by Cindy Kirk
“Deb would hunt me down and skin me alive if I didn’t show up with ‘her boys.’” Prim’s mouth curved in a soft smile. “I think the twins would be disappointed, too. They enjoy seeing their grandparents.”
She’d put pink color on her lips and smelled like lemons.
“I would have watched Boris.”
“Thank you for that.” She leaned close, and for a second he thought they would kiss. Apparently remembering the two sets of eyes trained on her, at the last second she merely patted his cheek. “My dad loves Boris and he’d already offered.”
Max wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him. He wanted to take her up to his bedroom and—
“Well,” she said, her face flushed even though the outside air was cool. “I should go.”
She didn’t move a muscle.
Neither did Max.
“Drive safe. If you run into any trouble on the road, call.” His tone brooked no argument. “Let me know when you arrive in Appleton. I’ll have my phone with me.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Sorry. Goes with the territory.” Then, before he could talk himself out of the gesture, Max leaned over and kissed her.
Rory’s spirit lived in the Delaney house on a quiet street in Appleton. Freshly polished high school trophies with silver soccer balls and gold footballs gleamed on a wall of shelves in the living room. Pictures of him holding various medals were there, too. In the main hallway, there was a collage of photos: him as high school homecoming king, fraternity president, and mountain climber. There were numerous shots of him at the tops of soaring peaks, usually with a fist stretched high in triumph.
The joy on his face warmed Prim’s heart. Though she hadn’t always agreed with his priorities, Rory had fully lived every day of the years he’d been given. Not many people could say the same.
There were also a few wedding pictures mixed in and several of them holding babies wrapped in blue blankets, looking tired but happy. But mostly the shots were of Rory. In the meticulous arrangement, Prim saw love . . . and profound grief.
She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, and her heart ached for his parents’ loss.
“Come join me in the kitchen.” Deb’s eyes settled on the photos for a split second before she averted her gaze.
They’d arrived just before noon, and although Prim had offered to take her in-laws out for lunch, Deb wouldn’t hear of it. Which was why Prim followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen, where Deb predictably refused her offer of help.
There was no choice but to sit at the table while her mother-in-law tossed together a lunch of homemade mac ’n’ cheese accompanied by a crisp green salad.
Connor and Callum dived into the mac ’n’ cheese like Prim hadn’t fed them in years. They might have ignored the salad except for the fact that Deb, recalling their penchant for dried cranberries, had mixed some in with the romaine. Prim had to hand it to her mother-in-law. The woman’s mind was like a steel trap when it came to what “her boys” liked. She’d been that way with Rory, too.
Immediately after lunch, Mike took the twins outside to play catch. He listened attentively while they prattled on about their T-ball “team.” Once again, Prim followed Deb, this time onto the front porch, where they sat in matching high-backed rockers with tall glasses of lemonade in hand.
While Prim believed her mother-in-law to be a fine woman and didn’t hold it against her that she’d been opposed to their marriage, she’d never been able to warm up to her. Even when Rory had been alive, she’d felt like an outsider. She wished she knew how to bridge the gap between them.
Deb’s eyes grew misty as she watched the twins play catch with their grandfather. Mike was in his early sixties and still very active, although Prim thought he might be favoring his right knee. Like his son, he’d been an athlete in his younger years.
“Mike has been looking forward to this visit.” Deb’s voice thickened with emotion. She cleared her throat before continuing. “I have, too. I realize we just saw the twins last month, but they already seem bigger to me.”
On that point, she and Deb were in total agreement. “It feels like every day they grow up a little more. They’re always learning something new.”
The boys were keeping their eye on the ball, just like Max had taught them. Prim’s heart swelled, a heavy, sweet mass in her chest.
“Are you all settled in your new home?”
“Pretty much.” Prim leaned back in the rocker, took a sip of the tart liquid. “The boxes are unpacked. I don’t have the place decorated the way I want just yet, but it’s starting to feel like home.”
Deb’s eyes grew distant with memories. “I always loved Good Hope.”
Prim remembered how involved the couple had been in the Good Hope social scene when they’d lived here. “I was surprised, shocked really, when you announced last year that you and Mike were moving away.”
“Too many memories there.” Deb’s smile turned melancholy, and Prim had to bite her tongue from saying, and yet you built a shrine to him here. “Each time I’d drive by the soccer field, I’d see Rory in his knee pads and cleats. I’m surprised it isn’t that way for you.”
Prim gave a noncommittal smile. There was no point in telling Deb that she hadn’t had that problem. For her, high school seemed like a lifetime ago. Most of her memories of Rory were in Milwaukee.
“I assume you’ll be staying home with the boys.” It was a statement, not a question, and Deb continued on as if no response was expected. “I never understood why you worked when you had babies at home who needed you. Not once did I regret my decision to put Rory first.”
This was old ground that, for some reason, Deb seemed determined to walk down again. Prim took a deep breath. “As I’ve explained before, I didn’t have a choice. We needed the health insurance through my job. Rory may have earned more as a contract employee, but health insurance wasn’t part of his benefit package.”
