Rig growled, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
Naomi looked up into Rig’s face. She wanted to press her cheek against the long curve of his jaw, now faintly stubbled. She wanted to say something that would stun him. That would let him know that she was still in control, something sexy that would prevent him from noticing that he undid her with every touch.
She opened her mouth to speak.
And instantly threw up, barely leaning over to make it into the trash can in time.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Children are often more adept than we expect them to be when it comes to learning the important things: walking, talking, knitting, and then reading. Best if done in this order.
—E.C.
Two nights later, at his brother’s home, Rig wondered for the fiftieth time how Naomi was doing. It was hard to keep his mind off her—she’d been so instantly sick yesterday afternoon, and so damn horrified. He’d offered to take her home, but she’d refused. He thought he’d seen the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she hadn’t given him a second chance to look as she’d run out of her office carrying her purse. She was gone in what felt like seconds, and she’d been out sick today. He and Anna had handled it in the office, but just barely, and Anna had said she’d been in her bathroom most of the night.
Frank was obviously waiting for an answer from him, and Rig tried to focus. “Dad,” said Rig, “Milo barely reliably ties his shoes. And you think he’s going to be able to play chess?”
Frank humphed as he thumped the pieces of the heavy old chess board that he’d dragged out of his bedroom into the backyard to the picnic table. “He’s already five. He has to learn sometime. I showed him the basics the other night and he seemed to get it. We’ll play after dinner.”
Milo dropped off the branch he hung from and raced over to his grandfather. “I can play! I can play!”
Rig laughed and looked down at him. “You can? Can you tell me the rules?”
Milo shrugged. “It’s just like checkers only the pieces jump crooked. Duh.” He zoomed away again, his arms up in the air. Screeching, he turned the corner to run to the front gate. He’d be back in a minute.
Rig took a deep breath and let it out. The sun was dropping in the west, and he could see, just over his brother’s fence, the fog bank approaching. It wasn’t here yet, but he could feel a hint of cool mist being pushed in his direction. In the yard, two robins hopped on the edge of the perpetually empty birdbath; Megan had loved birds, but Jake always forgot to fill the bath with water. Maybe a nice gift would be turning it into a fountain—Rig bet Jake would like that, and Milo would love being able to splash his hands in it.
He should check on Naomi. Did she need anything? Being sick sucked.
Jake came out from the kitchen carrying two boxes. “Pizza tonight. I’m too tired to grill.”
“Pizza’s always good,” said Rig as he looked at his brother. Two dark blue circles were pressed under his eyes, the kind that used to be there for months on end after Megan died.
“Milo!” Jake yelled. “Dinner!”
Another screech followed by maniacal laughter was all they heard.
“He wants to be the Joker this week,” Jake said. “It’s his new thing, but all he knows how to do is the laugh. It’s creeping me out.” As he handed Rig a beer, he smiled, but it didn’t seem real—it looked like one of those that he’d had for the first two years after Megan died, the smile that never reached his eyes.
Frank grabbed a piece of pizza and leaned back in his deck chair. The piece of ham he grabbed with his teeth fell onto his shirt. Shrugging, Frank kept eating.
“Dad, you’ve got—,” Jake started, waving his finger.
“Saving it for later,” said Frank. “Mind your own business. Now if you’ll excuse your old man, I have to listen to Rachel Maddow’s podcast. I missed it this morning.” With that, Frank stuck the cords of his iPod into his ears, and climbed into the hammock, leaning back in the thin evening sunlight. He closed his eyes, chewing all the while.
“So what’s up?” Rig asked.
“Nothin’,” said Jake. “How ’bout you?”
“Don’t give me that.” Rig took his first, perfect, ham and pineapple bite. It had been a good week for pizza eating, that was for sure. “Something’s wrong, and you’ll have to tell me or I’ll give Milo two of the candy bars I have in my car for just these kinds of emergencies.”
