by Lori Lapekes
And at last, she was.
Lynell took Catherine’s hand, and their dirty, flower-planting fingers entwined. “Daniel would want you to marry Abel,” she said. “He appreciated Abel’s friendship. There was some kind of understanding between them I think only creative souls can connect with.” She squeezed Catherine’s hand, and a stream of light broke through the leaves and settled on her face, making it seem angelic and much younger than her fifty-eight years.
“You truly think Daniel would understand?” asked Catherine.
“He’d be doing cartwheels in heaven.”
Catherine smiled and gently reached forward to trace Daniel’s name on the tombstone. As she did so her long braid fell forward and settled in the grass.
“Maybe you can cut your hair at last,” said Lynell. “That is, if you want to.”
Catherine straightened and pushed back the braid. She hadn’t cut her hair since Daniel had died, and the thick, four-foot braid she always wore had become a burden to her sometimes. A burden she’d willingly imposed upon herself. Daniel had loved his long hair, and when she’d found out he’d had to have it shaved off near the end of his life, she’d grown hers as a kind of compensation.
“Maybe I’ll shorten it one day soon,” said Catherine. “Although, Hazel would miss batting it around.” She looked to her left, where a scrappy, older white cat basked in the sun on top of another headstone. Catherine had taken Hazel the feline with her after leaving the VanHoofstryver estate in Maryland five years ago to begin her own veterinary practice in Daniel’s hometown in Michigan. She’d grown so fond of Daniel’s mother that, in the absence of Mrs. VanHoofstyver, Lynell became much like the mother she had never really known well.
Simply put, they’d needed each other.
And so had JoAnne and Joey, college friends of Catherine’s. They were now married and lived in a nearby town. An added delight was little Juliette, their adorable four-year-old daughter. Juliette had inherited so many of both her parents’ goofy mannerisms that it was impossible to remain blue any time the child was within range.
It had become a good life, just as Daniel had honestly wanted for her. So good, in fact, that her memories of Daniel became fragmented. Even when she’d wanted to cling to them, hold onto them for dear life and wedge them deep into her soul, they’d begun to slip away. Now, some of her memories were mere memories of memories, and it shocked and saddened her when she’d first realized it. It seemed she was losing him all over again, although it didn’t hurt in the same way. For the longest time, just looking at Lynell would fling her back into the past…and Mrs. LaMont’s eyes would become Daniel’s eyes… her hair, Daniel’s hair, her nose…Daniel’s nose. But now, she was just a beautiful, compassionate woman Catherine couldn’t imagine not having in her life. Finally, when looking at Lynell now, Catherine saw only Lynell.
And that was how it should be. How it was meant to be, she supposed.
A smile nudged Catherine’s lips as her eyes wandered past Lynell to the lazy cat still hanging over the edge of the tombstone. “I think it’s time Hazel leaves her unconventional new sunning spot and we get back to the clinic. I’ve got two more cats to spay and a black lab’s hip to check on before Abel comes over this afternoon. He said he wants to take me someplace, ah… interesting.”
Lynell lifted a knowing eyebrow. “With Abel, it’s probably not going to be a new restaurant or trendy hangout.”
“No, as a matter of fact, he said I should bring my medical bag. Just in case.”
Both women arched their eyebrows in bemused wonder.
You just never knew with Abel.
Catherine took a long, final look at Daniel’s resting place then she and Lynell clasped hands and pulled themselves to their feet. They collected their things and wandered down the hill to the parking lot with a ghostly white cat tiptoeing behind them.
About the Author
Born in the small town of Wayland, Michigan, Lori has been writing since she was about 10 years old. Raised in the country with goofy siblings, a few strange neighbors, and many animals, Lori has cemented her own “quirkiness” through a series of unusual factory jobs and a two-year stint in art school. Presently she works as a graphic artist, while at long last realizing her true dream of becoming a published author of off-beat, Midwestern novels.
Acknowledging that most people who hear voices in their heads are called schizophrenic, she knows that when these voices are put to paper and assigned names, the creator of these characters are then labeled…writers! Lori believes her novels will especially resonate with people in “fly-over” country.
Lori grew up and spent most of her life in the small town of Wayland, Michigan. She now lives in Grand Rapid, Michigan, with her ball-obsessed German shepherd, Maddy, a three footed cat named Tippy, and the formerly Mr. Starvin’ Marvin the marvelous kitty.
Also From Astraea Press:
I first saw him in 2007, at a cancer fundraiser concert in Atlanta, Georgia. I drove four hours from Alabama to see him because my curiosity was stronger than my common sense.
He wasn’t what I expected, to be honest. He was just as famous for his blue eyes as he was for his voice, and I wondered why disappointment filled me. I guess he just wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. Sitting across the auditorium, I couldn’t tell much about him except his face was a little scruffy and his dark hair longer than Emily had described.
I stood there, among all his fans, watching him. I felt like a stalker with the picture tucked securely in my back pocket. But I didn’t want to think about the picture at that moment. I wanted to see him for the man he really was.
