"Yeah. Hey, speaking of family, I met someone recently." I covered the frying pan, adjusted the heat to low, washed my hands, then came over to sit with Jonathan. "Your brother."
He barely blinked. "Where was that?"
"My dad and I had lunch at Hudson's. I didn't know it was his place."
"Yes."
"He came out to press the flesh, and lunch had been very good, so I suggested that we review it. Then he told me who he was." Jonathan's face was tight, but unreadable. "He asked me to tell you something," I added.
"And what is that?"
"He'd like to see you."
He bent down to put Ollie on his blanket, then sat up straight again. "I'd prefer not to have this discussion with you," he said. "I--Yes. I'd prefer not to."
"Okay. I felt like I should mention it." I bit my thumbnail. "Um, I saw him again today."
"Really."
"Yes. When I was getting stuff for the Saturday stroll, he came over to me, he must've seen me through the window, and--"
"Did you tell him we're dating?"
"No."
"I don't want my children to know about you. And he would tell them."
"I didn't say anything."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." I thought so, anyway. No, I was sure.
Jonathan stared out the window. His jaw looked like I could hit it with a crowbar and end up with a broken piece of metal in my hands.
The mood was broken, that was for sure.
He turned to look at me. "Maybe we should talk a little bit. About...us."
"Sure. Go ahead."
He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to bring my children into this. They don't need to know I'm seeing someone until...quite a long time from now."
"Well, they do know me."
"They've met you. They don't know you. You work for me, that's all they know." He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "You're fresh out of a relationship. It could very well be that I'm just a rebound for you."
"I can think of easier men for a rebound."
"I don't want my daughters to get attached to you if things don't work out. They've been through a lot of change in the past two years. I won't do what their mother did and shove a new relationship into their lives."
Couldn't fault him for that. Still, his verbiage could've been a little nicer. "I understand."
"Good."
I waited for him to say something nice to take the edge off.
He didn't.
"Okay. I'll check the chicken."
I got up and went to the stove, shoved the chicken around a little, turned it. Didn't really feel like cooking for him anymore. In fact, I felt like being alone.
Then his arms were around my waist, his mouth at my ear. "I'm sorry," he said, sending a shiver down my spine. "It's complicated."
"I know." My voice was just a whisper.
Then I put down the spatula and turned around to face him. "Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you don't really like me a whole lot."
One second. Two. Three. Four.
"You're wrong."
"I know you like sleeping with me, but that can't--"
"I like you, Ainsley."
Oh, that voice, so deep and rumbly. That wasn't fair.
He reached behind me and turned off the stove, then cupped my head, his fingers firm on the back of my scalp. My bones started to tingle. "I like that you always seem happy. I like how you talk to strangers. I like your silly dresses. I like that you're completely different from me. I like the way you smell. I like your hair and your eyelashes and your smile."
The faintest smile was on his face, and he didn't look away.
"Okay, you pass," I whispered.
He smiled full-on then, and my knees buckled. "Go sit down," he said. "I'll finish dinner."
No doubt about it. I was falling in love.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kate
I had to talk to Daniel.
All the give yourself a break, have some fun rationale had turned to dust the second I'd seen Brooke standing in my kitchen.
Thank God for Ainsley, making it seem like Daniel was hers.
Sitting there in Nathan's living room, talking to Nathan's sister about Nathan's parents' party the night after I'd slept with someone who was not Nathan...
Brooke looked like hell. Her hair was falling out, she told me. She kept dreaming that Nathan was alive. She told me Miles was sucking his thumb again. That she was afraid her father's drinking was getting out of hand. That her mother was too quiet. That she couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her brother again. That she wanted to talk to a medium.
I felt each statement like a punch to the heart, and that spike through my throat twisted. "Oh, Brooke," I said, holding her as she sobbed, my own eyes dry and hard and wrong. "I'm so sorry."
"You loved him so much, didn't you?" she asked. I nodded helplessly, even more guilt sloshing over me.
