“Megan, don’t worry. I told you there’s nothing between us.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ellen. I know how you and Jake were. That isn’t something that goes away with time.”
“I know,” Ellen finally conceded. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Megan nodded and then drove away. Ellen watched her go and then walked across the parking lot. She sat on the wooden bench in front of the mortuary and waited anxiously for Jake. She was restless, watching for his truck and feeling more nervous than she had all week. Not because of Megan’s warning. She was not afraid of Jake Sadler’s intentions.
She was afraid of her own.
25
Ellen heard the low rumbling sound of Jake’s truck seconds before it pulled into view. He climbed out and walked toward her, hesitating for a moment before pulling her into a hug. She buried her face in his pullover.
I can’t go with him. It’ll just hurt us both. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered.
Jake’s eyes filled with concern, and Ellen’s doubts dissolved like summer days. He was her first love, but he was also her friend. In all the world he was the only one she wanted to be with at that moment.
Unbidden, another verse drifted into her mind: “The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice.” She felt her cheeks go red.
He slid into the truck and put his seat belt on. “Everyone gone home?”
“Finally.” She closed the door and was surrounded by the scent of leather and cologne. She sank into the seat and released a heavy sigh.
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse. I don’t know, Jake, maybe it’s me. Jane’s still on the warpath and my mom’s wanting us all to be together every last minute leading up to the funeral. Aaron’s a time bomb and Megan’s playing peacemaker. Same old story.”
Jake pulled out of the parking lot and headed west on Mitchell.
“Where do you live?”
“Harbor Pointe, out in Harbor Springs.”
Ellen raised an eyebrow. “I know the area. Why didn’t you tell me you lived in the estates?”
“They’re not really estates. Just large subdivision homes.”
“I can’t believe you live in Harbor Pointe,” she said absently. She stared out the windshield and ran her fingers through her hair. “Guards at the gate, tennis courts, the bay in your backyard. Who’d have thought it? I mean, weren’t you the guy who was out to live life up and avoid commitment at all costs?”
Jake grinned sheepishly and his eyes twinkled with laughter.
“You couldn’t be serious about anything back then, Jake. Now look at you.”
He grew pensive and remained silent.
“You’re happy about it, aren’t you? The success I mean?”
“Sometimes. The house is nice, the cars and boat and hot tub. They’re all fine. But sometimes I think my life was richer when I was twenty-one and lived paycheck to paycheck.”
“Hmm.” Ellen nodded slowly. “I think that way, too, sometimes. Between Mike and me we do pretty well. We live in a nice, gated community with a two-story house a few blocks from the ocean. Nice cars, nice clothes, good jobs.”
“Doesn’t really help you sleep at night, does it?” He glanced at her and she shook her head, shifting so she could watch him drive.
She studied him, remembering him as he was and wondering what would have happened if, like his mother once hoped, she had waited for him to grow up. She saw that his eyes were distant. He seemed a million miles away, lost in some long ago memory.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Choices. Passages. Moments that make a difference for a lifetime.”
She considered his words and smiled. Choices. Passages. Moments that make a difference for a lifetime. This was the Jake she remembered, the one she had shared her heart with, the one she could talk to for hours without growing tired. For an instant she saw him as he used to be—a tan, fresh-faced boy who could see directly into her soul. She held the image and allowed herself to miss him as she hadn’t in years.
She turned away then and tried to remember the flip side. The strange phone calls from other girls at odd hours, unfamiliar notes left on his doorstep or under his windshield wipers. The impatient blond in his bathrobe. Ellen sighed. As good as things had been when they were together, it hadn’t been good enough.
She gazed out the side window, her back to Jake. Leslie hadn’t been the only one to warn her about him. Her father had seen it coming, too.
“He’s a fine boy, Ellen,” he’d said once. “I love him like a son. But I see how he is, the way he looks at other girls. He has ’em dropping like flies.” He touched her cheek gently, a gesture he’d done since she was a little girl. “You deserve better than that.”
“Okay,” Jake interrupted her thoughts. “Now it’s my turn. What’re you thinking?”
She turned toward him and answered quickly, “My dad.”
Jake was sympathetic. “You miss him?”
“I haven’t really had time. I keep thinking I’ll go back to my parents’ house and he’ll be in his easy chair watching a golf tournament or a baseball game or something.”
“Is there a viewing? At the mortuary?”
Ellen wrinkled her nose. “Yes. Tomorrow night. I’m dreading it.”
Jake nodded. “I bet. But his death will be more real after that, Ellen. You’ll be able to accept it better.”
Ellen thought about seeing her father’s body in the cold, satin-lined casket. “Yes,” she conceded. “I suppose so.”
They drove around the bay and continued along the water, through the town of Bay Harbor. In less than fifteen minutes they arrived at the gate. Jake waved to the man in the booth, turned left, and drove further out onto the peninsula. As the strip of land narrowed, he slowed the truck and turned left again into an impressive stone driveway.
“This is it? This is your house?” Ellen raised her eyebrows appreciatively.
