What Brings Tomorrow_Book Two

by RJ Heaton

  “Therapy,” I sigh. That simple word is more complicated than he knows. I’m not going there right now. I need to focus and not let my mind wander to thoughts of Ethan.

  “Now for other matters …”

  I rub my hands together like a goon getting ready for an evil plot. This is what I have been anticipating. The best part about meeting the attorney today.

  “Divorce papers.” Yep, those are the magic words. I begin floating on cloud nine. “I will need a detailed list of any and all assets; real properties, cars, furniture, stocks, bonds, anything of value and everything that’s not. I want to know about it all.” I nod my head like an eager child listening intently to his words. I make a mental checklist of the things off the top of my head.

  “Was there ever a prenuptial agreement made or signed?” I shake my head indicating no.

  “Okay, that’s good.” Jim jots something down on a piece of paper before continuing, Montana is an equitable distribution State. Which means everything is divided up in an equitable way or fair to both parties. So, let’s say you have two properties one will go to each of you, or if there are five vehicles we figure out what will go to whom—understand?”

  “Sounds fair enough.”

  “You have children right?”

  “Yes, three, but two of them are adults now.”

  “So there’s only one left at home? Do you know where or with whom the minor wants to live with?”

  I haven’t asked Mathew where he wants to live. If I had to bet on it, I’d say he would choose his father. This fact hurts me a lot, but I know that I am no replacement for his dad. He loves his dad and has always looked up to him. They both love baseball and that connection creates a strong bond between them. They have a close relationship, and I don’t think I could ever match it.

  “Truthfully, I’ve never asked Mathew what he wants to do. I just … well, I was trying to play it cool and not pry too much. That will be a sore subject and I feel like they all have already been through enough. Their mom was in a coma for two months, the guy they considered their uncle, died, Sean moved in another woman. That all has to be traumatizing.”

  “You’re a good mom Nicole.” I smile at Jim’s kind words.

  I cringe thinking about Sarah. “I am concerned about the live-in girl my husband moved in with him, though. She’s pretending to play Susie Homemaker and that she’s the “mom,” I do air quotes. “I’m not too pleased with her antics right now.”

  Jim lets out a booming laugh that startles me. After all, this is no laughing matter. I glare at him. “I was starting to wonder if you were human.”

  “Huh, what do you mean?” I ask feeling dumbfounded.

  “Well, through this whole thing since the very beginning, you’ve been so worried about everyone else and not once about yourself. You have been so kind and compassionate about the ones around you, I was starting to wonder if you came from the same planet as the rest of us.” I blush at his comment. I always have been a worry wart when it comes to my loved ones, and, of course, they come before me. I thought that’s how all moms and wives acted.

  Nine

  Making a list of assets is tedious. I’m just glad that I have detail knowledge of everything we own and all the monetary values of some of our stocks and retirement funds. Sean always hated working on our monthly budget. It was left up to me. I guess it wasn’t so bad, and after taking care of it for so long it was just part of my routine. I’m grateful that it was my job now. It makes this a lot easier.

  I jot down our major properties like the house and then our vehicles including our forty foot fifth wheel Sean insisted we buy even though he hates camping. It was me and the kids who got the most use of it. The memories warm my heart. Camping with the kids was always a great adventure—an adventure I’d repeat over and over again. Sean only came with us a couple of times.

  I continue down the list; our boat … this toy is probably my favorite. The entire family could go out for just a day and enjoy fishing, tubing and water fun. The laughter’s still ring in my ears. I wonder who will get the boat, or if we’ll have to sell it to separate our things in an equitable manner.

  I never thought that this is what I would end up doing; separating material things that have made up our life, our marriage. This is what it has all come down to … a few items that in the end mean nothing? It takes me a few hours to write a detailed list of all our things. Most of it, we accumulated during our marriage.

