystal vase.

  Mac entered the room, grunting and pounding on his chest like a silverback gorilla. “Be honest,” he said, “last night was amazing, wasn’t it?”

  Jen dropped the paper and kissed him. “You were an animal, babe. It was the most incredible eight minutes of my life.”

  Mac grabbed for his chest, pretending he’d just been wounded.

  Jen laughed. Goofball.

  His eyes drifted off for a moment. “Eight minutes?” he muttered. “I didn’t realize it lasted that long.” He shrugged. “That’s not bad after fifteen years, right?”

  Laughing, Jen handed him a cup of coffee. “You know I’m teasing,” she whispered, kissing him again. “Last night was amazing. You were very sweet for putting so much thought into it.” She gazed at him. “And I’m holding you to that promise.”

  “Ditto,” he said.

  “And I really love my treasure box.”

  Mac smiled. “And I love the framed photo, Jen.” He took a sip of coffee before looking at the kitchen clock. “Oh, I need to go pick up the kids from Diane’s.”

  Jen shook her head. “I already talked to her this morning and she’s offered to drop them off.”

  “Really?” he said, shocked. “What time?”

  “I told her any time this morning would be fine,” Jen said, shrugging.

  “Your sister’s such a sweetheart,” Mac teased. “I never know whether to hug her or throw her into a headlock.”

  “Be nice, Mac,” she said. “If it wasn’t for Diane, you wouldn’t have had your eight minutes of glory last night.”

  Mac nodded. “That’s true, I guess.”

  Jen glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I’m going to head upstairs and get showered. We need to start getting ready for Brady’s party.” Kissing Mac once more, she left for the bedroom.

  Mac watched her walk away and smiled. “Mac Anderson,” he said to himself, “you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch.” As he sipped his coffee, his breathing suddenly became short and quick. He stood, freezing in place. A moment later, he stumbled from being dizzy and grabbed for a kitchen chair to brace himself. He then grabbed for his chest before reaching up to his neck to check his erratic pulse. “What the hell,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. What the hell’s happening? he thought, before heading for the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

  ⧝

  After being dropped off, the kids barged into the living room.

  Jillian was the spitting image of her father, with dark hair and eyes. Dressed in her usual baggy clothes—an earth-toned outfit that drew attention away from herself—she looked toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “Just keep it down, guys, so Mom and Dad can sleep,” she whispered.

  “Okay,” Brady said, “but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it down.”

  While Jillian shook her head, Bella laughed. The three claimed their usual spots on the couch. Jillian picked up the remote control and clicked on the television.

  “I don’t want to watch this show,” Bella complained.

  “Leave it on!” Brady yelled. “I like this show.”

  Bella pushed Brady’s shoulder. “Shut your mouth, Brady. Mom and Dad are…”

  Brady pushed her back. “You shut your mouth, Beans!”

  “Stop fighting,” Jillian warned through gritted teeth, separating them, “and we’re going to watch something else.” The last thing I need is for Dad to get after me because these two can’t shut up.

  ⧝

  Taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, Mac was still in shock when he stepped into the living room.

  Excited to see him, the kids immediately ceased their squabble.

  “How did it go, Dad?” Bella asked right away. With her mother’s chocolate curls and light eyes, this girlie-girl had recently turned eight—an age when pigtails and Barbie dolls had just started to lose their attraction.

  “Yeah, was Mom surprised?” Brady squealed.

  Pushing aside the terrifying episode, Mac took a seat beside them. “Mom was definitely surprised,” he said. “We had a wonderful night. Thank you, guys, for giving us the time.”

  “I still say you should have cooked her dinner,” Jillian teased.

  Mac grinned. “Ummm…”

  “Yeah, you should have,” Bella agreed.

  “I suppose I could have picked up dinner,” Mac said, “but I still would have had to heat it and serve it to her.”

  Bella grinned. “And the way you cook…”

  “…it was probably best you went out to eat, Dad,” Brady added, finishing his sister’s thought.

  The kids all laughed.

  “Very funny, guys,” Mac said.

  “So, what did you give Mom for an anniversary gift?” Jillian asked, becoming serious.

  “Let me show you,” Mac said proudly, sliding a wooden box in front of them and opening it.

  Excitedly, Jillian plucked a card out of the treasure box and read it aloud, “Jen, thank you for fifteen great years, three beautiful children and one incredible life.”

  “Awww,” Bella said, “that’s so sweet, Dad.”

  Nodding, Mac began pulling out some of the gifts. “I got Mom some of her favorite music, some chocolate, perfume and English tea.” Picking up the lingerie, he tucked it under his leg. Maybe they didn’t notice, he told himself.

  Brady reached into the box and pulled out a small teddy bear. Looking it over, he shook his head and tossed it back in.

