When they arrived at her old driveway, the first thing Jane noticed was that the mailbox that had read HAWTHORNE was gone. In its place was a PROPOSED LAND USE sign. Mrs. Hawthorne seemed to either not notice or not care as Jane passed it by and idled up the gravel drive toward the old yellow house.
There was a utility van in front of the house, and Jane parked next to it, got out, and went around and helped Mrs. Hawthorne from the car. The old lady leaned on her cane and looked up at the house, and they were each tilting so far left, woman and house, that Jane would not have been surprised if they had fallen over simultaneously. She held Jane’s arm for support, and together they walked toward the porch and slowly climbed the steps. They stopped in front of the door and Mrs. Hawthorne leaned in to Jane, then lifted her cane up to touch a rusty horseshoe hanging above the doorframe.
“This horseshoe brought us over fifty years of good luck in this old house. Carl and I found it on our honeymoon and hung it up when we moved in. I want you to have it, dear.”
“Are you sure?” Jane asked. “Don’t you want to keep it?”
“And hang it at that geriatric hoosegow they’ve got me tucked away in? I don’t think so. Besides, dear, it will bring me comfort knowing that it’s hanging above another door where love lives. I’d like to believe some things just keep going on.”
Jane looked up at the horseshoe. It was sad to think of this place being torn down. She remembered the first time she had come out here to try to sell Mrs. Hawthorne long-term care insurance. She remembered coming again with Caleb to pay for the goat.
She stretched up onto her tiptoes to pry the horseshoe free and was struggling with a stubborn nail when the door opened and a man ran into her and screamed. He jumped back into the house and fell flat on his behind. He sat there looking up at them and removed his headphones.
“You ladies scared the bejesus out of me,” he said. “All the guys at the shop keep telling me this place is haunted.”
“You had better hurry and tear it down,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, “because if I die before you do, I might just come back and haunt it for real.”
The man stood up and dusted himself off. “I’m just here pulling wire and fuses. Getting things ready for the wrecking ball. I take it this was your house, ma’am.”
“Yes, it was. I came back because I forgot something.”
He looked over his shoulder into the empty house. “There’s not much here, ma’am.”
“It’s this horseshoe above the door, young man. Would you mind prying it free for us?”
He removed the horseshoe and gave it to Mrs. Hawthorne. Mrs. Hawthorne presented it to Jane. Then they thanked the worker and returned to the car.
Jane was helping Mrs. Hawthorne into the car when the old lady rested her hand on the open door for support and turned to look back at her house one last time. She seemed to be seeing the years unfold in reverse there on that old weathered porch, and Jane could have sworn that for a moment Mrs. Hawthorne looked young again. She closed her eyes and smiled. Then she lowered herself into the seat and didn’t look again.
Back at the assisted living center, Mrs. Hawthorne refused to let Jane see her in. She said there was no point in both of them getting into trouble. “And besides,” she added, “where I’m going, I had better get used to going alone.”
So Jane pulled up to the edge of the portico and tried her best not to cry as they said their good-byes. “You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?” she asked.
Mrs. Hawthorne’s face crinkled into one big smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, dear. Here. Take this and write me down your address.”
Jane took the small, worn address book and pen that Mrs. Hawthorne produced from a pocket beneath her shawl and wrote her address and telephone number inside. After she had handed it back, there was a moment when Jane thought they might embrace in the car, but Mrs. Hawthorne reached for the handle and opened the door. Jane got out and crossed around to help her, but she was already out and leaning on her cane.
Oh, the hell with it, Jane thought.
Then she wrapped Mrs. Hawthorne up in her arms and hugged her. She let her head rest gently on the old woman’s shoulder and she was hugging not only her, but also her own mother, and Grace, and Melody. When she pulled away she had tears in her eyes. So did Mrs. Hawthorne. Jane wasn’t sure why or where she got the courage, but she leaned in and kissed the old woman’s cheek. Then she turned and crossed back to her open car door.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, wiping away a tear. Then she smiled and added, “And you tell that Caleb of yours where to find me if things don’t work out with you two.”
Jane laughed and got in the car.
As she pulled away, she saw in her mirror Mrs. Hawthorne standing at the edge of the portico, watching her go. She saw the attendant come out with a wheelchair, and she saw the old lady wave him away with her cane.
Then Jane looked ahead and saw her no more.
The sun was setting by the time Jane arrived at the island cemetery. She parked and got out, then breathed in the cool, moist air. She smelled cut grass, even though it was already fall.
She went first to Grace’s grave. There were fresh flowers there, and she wasn’t surprised, knowing how many friends she had. Jane looked down at the stone and at her friend’s name etched there above the two major dates in her life—the day it had begun and the day it had ended. She knew it was the days between them that counted, and she thought about Grace’s confession of regret.
Live the life I can’t, she had said. A life free from fear.
She had expected to feel sad coming here. But she didn’t. She felt as though her friend was in a peaceful place beyond both sadness and pain.