Jake nodded and shrugged. Ellen studied Jake’s house. Some of the places they had driven past had been pretentious. This house was very different. An inviting Victorian, Jake’s home looked warm and filled with light. It seemed cared for and lived in, the type of house she might have picked for herself. Soft slate gray siding accented with white trim and an old-fashioned, white wraparound porch. It was a two-story home with dozens of white-rimmed French windows. The roof was the color of caramel. Heavily shingled, it peaked over a handful of smaller windows.
For all its homey warmth, Jake’s house was stunning, surrounded by a lush landscape and delicate petunias that bordered the home. There were panoramic views of the bay on one side and Lake Michigan on the other. The porch wrapped around the front of the house and from where Jake was parked, Ellen could barely see a redwood deck stretched out across the back. The bay was literally in his backyard and Ellen felt like she was surrounded by sandy beach.
“Jake—” she clasped her hands in delight—“it’s breathtaking.”
“Thanks.” He moved around the truck and opened her door. “I’m glad you like it.”
She followed him to the front door.
“Hungry?” He turned the key.
“Starved.” She hadn’t realized it until he asked, but she hadn’t eaten since late that morning and she was famished. They walked inside and she stopped to take in the beauty of the place. The numerous French windows allowed the room to bask in sunlight, bathing the white walls and walnut trim in warmth. The ceilings were vaulted, accented with skylights and plant shelves. His leather living room set looked warm and inviting.
“You did this?” She moved into the room and began wandering through the house.
“The doors and windows are mine.” She could see the pride in his eyes. “I hired a decorator for the rest.”
“Job well done. You could have Home and Garden here tomorrow and they’d do a centerfold on the place.”
Jake grinned and headed for the kitchen. “Want me to order pizza or somet
hing?”
She followed him, sliding onto a bar stool and leaning across an expanse of granite countertop. “I have a better idea.”
“Okay, what?” He opened the refrigerator door and twisted around to look at her.
“Omelettes. Filled with cheese and alfalfa sprouts, tomatoes and olives. Sour cream and salsa.”
Jake laughed and his eyes danced at the idea. “I haven’t made one of those in years.”
“Remember? We’d get home from the beach and be starved and we’d raid your mother’s fridge. You made the best omelettes, Jake. I mean it.”
He bent over and riffled through the icebox looking for ingredients. “Let’s see. Lots of eggs. Sprouts. Cheese.” He straightened, his arms filled with the ingredients. “You got it. Two omelettes coming up.”
She stood up and moved into the kitchen, pulling open several drawers until she found a knife. “Hand me the tomatoes. I’ll help chop.”
He backed away in mock fear. “Be careful with that thing. You never were much good in the kitchen.”
She wielded the small carving knife back and forth through the air, pretending to be dangerous.
“No, you don’t.” He grabbed her wrist with one hand and tickled her side with his other hand.
“Stop or you’ll be sorry.” She laughed, squirming to break free from his grasp. He let go and pretended to give up, but as she turned toward the cutting board he poked her once more in the ribs.
“Unless you want me to get the ice cubes and start an all-out war, you better stop, Jake Sadler.” She was flushed from laughing, breathless from the feel of his hand on her wrist.
“All right, all right. Get busy chopping.”
“Thank you!” she huffed. She caught three tomatoes as he tossed them her way.
They worked for twenty minutes preparing ingredients, and then Jake set to work. When he was finished he had two plate-sized omelettes, each oozing with vegetables, cheese, and sour cream.
“Mmmmm, smells like a restaurant.”
“Remember, I was going to open my own omelette shop on the beach somewhere.”
“That’s right.” She set two place mats side by side on the counter and filled two glasses with ice water. He joined her with the food and they sat down. “The way these things look you still could.”
“Nah. You’d be my best customer and you live a million miles away.”
“Eighteen hundred miles, to be exact.”
“Like I said,” his voice was suddenly serious, “a million miles away.” He glanced at her and their eyes held for a moment too long.
He grinned, trying to break the tension. “So since you can’t be around, the shop would probably go bust in a week. You’re the only one who ever liked my omelettes.”
She opened her mouth, teasingly astonished. “Jake! You mean you cooked omelettes for someone other than me? Shame on you!”
“I know.” He grinned. “The ultimate betrayal.”
“That’s right. Don’t forget it, either.”
They laughed, and Ellen savored how comfortable they were together. He excused himself and slipped a Christopher Cross CD into the player. Music filled the house through an intricate sound system, and Ellen smiled. They had both enjoyed Christopher Cross years ago and she remembered listening to his songs between movies at the drive-in theater. The atmosphere was soothing and she felt herself relax.
Ellen ate her omelette slowly, remembering dozens of times when she and Jake had done this before. It was a simple thing, really. Eating omelettes in the waning afternoon sunlight, sitting side by side alone in his house, listening to Christopher Cross. But it took her back, made her keenly aware of him and the fact that they were alone.
What did you expect? she chastised herself. She didn’t even try to answer that. She was afraid to do so. When they were finished they washed dishes together and put away food. Their conversation was light and when their elbows touched on occasion as they worked, they pretended not to notice.
“I’m stuffed.” Jake stretched.