He sang their latest ballad, his voice a scratchy, honeyed whiskey. The girls up front swayed as they waved their cell phones and lighters. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the grin. If I had been a little younger, I might have been tempted to join in. My twenty-eight years owned too much sadness for me to feel so carefree.
As he sang, my heart broke a little more. Emily would have smiled her brilliant smile and been so excited, because after all, I knew now the song was about her.
I’ll breathe life into you
Just tell me when you need me to.
I’ll give you what you need
If only you’ll believe in me.
Tears shone on his face from across the stadium. I could hear the tremble in his voice as he sang the words. This was Emily’s song, and it was obvious he sang it for her, no matter who else listened. His eyes were closed and occasionally his fingertips tapped his heart.
When the song was over, tears streamed down my face and I clapped until my hands hurt. I looked around me at the unfamiliar faces and pretended I didn’t know the story behind the song. Almost everyone was here for entertainment. The occasional few might have come out of support for a loved one with cancer. But I was here for a reason.
I just wished I knew what it was.
Chapter One
I paid good money to get into the after-party with the band. In fact, I spent pretty much my life savings just for the off chance I might get to speak with him. But the second I walked in, I realized my mistake. I didn’t belong here among the half-dressed women with their fumbling footsteps and slurred speech.
I wasn’t the kind of girl who threw herself at someone. Not even him. Someone offered me a drink and I immediately declined and sought the nearest corner of the room. Maybe observation would give me a clue as to what I needed to do next.
I sat down and looked around, spotting him immediately in the opposite corner of the room, surrounded by fourteen girls. Yes, I counted. Fourteen pairs of lust-filled eyes enticed him like they were his own personal harem from which he could choose one or several. Disgust rose thick in my throat and threatened to choke me. This was who he was. It was what he did.
I should have known.
I didn’t mean to stare. But I was much closer to him than I had been at the concert, and I could see those eyes now. Magazines and the internet would never do them just
ice. They were the color of the sky. But the analogy still didn’t seem to adequately describe how...electric and full of life they were. They missed nothing, those twin blue flames, deeply set in a strong, chiseled face.
He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. There was something about the way he filled out that shirt with muscles straining against the sleeves and his chest obviously the product of a lot of gym time. Those wide shoulders and his narrow waist made him the perfect upper body specimen–not too small and not too large. He wore boots that made him look both sloppy and put-together.
After a few minutes, he broke free of his groupies and went to get something to drink. The refreshment table was situated next to the back wall close to where I sat. I tried to look away but my eyes were glued to him, taking in every movement, each breath. He was magnificent in his confidence, surveying the room as he twisted off the cap of a beer, but I still felt like a stalker.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a few swigs. A moment later, a frown creased his brow and he tossed the full bottle in the garbage. He looked frustrated or bored; I wasn’t sure which. As if he waged an inner war with himself, his hand hovered over a different brand of beer, but at the last minute, he grabbed a bottle of water instead with a glance in my direction.
My heart stopped when those eyes met mine. A marathon of introductions were running through my head but they all sounded so trite in light of the reason I was here.
He gave me a small smile and nodded his head once, but thankfully walked away. I was in over my head. Here I had spent my life savings just for the opportunity to talk to him, and I froze the second it landed in my lap.
The party blared on, drilling the incessant bass into my brain to the tempo of my thumping heart. Women gyrated against sweating men, shedding their clothing the more the beer next to me disappeared. Yet, I didn’t move.
At one point, a guy tried to make small talk. I nodded and smiled in all the appropriate places. I gave him short, staccato answers to his questions. No way did I want to encourage him. He was half-lit and kept getting in my line of sight for Nicholas. Eventually, he got the hint and left with an exasperated sigh.
“You haven’t moved all night,” came a voice to my left. When I looked into those blue eyes, I jerked in surprise and my heart stopped again.
I tried to smile, but my lips felt rigid, all those practiced greetings forgotten.
“Can I get you anything? Are you feeling okay?” He sat down so close to me our thighs touched. My heart tripped into overdrive and I felt like a skittish kitten, ready to bolt. His raised eyebrows and frown touched some part of me deep inside. When he placed his hand over mine, for a moment I wondered if he was sincere. It didn’t seem to jive with what I knew about him so far.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want to dance or something? You look bored.”
“I was just thinking that about you.”
When I said it, he laughed. The smile lit up his whole face. He had laugh lines around his eyes that made him look more attractive. A small dimple in his left cheek flashed at me. He casually draped his arm around the back of the couch. The move might have felt suspicious anywhere else.
“You caught me. These parties aren’t my thing lately.”
I wondered if it had anything to do with Emily, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m Nicholas, by the way,” he said as an afterthought.
I grinned, relaxing a little. “I know.”
His eyes roamed my face, curiosity evident in their vibrant depths. “What’s your name?” he asked quietly.
“Sophie,” I replied, a little breathless as his gaze whispered over me. “Sophie Alexander.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Now will you please tell me why you came to an after-party just to sit on the couch the whole time?”