But I had loved Nathan. Even if he'd never fallen all the way out of love with Madeleine. It occurred to me that I could ask Brooke about that.
But of course, I couldn't. In the face of Brooke's grief, it seemed petty, asking about his ex-wife, trying to see just how much Nathan loved her. He was gone, and if I was an insecure widow, I should probably keep that to myself. Especially after sleeping with Daniel.
"We'll get through this," she said, blowing her nose. "And God, I'm so sorry, coming over here, crying on your couch when you're the one who's really suffering."
I smiled weakly. Images of Daniel and me last night, in the shower... I was going to hell.
When Brooke finally left, I took a punishing shower, scrubbing every inch of myself as hard as I could. Pulled my hair into a ponytail, put on one of my Cambry-on-Hudson dresses, a pink-and-green Lily Pulitzer dress with strappy sandals that aged me ten years. Drove to Brooklyn, the VW's air conditioner not up for the task of truly cooling the sticky summer air. There was traffic, of course. There always was.
Daniel was working. It hadn't occurred to me to check first, idiot that I was. Come on over, he said after I texted him from the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. Meet the guys.
Super. I went to Rescue 2, home of the most elite firefighters in the world, and got out of the car. My back was wet with sweat, and my face felt tight and red. I kept my sunglasses on.
The humble, two-story brick building had a logo painted on the red door. Like all FDNY departments, they'd suffered a lot of tragedy, and I wished abruptly, after three hours in stifling traffic, that I'd thought this through.
Two firefighters were sitting outside the firehouse. One winked at me. "Hi," I said. "Is Daniel around?"
"Breton!" yelled the other. "Your woman is here!"
Oh, shit. I was not his woman. I hoped to God he hadn't told them I was.
The door opened and Daniel came out, a big smile on his face. "Hey," he said, coming over. He bent down for a kiss, and I turned my face so it landed on my cheek.
"Hi," I said.
The smile slid off his face. But he turned to the other two. "Bruce, Jay, this is Kate, an old friend of mine."
"Nice to meetcha," they said in unison.
"Same here. Thanks for being so badass and brave and everything."
"You got it, pretty lady," said the winker.
"We live to serve," the other one said.
"Come on," Daniel said. "There are benches over here."
Given the heat of the day, no one was out. The firehouse was near a school, and there were tennis courts and tracks behind chain-link fences. A row of benches sat in the shade.
"What brings you to Brooklyn?" he asked. "And what the hell are you wearing?"
"Goofy, isn't it?" I wiped my palms on my dress. I had no reason to feel bad about this, I told myself. We were friends. There had been benefits. Those benefits were now suspended. That was all. "We need to talk."
He folded his arms. "Funny, that's usually my line."
"I'm so sorry about
this morning. That was Nathan's sister who came in."
"Yeah, I got that." He sighed. "So you made a terrible mistake and it should never happen again."
"It's like you're psychic."
He didn't smile.
"Daniel, you've been a really good friend these past few months. I...I appreciate last night more than I can say. But I can't do anything more. Or again. You know what I mean? I'm a new widow. I... If you thought--"
"No, I didn't think anything," he said, his voice hard. "You know me. Just out for a good time."
"Yeah. Okay."
"I should get back to work."
"Right."
He stood up, offered his hand and then let mine go the second I was upright. "You didn't have to drive all the way here just to tell me I was a one-night stand," he said.
"We're friends. I just... I didn't want... I did need to. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."
"You didn't. I'll see you around, okay?" With that, he went back into the firehouse.
Feeling like shit, I decided to visit the Re-Enter Center. I got back into my stifling car and drove there. The door was unlocked, and my footsteps echoed down the hall. Greta, the director, was in.
"Kate!" she exclaimed. "So good to see you!" She stood up from her desk and gave me a hug. "Hot out there, isn't it? How are things?"
"Things are okay," I lied. "Better." No one really wanted to hear the truth. It was a much-discussed topic in the grief group.
We chatted about easy things, some of the students, where they were, if they'd gotten any jobs.