“Me too.” She focused her attention on the pan she was drying. “You forget how filling an omelette can be. Especially if it’s been created by the master omelette maker himself.” She grinned at him.
When the kitchen was clean they went out back onto the partially covered wooden deck. The sun would set in a few hours and Ellen gazed thoughtfully across the bay toward Petoskey. A gentle breeze flowed across the water and the sky was free of clouds, a vast expanse of vivid blue.
Ellen walked to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing, studying the sandy beach below. “You’re right on the sand.”
Jake moved up beside her and leaned against the railing. “Hmm. I guess I always did have a thing for the beach.”
Ellen smiled, enjoying the easy sense of camaraderie they shared. It used to be like this with Mike. They used to share long, lovely days just being together, enjoying each other. She stared across the water and studied the distant shoreline. She could make out Petoskey State Park and Magnus Park. She could even see the pier at Bayfront with its dozens of sailboats and yachts, the flags that flew year round, and the beautifully kept Softball fields. After a while she wandered toward a porch swing and sat down.
She looked at Jake and patted the empty spot beside her. He sauntered in her direction and sat down, careful not to brush his legs against hers. She was silently thankful. Her resolve was vanishing at an alarming rate and any contact with him was bound to make things worse. As if he could sense her feelings, he moved casually toward the outside of the swing, allowing a comfortable distance between them.
“Dad always wanted a house like this,” Ellen said. She set the swing gently in motion. “On weekends we’d come look at these houses, and he’d talk about starting a business with his computer.” She looked at Jake. “There was always a reason why that business never got started, always something in the way.”
Jake sat there, watching her, listening.
“When I was little I thought my dad was the best man in the world, the most fun, the strongest. He could do anything he set his mind to. The whole nine yards.”
Jake looked intently into her eyes. “And now?”
“I’m not sure.”
He looked puzzled and she shook her head quickly.
“Don’t get me wrong. No one could ever take his place. But when I grew up I saw a clearer picture of him. I don’t know, maybe it’s only gotten clearer since his death. I think about his dreams and intentions, the times he was going to stop smoking, start a diet.”
Her eyes narrowed, seeing a thousand missed opportunities, and suddenly she felt the tears building. “You know what he said when he came out of heart surgery last year? He said he was through making excuses. Through procrastinating. He was going to be a new man, whatever it took.”
Jake’s face filled with compassion. “It didn’t happen.”
“No.” She shook her head sadly, a single tear spilling from each eye onto her cheeks. “He wasn’t strong enough.”
“That bothers you?”
“Yes.” She raised her voice. “I thought the world of him, Jake. But in reality he was just like anyone else. Just a man struggling to follow through with his intentions and failing in the end.”
The swing had slowed and she set it in motion again.
“Are you mad at him?” Jake’s voice was barely a whisper.
“That’s hard.” Ellen gazed thoughtfully at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, blazing a brilliant trail of pinks and oranges as it disappeared. She looked at Jake again. “I guess I am, in some ways. He could have had a house like this, a yard like this. He could have started the business and made it fly, and when he had to go through emergency bypass surgery it could have been a turning point in his life. He had the chances, Jake, but he didn’t take them. He wasn’t strong enough. That’s what kills me.”
She spread her fingers on her chest. “In here, where the little girl I used to be still lives, I know he could hav
e done it. I guess a part of me thinks he didn’t try. He gave up and sold us short.” Her voice cracked and she stopped swinging. Then slowly, she dropped her elbows to her knees and buried her face in her hands.
“Why, Jake? Why didn’t he at least try?”
Jake reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. His fingers made soothing circles just beneath her neck. “I’m sure he tried. At least give him that.”
“Not hard enough.” She looked up, knowing she must look blotchy and tearstained and not caring. “What’s a pack of cigarettes compared to us? What’s a cheeseburger or a bag of fries compared to your family? I mean, how hard could it be to give up that stuff when the alternative meant dying young, leaving us alone?”
“Ellen, come on. You’re not being fair. If it was that easy, heart disease wouldn’t be the killer it is today. You know that.”
She slumped over her knees, her face in her hands again. “I know.”
Taking deep breaths, she worked to calm herself down. She wiped her eyes with her fingertips. Jake’s arm was still on her shoulder, but when she sat up he removed it.
“Was he always like that?” Her voice was tired. “Weak, unable to follow through with things?”
“You tell me, Ellen.”
She thought a moment. “He worked three jobs to keep food on the table when we were little. And every Christmas there were so many toys under our tree it looked like something out of a fairy tale.”
Jake nodded. “He put you through college, didn’t he?”
“I paid for my books with tips from the restaurant. But he paid for everything else.” Ellen grew quiet. “And he sent me to Canada for a vacation after I graduated.”
“He wasn’t weak, Ellen. He just had some nasty habits, habits that were too hard to break.”
“Habits that killed him.” Ellen wiped at several fresh tears forging a new trail down her cheeks. “I loved him so much, Jake. Now that he’s gone nothing makes sense. My whole world is falling apart.”
She began to sob again, squeezing her eyes tight as if she could shut out the pain. She felt his arm go around her.
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