“Rory could have stayed under our coverage if he hadn’t married. He settled down so young, too young.” Distress filled her voice. “He was still a boy when he became a father. And while I am so very thankful for my grandsons, I don’t think Rory was ready.”
Prim merely sipped her lemonade. Once again, they were in total agreement. Getting pregnant on their honeymoon hadn’t been planned, and Deb was right, Rory hadn’t been ready. He’d loved his sons fiercely, but the bulk of meeting Callum’s and Connor’s needs had fallen on her shoulders.
“Kids will break your heart.” Deb heaved a heartfelt sigh. “As a parent you have to let them make their own decisions and their own mistakes.”
Prim’s fingers clutched the cut-crystal tumbler so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“Oh, my, look at that throw.” Deb clapped her hands, her face alight with pride. “Wonderful job, Callum.”
“Grandpa threw me a ball that went way high,” Connor called out, obviously not wanting to be left out. “I kept my eye on the ball and I catched it.”
Caught it, Prim corrected silently.
“I saw that, sweetheart. You’re both doing so well.” Deb lowered her voice and turned back to Prim. “I’m happy to see that you’re getting them involved in the community, but I’m not sure T-ball is the best choice. Their father found the game slow and tedious. I’m certain in time they will, as well. Have you looked into getting them into a soccer league?”
“That experience will have to wait until spring.” Prim kept her tone casual. “I missed the sign-up for the fall league.”
“You’ll just have to put that on your calendar so you don’t miss it again. It’s not fair for children to suffer because of our negligence.”
Prim forced herself to breathe, in and out, as she counted slowly to ten.
Deb tapped her finger against the side of her glass. “On second thought, I’ll go online and look up those dates for spring. That way I can text you when it’s time t
o sign up.”
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to do it. Some of my favorite memories were sitting in those soccer stands and watching my son play.” Deb’s brow furrowed. “But after a while, just driving past those nets and bleachers became too painful. That’s when I knew we had to move.”
The lines on Deb’s face had deepened since the death of her only son, Prim realized, and her anger melted away in a flood of sympathy.
Prim touched Deb’s hand. “Rory was a star.”
It was all the encouragement her mother-in-law needed. Prim had heard the stories many times, had even been present during some of the highlights, but out of respect she would listen again.
Prim sipped her lemonade and watched her boys play catch with their grandpa while Deb took a familiar trip down memory lane, recounting all of Rory’s athletic and social triumphs.
By the time the game of catch ended and Deb paused to take a breath, Prim was exhausted. When the boys tumbled through the front door, eager for the promised piece of chocolate cake—their daddy’s favorite—Prim didn’t even protest.
Over the course of the evening, Prim lost count of the number of times Rory’s name was mentioned. She only knew if she’d been doing shots each time she heard it, she’d be passed out drunk on the floor by now.
It wasn’t Deb’s or Mike’s fault. She understood their need to keep their son’s memory alive. Yet even when Rory had been alive, it had been this way. It had all been about him. It was still all about him.
She’d never liked feeling invisible, never liked being the one who’d tied Rory down when he should have been out there living life to the fullest, never liked being the one who’d gotten pregnant when they’d decided—actually when Rory had decided and she’d agreed—not to have children.
That, too, was old ground. Prim still recalled the horrified look on Deb’s face the day she’d reached her limit and snapped that it took two to make a baby. She was nearing that point now but knew losing control would serve no purpose.
“Well.” Prim rose from the living room sofa when the last video of Rory’s exploits on the soccer field ended. “I think it’s time I hit the road.”
“You’re leaving?” Mike’s kind eyes, so blue and so like his son’s, were astonished.
“I thought you were planning on staying,” Deb said, already rising to walk Prim to the door. “Though I certainly understand if you need to get home for the dog.”
“My other grandpa is watching Boris.” Callum looked up from the floor where he’d been building a Lego bridge while watching the “movie.”
“Yeah,” Connor added. “We dropped Boris off before we left.”
“I didn’t want him to spend all day and evening alone.” Prim had rehearsed what to say if she decided not to stay. It was the reason she’d left her bag in the trunk of the car, rather than bringing it in when she’d arrived. “Boris can be a bit of a mischief maker.”
“One time he got into the garbage and dragged it all over the house.” Callum gestured wide with his arms.
“He barfed on the couch once.” Connor held his nose. “It smelled really bad.”
Deb looked properly horrified. “That would never be tolerated in my home.”
“It’s what dogs do,” Callum said solemnly. “Sometimes he—”
“I’m sure Grandma has heard enough stories.” Prim shot both boys a warning look.
“I’m thankful Rory never wanted a dog.” Deb waved a dismissive hand. “He was too busy with his activities to have time for one anyway.”
Prim saw no need to mention that shortly before Rory died, he’d brought up the possibility of them getting a puppy. She’d put her foot down. Working full-time, caring for twin toddlers, and having a husband who seemed to be gone more than he was home had stretched her to the breaking point.
She wished he’d have gotten the chance to have a dog, but it hadn’t been the right time. Now it was too late.