  Mac continued pulling items out of the box. “…candles, some lotions, bubble bath and wine.”

  “You gave all this stuff to Mom?” Bella said.

  Mac nodded. “Well, it is our fifteenth anniversary.” He studied his daughter’s innocent face and smiled. “You don’t think she deserves it?”

  Both Bella and Brady shrugged, while Mac and Jillian laughed.

  Jillian dove back into the box and pulled out a homemade booklet. “Mommy’s coupon book…” she read before opening it. “I’ll wash the dishes,” she read, flipping the page. “Extended foot massage.” She flipped to the next page. “Whatever your filthy imagination can…”

  “All righty then,” Mac said, snatching the booklet out of her hand and throwing it back into the box with everyt
hing else. “So, what did you guys do at Aunt Diane’s last night?” he asked, changing the subject and closing the box.

  “We watched TV,” Brady said, “that’s all.”

  Mac snickered. “Of course you did.”

  “What did Mom give you for an anniversary gift?” Bella asked.

  Mac looked down the line at each of them and smiled. “You guys,” he said and, before they could question it, he showed them the back of a framed photo. “Before Mom handed this to me, she told me that my gift is the one thing that means the most to her in the whole world.” He grinned. “When I tore off the wrapping paper, this is what I found.” He turned the framed photo around for his children to see.

  “It’s a photo of me, Bella, Brady,” Jillian blurted, “and…” She stopped. “…it’s our family.”

  “Awww,” Bella cooed again.

  “Were you surprised, Dad?” Brady asked.

  “I was, buddy. I even told her that she might be able to hang out with us for another fifteen years,” he teased.

  Bella slapped her father’s arm, while Jillian and Brady laughed.

  “Okay,” Mac said, “now who wants to help me get everything ready for Brady’s party?”

  Jillian clicked off the television, while Brady rushed to his father’s side. Bella stood. “I’ll make a birthday banner,” she said, heading off to her bedroom.

  “I’ll get the cake frosted,” Jillian said, going off to the kitchen.

  Mac patted the cushion beside him for Brady to take a seat.

  Grabbing a balloon from the end table, Mac began blowing it up. “So, are you ready to turn seven, little man?” he asked his son between breaths.

  The dark hair, light-eyed boy shrugged. “I haven’t thought a lot about it, Dad. I just wish…” His small face was filled with worry. Even though Brady was the baby of the family, this rough-and-tumble tyke had a high emotional IQ.

  Mac stopped inflating the balloon. “What do you wish, buddy?”

  “I just wish my friend, Drew, was coming to my party,” he said sadly. “His family had to move away, so we’re not friends anymore.”

  “Not friends anymore?” Mac repeated, pinching off the air in the half-inflated balloon. “How’s that even possible?”

  Brady shrugged again. “Well, we can’t see each other anymore, so…”

  “Brady, you don’t have to be with someone to care about them,” Mac interrupted, shaking his head. “Everyone I love lives right in here…” he pointed toward his chest, “…where they’re safe and sound.” While his young son gave it some thought, Mac inhaled deeply to drive his point home.

  Brady followed suit and smiled. “That means me and Drew can be friends forever,” he squealed. “Thanks Dad.”

  With a wink, Mac started inflating the balloon again when his heart skipped three beats and his breathing came to a sudden halt. He leapt to his feet and immediately grabbed for his chest, while the air emptied from the balloon. I can’t breathe, he thought, feeling terrified. I… I…

  “You okay, Dad?” Brady asked, equally alarmed.

  Is it a heart attack? Am I dying? An onslaught of macabre feelings and fragmented thoughts began rushing through him.

  “Dad?” Brady repeated.

  “Go upstairs,” Mac gasped, unsure of what was happening, “and help your sister with the banner.”

  “But Dad…”

  “Now, Brady!” Mac snapped, trying to sort through a thousand jumbled thoughts racing through his mind.

  While the small boy hurried off to his sister’s bedroom, Jillian stepped out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was all about.

  “Go back to your cake,” Mac barked in a voice much louder than he’d wanted. But he couldn’t help it.

  Jillian rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said under her breath before disappearing behind the door.

  Wave after crushing wave of adrenaline raced through Mac’s veins, making his extremities tingle. What the hell…

  The terrifying episode was just starting to subside when Jen entered the living room. She looked around. “The kids home?” she asked.

  “Beans and Brady are upstairs, making a banner for the party,” he said, breathing away the last of his menacing symptoms. “Jill’s getting the cake frosted in the kitchen.”

  “Getting the cake frosted?” she repeated. “I was going to finish the cake.”

  Mac took another deep breath, trying to steady himself.

  “What’s wrong?” Jen asked, searching his face.