"We're having a show in a few weeks. Ex-con art is all the rage, apparently. Did Paige tell you about it?" Greta asked.
"No. We're not as close as we used to be."
She nodded. "Well, you should come! There'll be paintings, sculptures, some furniture and, of course, photos. In fact, why don't you judge that category? Say yes! I won't lie, I want you back here, and I know it's a bit farther for you now, but please do this for us! Who better than our Kate?"
"Sure, I'll do it," I said. "You bet. But I better head back home. It was great seeing you."
Rather than get back in my car, I walked through my old neighborhood, avoiding my street, which held too many memories. I didn't see anyone I knew, not even Ronny, the homeless guy I used to buy breakfast for.
The feeling of disappearing slammed into me. Maybe I really was becoming invisible. What if I had a heart attack? Who would save me? Would anyone even notice? Would someone call 911?
In for three, hold for three, out for three, hold for three. I wouldn't faint. I wouldn't die (not yet, anyway). But my heart felt like a hard, dead thing inside my chest, heavy and useless.
I could really use some help here, Nathan, I thought. But from my dead husband, there was nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ainsley
The summer plodded through the dog days of August, when half of Cambry-on-Hudson left for Martha's Vineyard or the coast of Maine. Despite the muggy weather, I rode my bike to work every day, through the park and cemetery. For some reason, I managed to show up on time every day, something I hadn't managed with a car.
Jonathan and I were a couple. A real couple, and it was at turns wonderful and maddening. Sometimes I wanted to kick him, sometimes I wanted to crawl over him and lick every inch of his skin. At work, he was more anal-retentive than before, if such a thing was possible. But I tried to give him fewer reasons to get irritated with me. I did my work, stopped the online shopping...except for when Zappos had a huge one-day sale, and please, every woman in America was online that day, the website crashed (but not before I'd ordered three adorable pairs of shoes).
As I rode home through the park one soft evening, the sun turning the western sky purple and the most amazing shade of nectarine, I saw someone sitting in the cemetery.
It was Kate.
If she visited Nathan's grave regularly, she never mentioned it. Since I'd taken to riding my bike, I stopped by, making sure the plantings were watered. Sometimes, there'd be a drawing from one of his nephews, which I tried not to look at, because they weren't for me. Nonetheless, they made me cry--the sweet, childlike printing, the swirls of Crayola.
"Hey," I called, getting off my bike and leaning it against a tree. "Want company?"
"Sure," she said.
Nathan Vance Coburn III, loving husband, son and brother, a wonderful man, always smiling. There was a bouquet of fresh white roses there, from Kate, I assumed.
I sat next to my sister and put my arm around her, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek.
A year ago, this kind of interaction would've been out of the question. It just wouldn't have been us.
It was us now.
"Today's the one-year anniversary of the day we met," she said.
"Oh, honey." I squeezed her a little closer.
"It was this awful wedding, and he asked me out, and I thought he must be a serial killer or something."
"But he wasn't. Or he was really secretive about it."
She gave a little snort.
"How's Daniel?" I asked.
"We're not... I haven't seen him recently. That night was a mistake."
I smoothed her hair out of my eye. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I can't have a fling, Ainsley. I'm a widow."
"So no sex forevermore?"
"Probably."
"Well, I think you should cut yourself some slack. Let's face it. Maybe it was the grief that drove you into his magnificent arms--" Another snort. "Or maybe it's just that he likes you and you needed a little fun."
"I feel like I cheated on Nathan."
"You didn't." I paused. "Kate, you knew Nathan less than a year. You're allowed to get over him, you know."
Her head snapped up. "I loved him."
"I know, honey. I do. But don't do things because you feel like there's a handbook you should follow. If Daniel makes you happy, let him. You don't have to marry him next week."
She sighed. "It all sounds very wise until you walk into the kitchen, all postcoital, and your dead husband's sister is there with her hair falling out."
"Yeah, that was bad. But you're allowed to be alive, Kate. If you find something that makes you smile, don't worry about it. Have fun. Nathan would want that. He was crazy about you."