He didn’t see or hear Milo approaching but he felt the tug at his elbow.
“Candy bar, please.” He tilted his head back and to the side, grinning a patently fake grin.
“Is that the Joker look? Because it’s freaky,” said Rig. “Not now, buddy. Get some pizza.”
“Candy bar, please.” He rocked his head back and forth, the same enormous smile plastered on his face.
Jake snapped, “Knock it off. Eat pizza or go to your room.”
Milo jumped, his smile falling. His shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he whispered. “Candy later?” This was said more hopefully, and Rig could see him inhaling slowly, just in case a fit was required.
Rig nodded hurriedly. “One piece of pizza equals a candy bar if your dad says it’s okay.”
Jake raised one shoulder and dropped it. “Fine. Whatever.”
After Milo had whooped and run to sit under the oak tree with his slice, Jake finally sighed and said, “Don Barger’s wife died last night.”
“Shit, Jake. Was he on duty?”
Jake nodded. “He’d grabbed Milton’s shift—he’s been looking for overtime lately. Medical bills. The hospice nurse was with her.”
“Shit,” was all Rig could say.
“They didn’t call 911, obviously, because it was hospice, but they called Don on his cell. We took the rig out of service and spent the morning there with him. Bunch of us stayed over after the shift. Left there about five, just as her mom got there.” Jake’s voice cracked. “They have two kids. Ages seven and nine. Girls. And oh, God,” he leaned forward, pushing the pizza box away, putting his elbows on the table and burying his eyes in his palms. “The girls are old enough to know what happened. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cry that hard in my life, and their dad could only hold one at a time.”
A tremor rocked Jake’s body. “I held Lacy, the seven-year-old. For an hour, I held her and told her it would be okay. But it won’t be, Rig. It’s never, ever going to be okay again. And she has to learn that the hardest way possible.”
Rig slid forward on his chair, holding his pizza in one hand, the other outstretched. Fuck. Of all the calls for his brother to go on . . . “Jake—”
His brother sat up and rubbed his eyes, hard. They shone brightly, but the wetness was gone. “All I could be was as tough as I could be. I told him the truth, though. He wanted to hear it. I told him it was going to be awful. He just looked relieved someone was telling him something he could believe. I think everyone had been telling him it was going to be fine, that she would miraculously recover or something. Damn, Rig. His eyes . . . were the worst I’ve ever seen. I wonder if I looked like that?”
It sounded rhetorical, so Rig didn’t answer, just took another swallow of his beer. Yeah, Jake had looked exactly like that when Megan died. It had been almost unbearable for Rig to look at him. He glanced at Frank to see if his father had heard any of this, but he still had his earbuds in and his eyes were closed.
“I’m sorry,” Rig finally said. “But I’m glad you were there for him. Not many other people could go through that with him, not like you could.”
Jake nodded. “I guess I’ve been pretty fucked up for the last few years, huh?”
Rig almost laughed. It was an understatement. But who reacted well to the loss of a love? No one, that’s who. “You’ve been doing just fine.”
From under the tree, Milo made a whoop-whoop noise, like a fire engine clearing its throat. Jake looked startled and turned in his chair, ready to run toward his son. Then Milo kept eating. Jake’s shoulders relaxe
d.
“He’s fine,” said Rig.
Jake picked up his beer bottle and drank. “Yeah, but for how long is he going to be fine?”
It must be hell to feel that scared, all the time. But that’s what love did to people.
He wondered if Naomi was okay. If he should check on her.
Jake cleared his throat. “Changing the subject. You got your eye on your office partner?”
Rig took a bite of pizza to put off answering and ended up biting the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood. “Shit.”
“What’s your problem?”
He used his tongue to prod the wound. He’d live. “Bit my cheek. And yeah. I guess I do.”
“Have you slept with her?”
“Easy, Trigger.” How much should he admit to the man who hadn’t gotten any in three years?
“Because I bet Dad five bucks you’d already slept with her. Am I right?”
