Jack interrupted. “Right now, it’s not about ‘getting over’ it; it’s about ‘getting on’ with it. With daily life.”
“That’s true,” said Laura. “The days and weeks keep rolling around. Holidays, birthdays...You can’t stop the solar system.”
“Luke’s birthday is this Friday,” said one of the men. “He would have been sixteen, so we’re bringing him a set of car keys when we visit.” Luke’s dad put on a game face, but his eyes...oh, his eyes!
My palm started to itch.
“Great choice,” said Bill. “Every kid counts down the days to the car keys. Birthdays are tough.” Again, he looked my way.
“Every day is tough,” I managed.
“So, what did you do on Kayla’s last birthday?”
My throat closed; I waved him away. He turned to Jack.
“I-I went to work as usual. For lunch, though, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kayla’s favorite.”
“Favorite foods are a good idea,” said someone else. “We always go to Travis’s favorite restaurant or try one we think he would have liked. The important thing is the whole family’s there, talking about Travis and remembering him. It makes us feel like he’s somehow...closer.”
I could only imagine what the guy meant. Jack and I didn’t “celebrate” Kayla’s birthday together.
“Claire?” Bill sounded far away.
“Hmm?”
But it was Jack who walked over. “Claire! What are you doing?”
Startled, I jerked in my chair. And then I saw what he’d meant. I’d sketched Luke’s dad—with emphasis on his shadowed brown eyes—so sad, so sad. I pushed it toward the man. “For you.” Then I turned to Jack.
“So, you want to know what I did on Kayla’s birthday?” I asked, yanking a clean sheet of paper. With three bold strokes, I produced Kayla’s grave. A dervish of swirls showed the flowers I’d planted, then came the soccer ball. Of course.
I grabbed another sheet and, with lightning speed, drew a cartoon Claire sitting on a bench, a sandwich in her hand.
“Mine was a PBJ too.” I looked up at Jack. “You should’ve been there.”
“Well, bless my soul,” said Bill. “She doesn’t say much, but she sure packs a wallop when she draws.”
“I’m getting used to it,” Jack replied before turning away.
JACK
Personal man-woman stuff between Claire and me wasn’t meant for the group, at least not to my way of thinking. This wasn’t a marriage counseling session, nor did I want it to be. So I waited until we were back in the truck before spitting out what was gnawing at my insides.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your plans for Kayla’s birthday? Or are you giving up speaking in favor of pencil drawings?”
“Would you have come with me if I’d invited you?”
Answering a question with a question. When had she learned to play defense?
“Probably.”
“That’s bullshit, Jack. You would have made excuses and gone to work. You bail out on everything I do for Kayla. You didn’t even want Reverend Carroll to be with us for the first anniversary.”
She was right. “Who else does what we did, asking a minister to conduct another service a year later—and at the cemetery to boot? The answer is, nobody. But I went along with it, didn’t I? I did it for you.”
“Well, thank you very much,” she replied. “Want a pat on the back? There’s no law prohibiting what we did. And there are no rules we have to follow about remembering our daughter. Marking the anniversary just made sense to me,” she said more quietly. “I thought gathering the family together there would keep her closer to all of us.”
“Well, it didn’t work. You know what we should have done? Balloons! Like what the folks in the group suggested after seeing your drawing. We should have gone to the soccer field and let balloons go for her—with messages inside. Something fun and meaningful. Something Kayla.”
She was listening, her head cocked toward me, but she remained silent. Still, I was encouraged to push on.
“Our daughter is always with me, Claire. And I know she’s with you too. In our hearts. In our thoughts. Don’t you find it ironic—sadly ironic—how, in her absence, Kayla’s the one who remains close while everyone else has drifted apart?”
I watched her wipe her eyes from time to time, but I wasn’t going to be the comforter. My brain was filled with everything I’d heard that evening, with some hard truths I had to accept. I was having my own issues. I started the truck and made our way down the ramps of the garage. Once outside, I lowered the windows.
“Fresh air all right with you?”
“Perfect. Maybe it’ll clear my head.”
Hers wasn’t the only one that needed clearing, but for awhile, I concentrated on finding my way out of the unfamiliar medical center area and back to the interstate.
“The meeting was a lot tougher than I thought it would be,” I admitted.
“Really? I found comfort. In fact, I intend to be a regular now. I liked that the people weren’t preachy. I’m so glad you talked me into going.”
More irony. I guess I should be used to these roller-coaster days, where nothing went as planned. “What a switcheroo—you rushing back while I’m not sure I want to give it another shot.”
“Why not? The group really understands what we’ve been through. More than my mother and your mother do. More than my sister does. When I cried tonight, no one told me to get over it.”
“Don’t exaggerate about our families. No one says that.”
“Maybe not always with words, but with their expressions. I can read their nuances, so don’t tell me otherwise.”
“Fine. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. The group’s working for you, and that’s the whole point of the exercise.”
I guess I came here tonight looking for some ‘atta boys.’ But it didn’t turn out that way. No one I’d met tonight seemed to understand that however hard I’d tried to pull the family together, I’d failed. I’d lost everyone—not only Kayla. But then I wondered if maybe I hadn’t explained it well enough. Maybe I hadn’t communicated. Now, there’s a word that came up a lot.