“I love you, Grace. I wouldn’t have made it through losing Melody without you. I know that now more than ever. And I’m doing my best to follow your advice. To live a life without fear. But I am scared, Grace. I’m scared and I wish you were here.”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. She felt the last of the setting sun’s rays on her neck, and a breeze swept across the cemetery and rustled her blouse. When she lifted her head again, the sky was painted in ribbons of pink.
She left Grace’s grave and went to see her daughter.
There was no trace left of the flowers her mother had brought, but the stone was clean and the grass was green and clipped short. She didn’t know what to say, so she sat down and leaned against the headstone and watched the light fade slowly from the sky. She put her hand to her belly, and she felt that there were three of them sitting there in the pink glow of that lingering sunset. Eventually, she reached into her pocket and took out the coin that had brought her and Caleb together, the coin her daughter had once held. She kissed it, then wedged it in the soil where the marble met the earth, pushing it deep to protect it from the mower. A tear rolled down her cheek, but for some reason she didn’t feel overly sad.
When twilight dropped over that island cemetery, hung already in the east with stars, Jane was still sitting there in the shadows with her head leaned against the cooling stone. And had anyone at all been nearby, they might have also heard her humming Melody’s favorite lullaby.
Chapter 20
Halfway across the hotel lobby Jane had to stop and check herself, wondering if she hadn’t had a drink or two on the plane, because she was sure seeing double—identical twins in identical outfits everywhere. She continued on to the check-in desk.
“Can I help you, miss?”
Finally, Jane thought, someplace where people didn’t call her ma’am all the time. Maybe she’d like L.A., after all.
“Yes. My name is Jane McKinney, and Caleb Cummings left a room key for me.”
The woman searched through an accordion folder. “Cummings for McKinney, you said. Yes. Here it is.” She handed Jane a key card, adding, “If you’re here for the Double Tro
uble Convention, the bus will arrive in fifteen minutes.”
Jane glanced behind her at the pairs of twins waiting in the lobby. Her hand moved instinctively to her belly. “Oh Lord, don’t let this be a sign,” she mumbled.
The housekeeping cart was in the hall, and it was clear that they had just been in the room because the bed was made and almost no sign of Caleb was visible when she entered. She closed the door and set her bag on the floor. Then she went to use the bathroom. It was strange looking at his toothbrush and his beard trimmer after all this time apart. She felt as though she were trespassing into a stranger’s personal space. She freshened up and went back into the room. She opened the closet and saw his clean clothes hung neatly on hangers and a pile of dirty clothes beneath them on the closet floor. She kicked off her shoes, stripped off her pants and her blouse, and picked up a worn T-shirt from the pile and put it on. Then she drew the curtains closed, switched off the light, and curled up on the bed in the dark room.
She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was—exhausted from the stress of attempting to care for her mother, exhausted from the emotional overload of returning home, exhausted from the battle raging inside her to tell or not to tell. She put her hands inside Caleb’s T-shirt and pushed the cotton up to her nose, and smelled his scent before she drifted off to sleep.
Jane thought she was dreaming when she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. Then his lips were on her neck. Then his mouth moved up to her ear. He whispered her name and he whispered that he was glad she had come. Then he whispered poetic things she’d never dreamed before that she’d hear. He told her that he had things to confess. That he needed her more than anything else in this world or the next. That she was the star of his every dream, the meaning behind every heartbeat in his chest, and that his love for her grew with each and every breath. He told her he had loved her since the day they had first met and that he would love her all the days he had left. She felt his strong arms around her and his warm breath on her neck, and she let his words of poetry seep into her heart and into her soul. When he had finished confessing his love, she rolled over and brought her lips to his and they kissed. It was pitch-black in the room, but when she ran her fingers over his face, she could see clearly in her mind each of his beautiful features. And then there was his taste—familiar and exciting. She felt his free hand roaming her body, gently dragging his fingers across her skin, and some internally generated electricity from the mysterious workings of her heart raised the hairs on her arms and caused her legs to part.
Soon their naked bodies were pressed together and she felt him slide inside her as if they had been made to fit together, and the only unnatural thing left between them was having ever been apart. For a few delicious minutes she forgot everything troubling her, everything weighing on her heart, and she let herself float there on that mattress, free as could be, feeling nothing but his desire deep inside her and his mouth on hers, both of them hungry with need.
When Caleb came it was with such force that he lifted his mouth away from hers and called her name. She gripped his forearms where they were planted on the mattress beside her, and she wrapped her legs around him and held him tight. And when she came, the mattress, and the hotel floor, and the floors below, and the very earth beneath them seemed to fall away as they spun a slow orbit around each other, their bodies entwined, revolving there in that dark room.
He finally fell to the bed beside her, and even in the dark, they were so connected that she could feel his smile. Jane scooted into the nook beneath his arm and rested her cheek on his naked chest. He reached his hand around and gently played with her hair.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I can tell,” she said, giggling. “I missed you too.”
“Sorry I’m so late getting back. We were filming a car commercial at the studio.”
“Well, look at you. So famous you’re in a car commercial. Did they let you keep one?”