“You had a bet on me?”
“Hell, player, if you’ve got it, use it. Dad actually agreed, but he was mad at me for using the last of the toilet paper without changing the roll, so he bet against me.”
“I’m not answering the question.” His brother didn’t need to know the details.
“Sweet. That’s a yes. Was it fun?”
Rig leaned back so that he rocked on the back two legs of his patio chair. He couldn’t help admitting, “Yeah.”
His brother frowned. “If that back leg slips, you’ll crack your head wide open.”
Thunking back to the ground, Rig sighed. “I’m fine. I’m not going to hurt myself.”
Jake looked like he was going to say something else, then he shook his head and finished his beer.
“What?” asked Rig.
“Nothing.”
“I swear to God, Jake, leaning back in my chair is not the same as jumping out of an airplane with no parachute. I’m fine.”
“It’s not that,” Jake said.
“Then what?”
“You think she could be your Megan?”
Rig sucked in his breath. “What?”
“I saw the way you looked at her in your office. Naomi’s not just a good time, am I right?”
“You and Dad have another bet?”
“No.” Jake’s voice was softer. “I was just wondering. If she could be that one for you.”
“No way, dude. Megan was good at everything. Naomi is . . . She can barely speak to people unless she’s in the office. She hides, and I don’t know why. Her house is cluttered . . .” Rig’s voice trailed off. He could list the reasons he couldn’t be with Naomi, but they didn’t seem to matter when he said them out loud. Each bullet point, actually, was tugging a smile from him. Sometimes she wasn’t able to string two sentences together, and he’d seen magazines on her floor that were four years old.
But she was so warm. So lovely. She just didn’t know it.
Nah.
Naomi wasn’t his Megan.
That was the party line, anyway. The one he was working really fucking hard to remember, the one he forgot whenever Naomi was near.
“Nope,” he continued lamely. “She’s just going to be a friend. Coworker. Hell, she’s my boss, if it comes to that, until Pederson’s out and I buy in.” He needed to change the subject, fast. “What about you and Anna? How was your burger run the other day? I didn’t have a chance to grill her at work today. Get it? Grill? Burger?” He grinned toothily at his brother.
Jake didn’t smile. “You want to know if she’s my next Megan?”
“No!” Rig hadn’t even considered that she might be. “She’s pregnant. Not sure if you noticed that.”
“Only when her stomach got to the Smokehouse five minutes before the rest of her did. But you know what? It was nice being around her. Made me remember what Megan was like when she was carrying Milo. Remember how she loved those butterscotch shakes? She used to have two or three a day of those from the Smokehouse. Anna had one, and while Milo and I ate our burgers, she went and got another one. Eating for two, I guess.” Jake smiled.
“Uh-uh. No way. You’re not dating a woman about to give birth.”
“Who said anything about dating? I’m not dating.”
But Jake’s voice wasn’t convincing.
Frank chose that moment to pull out his earbuds and join the conversation. “What about that girl Anna you took to get burgers? A girl and a burger sounds like a date.”
Jake said, “It was just food, Dad.”
“You couldn’t even help me teach Milo chess, you were so amped up.”
Rig watched, fascinated, as his brother turned red.
“He’s too young for chess,” said Jake. “Gonna give him migraines or something. Stress.”
“It’s all right for you to date, son.” Frank rubbed the gray stubble on his chin and then passed his hand over his eyes. “Just because I don’t doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“You loved Mom,” said Jake.
“You said she was the only one you could ever love,” said Rig. “You couldn’t get out of bed for almost six months.”
“Your mother was a saint,” Frank snapped. “But that’s not the point. The point is, life goes on. We’d all do well to remember that.”
Rig looked at Milo, who was now lying under the tree, looking up into the branches. “So are you telling us you’re going to start dating? Should I make a profile for you on Match.com?”
Frank shot him a sideways look but didn’t answer him. “Jake, someday you’ll find someone you can love again.”