“Did you say something?”
I shook my head. “Not important.” Her quizzical look fell on me just as I exited the freeway and headed toward our neighborhood.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk, I will,” she said, turning my way. “I was just thinking that we were the only couple there who...who weren’t a couple anymore. Who live apart.”
The sound of her drumming fingernails echoed in the vehicle, but before she could continue, I cut her off.
“That’s true. We have issues that these people don’t. These couples are focused only on their child and remembrances. Warm memories. Each couple is a team on the same wavelength. But you and I? Hell, we’re in two different worlds.” I could feel my stomach start its familiar burn. “Can you reach into the glove box and grab my antacids?”
By the time she managed to find the roll, I was pulling into our driveway. I let the motor idle as I popped a pill. “Jack?”
Her fingers curled around mine. By the dome light, I could see how compressed her mouth was, how tense she looked. “Different worlds?” she whispered. “If you think there’s no road back, then we might as well call it quits.”
No! I reached across the wheel and turned the key to the off position with my left hand. Silence settled around us, except for the sound of cicadas in the grass.
“Never mind about Ian and the baby,” she said, “because this is about Claire and Jack Barnes. About how you and I fell apart in the face of every parent’s nightmare. In the end, our problems are not about Kayla. They’re about us.”
Her hands clutched mine now, their strength matching the passion in her voice, the passion of a valid argument. I recognized this wife of mine, this familiar version. Intelligent, caring, brave. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time.
“When did you get so smart aga
in, Claire?” I sounded hoarse. My throat hurt forming the words.
“I don’t know what you mean, but...” She gestured widely with her arm toward the house then back to us. “Do you really want to walk away? Give up on us? Give up on making a life together?”
We’d need a new foundation for that life, but I was starting to believe I couldn’t pour the cement by myself.
“The truth is, Claire, that I’d rather continue at the motel than come home to...to what we’ve had recently. What kind of relationship is it, with you in the studio painting secret pictures and me at the office until after dark? That’s not how we used to be. That’s not a real marriage.”
“I agree,” she replied quickly. “But you heard what they said tonight. Our family isn’t what it used to be either, and if you think we’ll ever recover completely from losing Kayla, you’re deluding yourself. Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Please. Give me some credit.”
“Point taken. Sorry.” She sighed and glanced at the home we’d built together. “You know, the house wasn’t so big when the kids and their friends were around. But lately, man, has it grown!”
We both laughed; we needed the comic relief, dark though it was, and whatever tension remained between us dissipated into the soft night air. “Not to worry, Claire-de-Lune. It’s a sturdy house. Just needs a bit of remodeling.” I looked into her eyes. “A bit of work.”
“Yes. It’s something to think about.”
I wanted to kiss her. Hell, I wanted to make all-out love to her. I wanted to remove every piece of clothing she wore, one by one by one, until silky skin was all I saw and touched. But love making was a trap. It would be too easy to fall back into old, comfortable habits.
Comfortable? I swallowed a laugh. With a single sultry look, Claire could make my heart pound, pulse race, and manhood stand at attention, as it was threatening to do right now. But the future was too important to ruin with an impetuous evening’s delight.
“Go inside and lock up. I’ll be back at five.”
I watched until the kitchen light went out and wondered if I was just a damn fool.
Chapter 34
CLAIRE
Wednesday morning
Ian lived in a second floor unit of an eight-plex of apartments. My first glance took in window shutters hanging askew, missing sills, and neglected landscaping. The clapboard siding, surely pristine white in earlier years, was now faded to gray. All in all, a sad greeting to visitors.
“There should be a large protest sign on the roof saying, ‘Paint Me,’” said Jack.
“You read my mind.”
He drove around back to the assigned parking areas for each cluster of buildings as if he’d done it a dozen times. I, on the other hand, would have needed a GPS system to find the place.
“I’m impressed.”
He cocked a brow and grinned. “You should be. I’ve been here only once.”
“I hope Ian’s apartment looks better on the inside than the buildings do on the outside. Maybe I should have brought rubber gloves and detergent.” I took a sip of my to-go coffee and started opening the door.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Take a hard look around. Can you guess which apartment is Ian’s?”
I felt my forehead contract. The entire complex was a mess. How would I pick out Ian’s unit? Jack continued to stare at me, a gleam in his eye, and I began examining the exterior of the building.
It took less than the minute Jack gave me to figure it out. I pointed above and to the right. “Second floor at the end. Of course that’s his,” I whispered. Two pairs of windows sported gleaming white shutters, hung straight and square, with sills to match. Jack’s smile stretched across his face.
“The Barnes genes are still thriving, so you can forget about rubber gloves and detergent. But he needs us, Claire. He doesn’t even know how much. We’re here to help, not criticize him.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you.”
He put up his hands. “Okay, okay. Everyone is so damn sensitive, I feel like I’m walking on hot coals.”