  Sean and I were so young when we decided that nothing in the world would keep us apart. We had to get married. My parents strongly advised us to wait, but I was eighteen and knew it all. I was in love and we would live happily ever after. When we hit our fifteen-year mark it solidified it to everyone that maybe we were right after all. This was a marriage meant to last—ha, ha. We fooled them, didn’t we? The jokes on me. It’s me that had my heart minced into a thousand pieces. I doubt Sean has even blinked twice about his decision. His pleas and daily phone calls for me to come back are just part of his game. He wants to drag me through the desert and hold a canteen filled with water just out of my hands reach. I can feel the dry sand coating my tongue and I suddenly feel parched.

  “Are you going to work on that all night?” Heather startles me.

  “Actually, I’m all done.” I look at the papers scattered all over the kitchen table.

  “Good, we were just starting a movie. Come join us.”

  “Popcorn?” I ask raising my eyebrows with a twitch.

  Heather grabs at her chest feigning disbelief. “Why do you think I’m in the kitchen?”

  I straighten out the papers I’ve put together in detailed format. Heather grabs a couple bags of microwaveable popcorn and pops it into the modern convenience. The smell of fresh kernels being popped in the microwave makes me mouth salivate. “You got the one with movie theatre butter flavor, right?”

  “Is there any other kind?” She asks and then we both start laughing. We are most definitely related.

  “What are we watching?”

  Heather turns around in her soft flannel pajamas with a serious, but thoughtful look. “Umm, do you remember that movie trailer for that suspense where the teacher is accused of murdering his wife, but no one believes he is innocent?”

  “Sounds familiar.” I think.

  “Joe’s getting it started. Head out and I’ll bring the popcorn.”

  I wheel out to the adjoining living room. Lexie is curled up on the right-hand side of the couch with her legs tucked in underneath her. She has made that corner of the brown sofa ‘her spot’. Heather usually sits on the opposite end which is close to where Joe perches in his wide leather recliner. I usually sit in the other recliner that sits off to the side on its own near a huge house plant. It is the easiest spot for me to transfer into from my chair, and far more comfortable than my metal chair. We all have our own special delegated spots. Since Lexie has somewhat moved in, we’ve all fallen into a relaxed daily routine.

  Joe has been on with the fire department for so long that it’s unusual if he gets called out in the middle of the night. The newbies and young guys usually get the crazy on call shifts. I give him a hard time that he’s getting too soft to do the big-boy fires, so they made him a pencil pusher. In truth, I know he could run circles around a lot of the young guys that have come in, but he’s done his time and hours. I know Heather likes him home in the evenings. It makes for nice family nights like this.

  “Oh look who decided to become part of the family.”

  “I heard there was popcorn.”

  “And the best damn company you can find on this continent,” Joe adds. I roll my eyes.

  “I suppose you’re right if you’re talking about my lovely daughter. I’d take her company any day.”

  “Aw, Mom,” she smiles.

  I wheel up to my special chair and use the strength of my one strong arm to push up onto my leg and plop onto the comfy recliner. When I get scooted in where I’m sure I won’t fall on my face, I
scoot my chair out of my way so I have a good sight-line to the TV.

  Heather walks out bringing bowls of popped, fluffy kernels covered with greasy butter and hands each of us our own bowl. I immediately dive my hand in grabbing a handful to shove in my mouth. MMM.

  Halfway through the movie, my phone rings from the other room. Lexie looks over at me and I shrug. “I’ll get it, Momma.”

  Ten

  “Is this Nikki? Nikki Cooper?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Shad Libman. I’m sorry for calling like this, but I was told to call you about Lance.” Hearing that name causes me to inhale a sharp deep breath. “I’m … well, how should I say this without sounding like a dirt bag? I was told that you were the last one with him. The night he died.” My silence has to be a deadpan giveaway that he speaks the truth. I mean really, who is this guy to call me up out of the blue and ask such a horrible question?

  “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

  “I knew that I was going to make this sound all weird and creepy. Lance was sort of like a hero to me. I was just hoping that we could meet up. Lance always spoke so highly of you, your husband and your kids.”

  “Soon to be my ex-husband,” I interject quickly.

  “Oh, sorry to hear.”

  “It’s okay.” I shrug like it’s not his fault, but I don’t know why because he can’t see me through the phone.