Jake shook his head. “There won’t ever be anyone like Megan.”
“And I’ll never find another woman like your mother.” Frank scowled.
There was a silent moment when Rig could feel tears in the back of his throat, threatening to break through. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going to end up like you two.”
Dammit, he could tell by the look that passed between them that they didn’t believe him.
He wasn’t sure he believed himself.
Time to change the subject. “So,” said Rig. “Die Hard tonight?”
“Yeah.” Jake stood, collecting the paper plates they’d eaten off of. “That’ll do.”
Frank stood slowly, holding on to the ropes of the hammock for support. “I like that Bruce Willis kid. He’s gonna be someone, I think.”
Rig rolled his eyes and then smiled at his father. “Yep. Bet you’re right.”
Milo, who’d been in the house, slid open the back door and yelled, “Hey! I got a lady here!”
Laughing, Rig turned. “You what?”
But Milo really did have a woman by the hand. Anna followed him out, her face a mask of concern.
Jake was the first to find his voice. “Anna?”
One word flashed through Rig’s mind: Naomi.
Anna’s eyes found his. “My sister said if you weren’t home you might be here. She gave me directions.” She glanced at Jake. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Jake said, “Of course not.”
What if she was hurt? A traffic accident? A fall? Did they have much violence here? A mugging? He was finally able to croak, “What? What happened?”
Anna said, “She’s really sick. Like, really scary sick. She said food poisoning, but when I came home tonight, she’d passed out, and it took me the longest time to get her to wake up. She wouldn’t let me call 911, just said that you could get what she needed.”
Shit. Food poisoning didn’t normally make people pass out. “How was she when you left?”
“Locked in the bathroom. Can you go?” Here she looked at Rig, “Can you check on her?”
Rig was moving before he could form conscious thought. “Are you coming with me?”
“Stay here,” said Jake.
Rig and Anna both stared at him.
He went on, “What if she has something that’s contagious? Think about the baby. Just stay until Rig diagnoses her.”
“Jake,” said Rig. “If she has something contagio
us, then Anna’s bringing it here. Aren’t you freaked out about that?”
Jake shrugged. “Milo’s tough.”
It was surprising enough to make him pause, even while his brain screamed Get to Naomi!
Frank wandered past, seemingly unsurprised to see Anna. “Old Fashioned, my dear?” Then he looked at her belly. “Ah. I’ll go light on the bourbon.”
Jake said, “And Dad’s too pickled to catch anything. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her until you get back.” He turned to Anna. “Do you like Bruce Willis?”
Anna rubbed the top of her stomach. “Die Hard is only, like, one of the best movies ever.”
“Can I have your house keys?” Rig held out his hand toward Anna. “Just in case.”
Something like fear, a feeling he hadn’t had since swinging over the edge of a derrick to get to a trapped patient, rippled down his spine.
She had to be okay.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Sometimes, the knitting gets the better of us. It’s okay to ask for help. You’ll be needed at some point, too.
—E.C.
Naomi opened her eyes to the sound of someone calling her name. Cold, she was so cold. Her teeth chattered so hard her vision shook. And everything hurt, every cell of her body screamed for relief.
“Naomi!” The man’s voice was sharp. Loud, in the small bathroom, echoing off the tile floor.
The pain was the worst. As every cramping spell waxed, she could barely breathe, and she choked around the anguish until the cramps waned again.
“Naomi, honey.”
Why was there a man in her bathroom? More specifically, Naomi wondered as she started putting things together, why was Rig in her bathroom? Oh, no. No one should be in here. A vast, horrified feeling of embarrassment swept over her, and tears leaped to her eyes.
“No, no, no, no. Out, please out . . .”
“Naomi, sugar, tell me what happened.”
She barely heard the endearment, she was so wrapped up in the awful thought that he was in her bathroom, and she knew it must not smell as fresh as a bathroom could. She knew she herself must not smell very good.
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