I waited until he exited the truck, then stood before him, tilting my head back to see him eye-to-eye. “I’m willing to walk on hot coals for the sake of our son and granddaughter. Thinking about that little peanut makes me happier. Whatever we do and say today affects how Ian sees us and his future.”
“So we tread carefully. The boy has pride. He’s been through a lot, not only with the baby but with a girl he must have loved.”
“I know, I know.” Sighing, I touched his wrist. “This isn’t the way I thought we’d become grandparents. Having grandbabies wasn’t even a blip on my radar with our kids being so young. First, I thought we’d have watched them fall in love....”
Jack’s fingers threaded through mine as we started walking toward the entrance. “We would have planned a wedding or two.”
“But that’s not going to happen now,” I said quietly.
He stopped cold. “Congratulations. That’s the first comment you’ve made since Kayla died that’s grounded in reality. You’re finally seeing straight.”
“Damn it, Jack, stop judging me! Didn’t you hear what they said at the group last night? What I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times, but you never believed me? Married or not, we’re different individuals. So we grieve at different speeds and in different ways. Our own ways. There’s no right and wrong.”
We pushed the entrance door open and searched for Ian’s mailbox and bell.
“Seems to me, we weren’t so different after Kayla died. We both cried so hard we couldn’t breathe without pain. Off-the-chart kind of pain,” Jack said. “We were in unison then, weren’t we, Claire?”
He had a point, but I was trying to let go of the past and look ahead. “As the saying goes, that was then, and this is now.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I don’t believe a word of that. Especially coming out of your mouth. Sure, it’s time to forget the old dreams we had for our kids—the graduations, the falling-in-love, the marriages, and all the frippery. But after we push those disappointments away, we’ve still got two children in the apartment upstairs who need us. And our son needs to dream again. He...he deserves to dream again.”
The heart of the matter. I smiled up at him and stroked his cheek. “This is finally something we can agree on.” After pressing Ian’s bell in the downstairs lobby, I waited for his voice over the intercom and the electric buzz to let us in.
They didn’t come. “This is ridiculous. The system’s probably broken. I’ll need a set of keys if I’m to be a regular sitter.”
Jack reached for his mobile. “We’ll need two sets.”
My good mood faded. I guess he liked motel living more than he let on.
JACK
Ian showed up in thirty seconds cradling the baby in one arm like a football.
“Dad! I didn’t expect you. What about work? Come on up.”
His surprise at seeing me was comical. Claire and I followed him up the stairs and into the apartment. “The office can wait till tomorrow while I visit with my son and granddaughter for a bit.”
“A bit is all you’ll get of me.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got exactly ten minutes.”
“Still loving it, huh?”
“It’s a great job, Dad. Pays well enough to handle most expenses. Colleen never chipped in for rent anyway.” His tone went from upbeat to hurting in a single breath.
The girl had had a good deal—and a good eye. My son was fighting through his disappointment. A man in the making.
“So, who wants Tina first?”
He offered up the baby like a prize, and Claire reached for her with the speed of light.
Next he grabbed for his keys and wallet.
“Whoa, Ian,” I said. “We’ll need a few items such as house keys, car seat, formula, some directions for her. Where are the diapers and salves?”
My son stared at me as if I’d landed from Mars, a
nd I chuckled. “Don’t you think I know how to diaper a baby? Your mother didn’t change every single one of yours.”
“Well, I guess it runs in the family then. Tina’s stuff is in the bedroom, and I’m outta here.” He waved and closed the door behind him, then popped back in, kissed Tina, and left again.
I looked at Claire. She looked at me.
“Three times,” she said.
“Huh?”
“You changed his diaper exactly three times.”
“Well,” I said, grinning, “those were three less times you had to do it.”
Forty-seven and still so cute. Especially when she rolled her eyes. And when she cast them on Martina Faith Barnes, my wife was absolutely beautiful.
“Born to be a mother,” I said.
Instantly, tears emerged. “Don’t go there, Jack. Not today.” She lifted her chin. “I’m a woman of many talents...as you well know.”
Oh, I knew all right. And I always appreciated a couple of those talents very much. She, on the other hand, was probably thinking about different skills—painting, decorating, mothering. Now she was a grandma...and it was time to put my mind on other things.
“How shall we spend the day with our gorgeous grandbaby?” I watched Claire nuzzle the infant, face buried in the tiny neck, inhaling the aroma of innocence and new beginnings. The sight jogged my memory. I saw Claire holding Kayla again, and my chest hurt. I’d wanted to be the Hulk, strong enough to protect the people I loved from any and all danger. I knew better now. My sweet Kayla. I hadn’t been able to save her. No one had saved her.
My fingers trembled, and I stared down at hands usually so strong and capable, just like dads were supposed to be. Like I was supposed to be. Perhaps in my former life...not so much now.
“What are we doing, Claire?” My voice rasped, and Claire spun toward me.
“What do you mean?”
“Another child.”
“Another chance to love.”
“Or face more heartbreak somewhere down the line.”
She didn’t reply immediately, and I remained silent too. Then she said, “We’re marching toward fifty, Jack. How many people get that far without heartache?”
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