  “Hey listen, I’m sure all of this is coming off bizarre—me calling. It’s just that Lance, he was my brother in a way words can’t explain. I called him before …” he pauses and I pity him for the hurt I hear in his broken voice. “We planned to meet up when I got stateside. I just got back last week. I’m a little late—I guess.” He laughs a noncommittal guttural chortle.

  I had felt the exact same way when I woke two months later from my coma. It was me who had been the last to know about Lance and my emotions flew off the charts when I found out. They consumed me, but the worst of my feelings was the guilt. That one still lingers in the shadows. I’m reminded daily that he died and I’m the one left. He should have been the one who survived … not me. I sigh heavily. I hope this Shad doesn’t feel guilty for his friend—our friend being gone. I carry enough of that guilt for a whole entire fleet of troops.

  “He forgot a few things in my possession, and I think his family should have them.”

  “Did you contact his mom?”

  “I tried. His sister fell apart when I called. She told me they didn’t want to meet with me, and that it would be too hard right now. She’s the one who gave me your number.” He lets out a soft chuckle of confusion, “she also told me that you could explain everything.” Then I hear him sigh deeply into the phone, and I can imagine him shaking his head. “To tell you the truth she sounded bitter. Her exact comment was, ‘Ask Nikki Cooper about it’ and then she gave me your number and hung up.”

  There it is. Lance’s mom and sister are holding me accountable for the accident. Now that I think about it that does make sense. Lexie had told me that after the accident Lance’s mom, Barbara had come often to check on me at the hospital. When I finally awoke, I had called and spoke to her for a few minutes. All the other times I’ve called, I was unable to reach anyone. I had just figured they were busy, but it’s clear—they’ve been avoiding me. I let out an audible huff.

  Shad chuckles again on the other end of the phone line. “I figured there was a story behind this.” Clearly, to everyone else there’s a scandal behind Lance’s death, but to me, it’s straight up black and white. A bad thing happened to a good guy. “Meet me.” His deep baritone voice isn’t demanding—just a simple plea.

  “Okay,” I simply say. “Where do you want to meet me?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Do you know where the Attic is?” My mind does a quick mental calculation of the pub and eatery downtown.

  “Uh, yeah … downtown on main, right?”

  “That’s the place. Seven tomorrow night work for you?” It doesn’t take me as long to skim my social calendar. Of course, it’s wide open. No job, no real home, no life … yep, no pressing place for me to be. The only thing I need to worry about is the small matter of finding a ride. Heather and Joe should be home by that time, though.

  “That should work just fine.”

  “Great! I look forward to meeting you.” I’m just about to hang up when I hear his voice speak up again. “Wait, how will I know it’s you?”

  I’m glad he thought about that. I would’ve been sitting in a restaurant mindlessly looking for Lance’s friend blindly. Well, maybe giving the fact that he is military I might be able to pick out his haircut. “I’ll be in a wheelchair.” I blurt. I kind of doubt that he expected that little tidbit of information. He seems stumped. “It goes with the story,” I add.

  “This sounds interesting. I can’t wait to hear about it. I’ll see you at seven tomorrow night, Nikki.”

  ***

  “Are you serious? This guy could be a serial killer. You should at least take Joe.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I say, but I’m questioning my sanity right now. “We’ll be in a public place, and besides, this is a friend of Lance’s. I owe it to him to give Shad the details. I was the one that was with him the last night of his life.” The tears are still hard to fight back. It’s been over a month since I found out what happened to my dear friend. The pain has not washed away. No, it still burns like a heated metal plunging through my heart when I think about him. Moving on will take time, and maybe talking about it to his other loved ones will help me through the healing process. “It needs to be addressed. If the guy seems like a creeper, I will text you to get your butt there and save me.”

  “Fine, but I am not happy about this.” It’s clear exactly how she feels with her tense body stature and her eyebrows pulled close together disapprovingly.

  “You look just like Mom right now.” I laugh.