“Keep one? No. It’s not the Oprah birthday show. We get paid scale, though. I’m not sure what that is, but everyone else was excited about it.”
“Well, I’m sure they’ll sell millions with you in the ad.”
“Yeah, right,” he replied. “Tell me what’s up with you. You sounded kind of down on the phone before you left Seattle.”
She wanted to tell him. She did. And she couldn’t imagine a better time. But then she thought it might be selfish, that it might distract him from the show when he was so close to winning. And she also knew that once she spoke it out loud, things would never be the same between them again.
Tomorrow, she decided. She’d tell him tomorrow.
“Oh, my mother just had me depressed, as usual. But I’m fine now. Hey, why is it so dark in here? I can’t even see your chest and I’m lying on it.”
“Electrical tape,” he said. “Want me to turn on a light?”
“No,” she answered, hugging him. “Don’t move. Let’s lie here for a while. I like listening to your heart.”
“Good,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “because it’s beating for you.”
The shrill ring of the hotel phone woke her. She felt Caleb roll over and she heard him lift the receiver, then put it back down. Jane closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. When she opened her eyes again, the bathroom door was ajar and a beam of yellow light was bisecting the room. She heard the shower running. She rose from the bed, went to the bathroom, and pushed the door open. He had his arm up against the shower wall, his head bent beneath the stream of water. She remembered her trip to Paris with Grace, and she couldn’t help but think that Caleb naked in the shower reminded her of a sculpture she might have seen there in the Louvre. She peeled his T-shirt off and went to join him.
It was her turn to hug him from behind, and when she did he turned his head to look at her and smiled, taking her in his arms, rotating her so the spray was on her back.
“Sorry to barge in,” she said. “The door was open.”
“Don’t be sorry. I left it open as an invitation.”
“Well, then, you should be sorry for waking me.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, kissing her neck.
“Okay, maybe not.”
He turned her around and pressed her naked body against the shower wall. Then his hands left her and she closed her eyes and waited with excited anticipation. When she felt his hands again, he was gently washing her back with a soapy loofah. He washed her shoulders and her arms. Then he knelt and washed her legs one at a time. When he had finished her legs, he turned her around and washed her front.
He hummed a beautiful tune as he worked, a melody she had never heard before, and he was so gentle with her, so absorbed in her body, that she felt truly worshipped. He finished and kissed her on the forehead. Then he moved her beneath the warm water to rinse off, and stepped from the shower and took a towel for himself off the rack. It was the simplest, quietest, humblest gesture of love she had ever experienced. Jane closed her eyes and tried to re-create the tune he had been humming, silently praying for the courage to say what she needed to say.
When she finished in the shower, she wrapped a towel around herself, took a deep breath, and went into the room. Caleb was just hanging up the hotel phone, fully dressed and ready to go. He stepped over to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.
“I’ve gotta run, baby.”
“So soon?” she asked. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, honey. We’re filming interviews this morning as filler for the live show this week. Then I’ve got a rehearsal and a run-through with the music director at the set. But let’s have dinner together tonight, okay? We’ll talk then.”
“Fine,” she said, rising onto her tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. “Go be with your adoring fans.” Then she fell back onto the bed and held the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning exhaustion. “I�
��ll just lie here in the room by myself and while away the day, wondering what to wear tonight, darling.”
Caleb leaned down over her and whispered in her ear. “You just keep that towel on, and maybe we’ll skip dinner and go right to dessert instead.”
Then he grabbed his jacket and stepped to the door. “Oh shit,” he said, turning back. “I forgot tonight is the charity auction dinner.”
“That’s okay,” Jane told him, trying not to sound too disappointed. “I’ll just see you after.”
“No”—he shook his head—“you’re coming with me. The dinner’s here in the hotel ballroom at eight. I’ll be back at least fifteen minutes before to get you.”
“Fifteen minutes. Will you have time to even get ready?”
“My stylist will dress me at the set.”
“Whoa there,” Jane said, shaking her head and smiling at him. “Look who’s a big shot with his own stylist. Now I’m really going to have to spend the day wondering what to wear.”
Caleb grinned and blew her a kiss.
As soon as the door was closed, she missed him. Their reunion last night seemed already like a dream, and this morning had gone by far too fast. She hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet and her lover was already gone. There was a knock on the door and her heart leaped. Maybe his shoot had been canceled, or maybe he’d just forgotten his key. She rose to open the door. When she saw the smiling face behind the room service cart, she immediately let go of the door to tighten her towel and the door slammed closed on its spring hinges. She went and quickly put on a robe, then returned to the door and opened it again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t expecting room service.”
“No worries at all. Shall I just set it up here, then?”
He stopped his cart near the small desk and draped it with a white cloth, arranging the covered plates. He set out a pot of coffee. Then he poured fresh-squeezed orange juice into a champagne flute and topped it off with ginger ale and a slice of orange. She smiled to think that Caleb had arranged a virgin mimosa just for her. Then the man produced from somewhere beneath the cart a single long-stemmed red rose and laid it out on the cloth next to her breakfast.
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