"Yeah. Me and his ex-wife."
I had no answer for that. "Well, we hate her, so who cares? He loved you, Kate. You have to know that."
She swallowed hard. "I do."
I smoothed her hair back and gave her another squeeze. A red-winged blackbird sang from the top of a pine tree, and a train whistle sounded in the distance.
"Oh, there you girls are!"
We both jumped and turned. Candy, in the flesh, strode up through the graves, dressed in a red suit and black Manolos that made me start to drool with envy.
"How did you find us?" I asked.
"I have a GPS app on your phone, Ainsley."
My mouth fell open. "You do?"
"Of course I do."
"Why?"
"So I know where you are." She gave me a puzzled look and sat down on Kate's other side. "Is today a significant day?"
Kate sighed. "Nathan and I met a year ago today."
"It's important to acknowledge these milestones in your healing journey." As always when talking about anything emotional, she sounded smug.
"Roger that." Kate was a master at not being offended by our mother. Her mother. Whatever.
"So! I left your father, girls," she said, lying back and folding her hands under her unnatural hair. "Don't worry, I'm not moving in. You made it clear I'm not wanted."
"You're wanted," Kate said. "Just not as a roomie."
"I signed the papers on a little place of my own today. You know those condos right on the Hudson in Tarrytown? I bought one. I also signed another book contract. The Toxic Marriage: Why We Stay."
"Wow," I said, lying back, as well. The grass pricked the back of my nec
k, but the view of the sky was amazing. Also, this was big news, and lying down seemed appropriate. "Wow."
Kate lay back, as well. "Why now, Mom?"
Candy sighed. "Oh, I had a client come in, and she reminded me of myself. Stuck in a stupid marriage, perpetually unhappy, and I heard myself telling her she had choices, and inaction was a choice, too, and I thought, Hello? Candace? You've been doing the same damn thing for thirty years."
"I thought you loved Dad," I said.
She didn't answer for a minute. "I do," she finally said, and her voice was smaller. "But let's face it. He never got over your mother. Don't be like that, Kate. Get over Nathan and live again."
"Thanks for the advice."
"I'm tired of being bitter," Candy said. "I'd like to try something else."
"Does Dad know?" I asked.
"I just called him. Left a voice mail. He's working a Cardinals game."
We were all quiet for a minute. A crow flew over us, cawing, the last of the sunlight turning its feathers iridescent.
"Why did you take him back, Mom?" Kate asked. "You were so angry when he divorced you. Sean and I thought you hated him."
"I did."
"So?" Kate continued. "It must've been clear he was just using you. And if you had said no, he would've married someone else within the month. Dad couldn't make himself a sandwich with a gun pointed at his heart, let alone raise Ainsley alone."
"I know," Candy said. "But I couldn't leave that poor innocent child out in the cold, could I?"
"So all these decades of unhappiness are on me?" I said. "Sorry for being born."
"No, Ainsley." Her voice was overly patient, that I'm sorry you're so dense voice I knew so well. "Part of me hoped he'd...well, you know, girls. I hoped he'd fall in love with me again. But he didn't. There were times when I thought he was close, but I was always wrong." She glanced at me. "You were the best part. The sweetest little girl in the world."
My eyes widened, and I had to sit up a little to make sure Candy had just said what I thought I heard.
Kate was smiling. "You win, Ainsley. Mom loves you best."
Candy smiled and looked back at the sky. "Every child is a mother's favorite."
"I thought I was the recalcitrant stepchild," I said.
"That book isn't based on you, Ainsley. Please."
"Sean is your true favorite," Kate said.
"Sean," Candy snorted. "He's useless, that boy. But he did give me grandchildren. Who wants dinner? I'm starving. Or are you too busy for your poor soon-to-be single mother?"
I was pretty sure she was talking to both of us, and the word step had not been used.
"I'm not too busy for my poor single mother," I said, jumping up. "Kate, are you too busy for your poor single mother?"
On Second Thought Page 33