  “Oh shut it.” Heather relaxes her shoulders and pulls her lip up into a half grin. She is still uptight, but I can tell she’s trying to force her body to relax. “Someone has to get on you and keep you out of trouble.”

  “Will you ever stop nannering me? I mean really, I am almost forty.” I nearly gag on that last word. How did I become almost forty? How has time slipped by so fast that I am now a middle-aged woman? My thoughts instantly go to Ethan. He has tried calling a few times since I crawled back to my sister’s house. I can’t woman up and bring myself to speak to him yet. This guy shouldn’t have me hiding in my sister’s hovel, but that has been exactly what I’ve been doing.

  “Nah, once a big sister always a big sister. I got your back.” She winks at me and we both laugh. I know that she is telling the truth. My big sister Heather will undoubtedly give me her opinion until we are old ladies pushing each other around a nursing home.

  “I love you. I know I don’t tell you enough, but I really do.” I get weepy and tears threaten as I express feelings I rarely let out. “I’ve been being so selfish and feeling so stinking sorry for myself that I haven’t even told you thank you for helping me, and giving me a place to stay.” Heather stands and comes and gives me a tight hug.

  “I love you too, Nik. I am so sorry that all of this happened to you.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is going on in here?” Joe rounds the corner from refilling his popcorn bowl from the kitchen while Heather and I break down hugging and crying on each other.

  I lift my teary eyes and glare at him. I wipe a stray tear running down the side of my nose and sniffle. “Just because you have no heart doesn’t mean my sister has lost hers.” I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Hey, One-legged-Nikkers, I have something for you.” He sets his bowl down on an end table and then reaches into his pocket with both hands and then pulls them out with both middle fingers extended out towards me. “How about some shut the eff up. I got me a lot of heart.” Heather stands and slaps Joe on the upper arm, while I laugh.

  “Seriously, you two are worse than
the kids … and holy cow the nicknames.” Heather looks between us like we are two children getting scolded. “He started it…” I add. We all laugh and then Joe un-pauses the movie and we continue watching where we stopped during my phone call.

  Eleven

  A man with wild gray hair sits alone with a tall glass of the remnants of a golden honey liquid. He doesn’t pay me any attention as my eyes scan the dark cavern. There are a few patrons at the bar with drinks of different varieties and a few people sitting at tables with half-empty plates. For the most part, it appears to be quiet this Friday evening. I have only been in here a handful of times, but on each occasion the food was fabulous. I’m not sure why we didn’t come here more often. The tavern is dark, with dark wood tables, a dark wood bar, and the same matching dark wood stain on the stools. Sports memorabilia litter the walls and there are two televisions that hang behind the bar. It would either be an interior designer’s worst nightmare or dream come true. I rub the sweat that’s been building up on the outside of my glass with my thumb. Numbly, I bring the margarita to my lips. I don’t often drink, but it’s not like I’m opposed to it either. I just like to keep my wits about me. I am a complete lightweight. Tonight, I will be careful and pace myself, but I think the drink might just help me relax. I put my drink down and grab my cell phone and look at it for the hundredth time … 6:55. He should be here any minute.

  The door swings open violently and for a brief moment I can see the pouring rain. Spring storms rage in like a ferocious lion. My favorite is when the storm brings a show of lightning with it. I’m not sure about anywhere else, but here in Montana, the streaks will reach all the way across the sky. It’s magnificent. Just as the thought comes to mind, a brilliant flash brightens the darkened sky just as the door closes. I finally, notice the man that walked in. He shakes his head and droplets of water sprinkle to the floor. His head leans up and his eyes look over the room. From here it looks like he is tall, but being stuck in a wheelchair everything looks taller to me. No matter how tall he is, I’m not blind … he is clearly very handsome, even from here. His hair is short and styled spiky in the front. He takes off his light, leather dress jacket and swings it over his arm—his bulging thick arm. Holy sweet heavens, I hum to myself. The dark handsome stranger is wearing a cream long sleeved Henley that hugs him tightly. I don’t mean to stare, but he looks like he just walked straight from a model shoot. The guy is gorgeous. I look back at the door and wait for the modelesque girl to match him walk in.