His grin was contagious and I threw my hands up. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Maybe he could shed some light on what was appropriate after-party etiquette.
“You never answered my question.”
Confused, I frowned at him, waiting.
“Do you want to dance?”
Women glared and hovered nearby no doubt ready to grab him the second he left my side. A secret part of me reveled in the heady sense of power that, for the moment, he was all mine. But the logical side, no matter how absent it had been lately, told me not to.
“There are several other girls here who would love to dance with you.” I motioned with my eyes and he flapped a hand, dismissing them.
“Forget them. I want to dance with you.”
Nicholas didn’t wait for me to answer. A grin slid across his face as he tugged me to my feet. It took years off him, and I fell in love with his smile.
I didn’t particularly like to dance. In fact, I was horrible at it and was relieved when the song ended just as we made it to the dance floor. I shrugged and turned back around to sit down, but Nicholas’s hand reeled me back in to face him.
“Not so fast.” A slow song began, one I recognized as Emily’s song. Resignation bloomed on his face as the music swelled. It didn’t stop him though; he still pulled me into his arms. My first thought was how big he was. He was tall and his arms felt huge under my small hands. And strong. His protection surrounded me.
The room faded around me as I focused on Nicholas's face. It was impossible to concentrate on one particular area of beauty. But I had spent all day driving to see him and now here I stood in the haven of his arms. The weariness of the last six months hit me and I relaxed against him.
“There you go,” he said softly. “I don’t bite.” His words were soft against my ear as he started moving with me. Our feet shuffled and his hands stayed above my hips. So far, he was nothing like I thought. Could the rumors about his life be wrong? He was an enigma.
“This is a beautiful song.” I slid my arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” was all he offered, apparently not in the mood for conversation.
We danced through the song and he held me close, almost too tight. His fingers squeezed my sides and he clung to me as if his life depended on it. Had he singled me out somehow? Perhaps because he sensed I wasn't like anyone else here?
Emily’s song ended and another pulsing song began, yet Nicholas held me. I didn’t know what to think or do, so I stayed where I was. He finally pulled back enough to look at me.
He swallowed once, hard. Emotion swirled in his eyes like a hurricane brewing offshore. “I need to get out of here. Will you come with me?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"Please," he whispered.
I drew in a deep breath. “Sure.” Maybe the money spent on getting to this moment hadn't been in vain after all. I was leaving the party with Nicholas Cassidy.
Nicholas led me to the elevator. It looked like he was the womanizer the media painted after all. The question was, how did I feel about it? I wasn't sure. I didn’t do casual and he would know it if he tried anything. He pressed the button for the top floor, and we waited, my ears ringing from the silence. He didn't seem inclined to release my hand and I didn't try to pull free. He glanced at me and caught me looking at him. I quickly averted my eyes and trained them on the rising number above the door. His soft chuckle filled the elevator.
When the doors opened, we stepped out with our hands still entwined, and he tugged me in his wake as he crossed the hallway to the stairwell. Where were we going? I followed him up the stairs. We stopped at a door, and I stole a peek at Nicholas to find him watching me. His lips pulled into an engaging half-smile as he opened the heavy metal door and led me through. We were on the roof.
One look over the cityscape with the twinkling lights in the distance and I owned that city. Each light represented a person, a family. And acknowledging this, for just that instant, these people belonged to me…Nicholas belonged to me. His gentle squeeze planted me firmly back into reality, but I chose to see the view for what it was. God's beauty.
To my right, a
noise brought me out of my thoughts and I saw two forms meshed together in a line of mangled flesh and limbs. It didn’t take me long to realize it was the guy that tried to pick me up earlier. Nicholas cast them an annoyed glance and steered me away from them to the other side of the roof.
He finally stopped and we simply looked out over the city again. Rain from earlier that day still glistened on the rooftops and the street below. The smell of wet asphalt had me wrinkling my nose.
“I love it up here,” Nicholas finally said a little while later. “I can think.” I tore my gaze from the lights below us and met his eyes. But his look was too intense, too perceptive, and I looked away, twisting a false smile on my face. The lights beyond the roof were suddenly far more interesting than they had been earlier.
“It must be good inspiration up here for writing.”
He shook his head. “It’s not about that. We’re not here in Atlanta very often, but when we are, this is where I want to stay. I feel closer to God here.”
I closed my eyes as a small breeze lifted the hair at my temples. All the talk of God and the scenery reminded me of Emily.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. My eyes shot open and narrowed on Nicholas. I resisted the urge to look around and make sure he actually spoke to me. The fact that his attention was focused resolutely in my direction told me he was, in fact, talking about me. “You don’t even know it, do you?”
I ran my tongue over my lips and again avoided his gaze. I didn’t want to discuss me. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “What do you think about when you’re up here?”
He stood and walked into my line of vision. I could tell that I was just as much an enigma to him as he was to me by the way he pursued me. After all, I was the one he chose to come to the roof with, not someone else. “What do you do when you’re not bored at after-parties?”
“I’m a hospice nurse.”