Prim kissed the boys good-bye, hugged her in-laws. She promised to drive safely and not go over the speed limit on the trip home.
Before she reached the highway, she stopped at a convenience store to grab a cola and wash down a couple of ibuprofen. By the time she hit Green Bay, her headache, like Appleton, had been left in the dust.
Chapter Fifteen
It was after five by the time Prim reached Good Hope. Though she had the time, Prim decided to let Boris spend the night and get him in the morning.
Anita would likely be with her father, and Prim had no desire to see her headache return. When she turned onto her block she noticed that while most of the houses in the neighborhood showed signs of life, Max’s house looked empty and dark.
She wondered where he was tonight.
None of your business, she told herself as she pulled into the attached garage and let the door glide shut behind her. After bringing her suitcase inside, she went out to the porch to get the mail.
Still no signs of life next door.
Once inside, Prim tossed the mail onto the kitchen table, then took a moment to respond to a rather abrupt-sounding text from Eliza. She added a smiley face to the return message that assured the executive director she and Max had the parade under control.
Once she’d hit Send, Prim realized that while her headache might be gone, she still felt jittery and on edge, as if something momentous was about to happen, which was totally crazy.
The only thing momentous in her night was likely a glass of wine or a bowl of ice cream. She smiled. Considered. Why not both?
First she set about getting comfortable. In the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and pulled on a pair of loose cotton pants and a tank. She slipped her feet into atomic-orange flip-flops before returning to the kitchen.
After plopping a large dip of rocky road in a bowl, Prim poured herself a glass of Brachetto d’Acqui, a dessert wine Fin had recommended. Known for its floral notes and hints of red berries, it was supposed to be great accompaniment to anything chocolate.
As the night was beautiful with a light breeze to keep the bugs away, Prim took the food and drink to the patio and flipped on the outdoor lights.
She started to sit down, then realized she’d left her phone on the counter. While inside, Prim discovered the book Deb had specifically asked her to bring with her to Appleton sitting on the counter.
In her rush to get on the road, she’d left Rory’s high school annual behind. Impulsively, she scooped it up along with the mail, a handful of napkins, and her phone.
She ate a spoonful of the deliciously decadent ice cream while flipping through the mail. Most were bills forwarded from her Milwaukee address.
The official-looking envelope with a prominent Milwaukee law firm’s name had her tossing the other pieces of mail aside and slitting open the vellum with her finger.
The settlement check dropped into her lap as she read the letter.
Closing her eyes, Prim leaned back in her chair. She’d wanted the closure, had needed the closure. But as she opened her eyes and stared at all the zeroes, a healthy dose of pain laced her relief. Was this all a man’s life was worth?
Fighting a surge of anger, Prim stuffed the letter and the check into the envelope. The money would provide her and her boys with financial security for the rest of their lives. But a good man had died because of a company’s careless disregard, and that was nothing to celebrate. In fact, the thought made her slightly sick.
She took a fortifying drink of wine, then opened the yearbook, deliberately avoiding the back section with all the sporting pictures. There’d been enough talking, enough thinking, of Rory in the past twenty-four hours. Keeping to the middle of the book, she let it fall open. To her surprise, Prim found herself gazing at her own smiling face.
A much younger version of herself, to be sure. She looked happy, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
The photo was of her and Max. He looked happy, too, with his
arm looped around her shoulders. Her heart gave a little ping. They were holding up their mathlete medals and grinning like idiots.
As she studied the photo, something rustled in the bushes. She looked up and saw a figure in the shadows. She surged to her feet, her heart racing.
Close. So close. No time to call for help. No time to run. He’d catch her before she made it to the door.
“You better get out of here,” she called out with a show of false bravado. “I’ve called the sheriff. He and his deputies will be here any second.”
Heart thumping, she tightened her grip on the book, the scream turning to a whimper when Max stepped into the light.
He lowered the fireplace poker he held like a fencing foil and gestured to the glass of red wine. “Got any more of that?”
“What the heck, Max?” The book slipped from Prim’s fingers and fell to the chair. “You scared me to death. And what’s with the poker?”
Her hair, the color of the sky at sunset, was a billowing cloud around a too-pale face.
“I’m sorry,” he said with genuine regret. “I thought you were in Appleton. I saw the light out back and I wanted to be prepared.”
Her eyes went round as quarters. “You thought my house was being robbed.”
“As you’d told me only this morning you planned to be out of town for several days, it seemed a good possibility.”
She cocked her head as if listening. “Should I expect police sirens?”
It had been his first impulse, and he’d had the number keyed in, just in case. “I didn’t call Swarts. I thought I’d check things out myself first.”
Her brow furrowed. “If there was a burglar, you could have been hurt. They might have had a gun.”
“Worried about me?”
“Of course,” she said immediately. “You—you matter to me. You’re my friend.”
Max glanced at the bowl of ice cream and the nearly empty glass of wine and strove to inject a little levity into the situation, which still felt tense.
“I believe it’s customary when friends stop over to offer refreshments.”