  “It’s probably nothing,” he said, shrugging.

  “What is it?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

  “I don’t really know. I was blowing up a balloon when all of sudden I started having trouble breathing.”

  “From blowing up a balloon?” she asked in disbelief.

  He shrugged again. “My heart skipped a few times and…”

  “Then we need to go to the Emergency Room!” she interrupted, her face instantly changing from confused to fearful. “We’ll reschedule Brady’s party for another…”

  “No, no,” Mac said, shaking his head, “we’re not rescheduling the party.” He took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, grinning, “I feel better already. Like I said, it was probably nothing.”

  “But what if it wasn’t nothing?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him and looking up into his face.

  “If I don’t feel well after the party, I’ll go get checked out.”

  She stared at him. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  She kissed him. “And you’ll tell me if it happens again?”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” he said, adding a grin.

  She didn’t smile.

  “I need to go get ready for the party,” Mac said before kissing Jen and starting for the bedroom. “People will be here before we know it.”

  ⧝

  Colorful balloons, tied to the mailbox of the Anderson’s colonial home, blew in the soft summer breeze. The quaint New England street was filled with parked cars on both sides. In the backyard, Mac stood on the deck, enjoying the company of his and Jen’s many guests, and cooking enough hamburgers and hot dogs to feed a small army.

  He looked up to see that Sarah Chin, Bella’s best friend, had just arrived. “Hi Sarah,” he called out.

  “Hi, Mr. Anderson,” Sarah called back, her big rosy cheeks engulfing her face and closing her eyes when she smiled.

  Mac chuckled at the sight of the sassy young girl.

  Wearing pointy party hats, the children ran and played games. They took turns chasing Sophie—a four-pound teacup poodle with the attitude of a grizzly cub—in and out of the house. Adults congregated in small groups, sipping fruit-garnished cocktails and pretending to pay attention to their screaming children. Hidden speakers played pop music, everyone celebrating the birthday of Mac and Jen’s young boy, Brady.

  As a band of screaming children chased Sophie back into the kitchen—being careful not to squish her—Mac walked in behind them to grab some more sliced cheese from the refrigerator. The wall calendar showed the words BRADY’S BIRTHDAY; the date was August 24. Sophie led the kids into the living room where she ran in circles. Mac laughed. On the mantle above the fireplace, family photos in mismatched frames smiled from behind spotless plates of glass. Mac and Jen’s wedding picture was surrounded by photos of them and the kids: shots taken at Disneyland, the beach, a picnic, New York City and the aquarium, just to name a few. Though the settings changed, the themes remained the same. The entire Anderson family was together, and they were smiling. “Go play outside,” he told the kids.

  ⧝

  Jen took a seat between her sister, Diane Nedar, and her mother, Sue. Although Diane was the younger sister, she had already experienced enough life to be terribly and thoroughly jaded. And Sue, being
recently divorced from their dad, showed all the signs of newfound freedom. She was already inebriated.

  “You got here a little early,” Jen said to her bitter sister.

  “At least I’m here,” Diane replied, snickering. “Did Dad even call Brady to wish him a happy birthday?” she asked, still clutching her nephew’s present.

  “Yes, he called,” Jen said, rolling her eyes, “and he said he’d swing by during the week when his hateful daughter wasn’t around.”

  Diane’s nostrils flared. Within seconds, a grin replaced her sour puss—as she obviously realized she was wrong for bringing up their father.

  “For someone who swears she doesn’t care about Dad,” Jen added, sipping her cocktail, “you spend an awful lot of time talking about him.”

  Diane sighed heavily. “Some habits are harder to break than others.” She shrugged. “It’s a lot more fun to hate him.”

  Both women looked toward their mother.

  Sue took another sip of her cocktail. “To tell you the truth, girls,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not sure I could ever stop caring for someone—especially when you’ve shared a love as deep as mine and your father’s.” She smiled. “But for now, it’s a lot more fun for me to hate him too.”

  The three women were sharing a laugh when Bella and Brady approached, carrying a birthday banner. After kissing their aunt, Diane handed Brady his gift.

  “Thanks Auntie Diane,” the boy said.

  “You’re welcome, Brady,” she said, “and you can open it now. You don’t have to wait until later.”

  Brady was tearing into the present when Mac walked past. “Hi, Diane,” he said. “Thanks for helping us out last night.”

  She nodded. “Always happy to help my sister.”

  He let it go. “Okay, well, I’m glad you made it today.”

  “And why wouldn’t I, Mac?” she asked.

  Mac shook his head. “Always a pleasure talking to you,” he mumbled under his breath. Ignoring his sister-in-law’s dirty look, Mac solicited Jillian’s help to hang the large banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRADY in big bold letters.