Just a Breath Away

by Carlene Thompson

  She and Helen exchanged a look. Helen knows I’m lying, Kelsey thought. She always knew when Lorelei and I weren’t telling the truth. But Helen wouldn’t press for an answer. Among her many admirable character traits was discretion.

  Gatsby began purring and rubbing his chin against Pieter’s jaw. Pieter put his finger under the cat’s jaw, raised its head, and looked into its eyes. ‘You’re here with your sweet mistress but unfortunately not all of your family. Not all of our beautiful lost loves are with us tonight and that makes us sad, doesn’t it, boy? I can see the sadness deep in your eyes.’

  ‘Come and sit down, Pieter.’ Truman was trying to sound normal, but Kelsey heard the wariness in her father’s voice. Pieter hadn’t been well for several months and at times the people around him seemed to be fading away. Now he stared fixedly into Gatsby’s green eyes, as if by searching their depths he could find his wife, his daughter, and now his youngest granddaughter.

  Gatsby remained admirably still as Pieter held him high and gazed into his eyes, but finally the cat’s hind legs began to twitch. ‘He’s gotten heavy, Grandfather,’ Kelsey said, reaching for the cat. ‘His vet has put him on a diet.’

  ‘Oh, phooey on vets.’ Pieter dismissed them all with a toss of his head. ‘I’ve never credited one of them with any sense at all. That’s why I don’t waste my time with them.’

  Kelsey raised her arms and closed her hands around Gatsby’s body. ‘Well, cats and dogs have to get shots once a year to guard against rabies and a lot of other illnesses. He has an appointment week after next to get his shots, and he hasn’t lost his four pounds as ordered.’

  ‘And where would he get rabies? He doesn’t stalk through the wilderness. They always predict the worst, these vets.’

  Kelsey was beginning to think Pieter wasn’t going to put Gatsby down when suddenly his hands fell to his sides. If she hadn’t been clasping the cat tightly, he would have dropped to the floor. Pieter looked at her warmly. ‘He’s your cat, dear heart. You must do what you think is best for him.’

  Kelsey smiled at her grandfather and stroked Gatsby a few times before turning him loose. He headed straight for the kitchen. Looking for privacy and food, Kelsey thought. Meanwhile, Pieter seemed to slowly focus on all of them again.

  ‘You look tired, Pieter. Bad flight?’ Truman asked.

  ‘They’re all bad. I hate flying. And I am tired.’ Pieter always complained, although he stubbornly refused to fly first class where the accommodation was more pleasant. He sat down on the couch with a groan. ‘The flight was delayed by an hour. Then I was seated next to a woman who sounded like she was coughing up her lungs, and the child across the aisle stared at me the entire flight. I don’t think he ever blinked. Not once. He didn’t seem human,’ Pieter said querulously and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost nine-thirty. I feel like I’ve been on that plane all day.’ He gave Helen a forced smile. ‘Hello, Helen, dear. I didn’t even greet you.’

  ‘Hello, Mr Vaden. I’m glad you’re here in spite of the alien child.’

  Pieter burst out with a ragged laugh: ‘I’ll tell you what would do me a world of good. I smell the delicious coffee only you can make. Could you spare me a cup with a healthy splash of bourbon?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Vaden.’ Helen smiled.

  As she left the room, Pieter said, ‘She’s known me for over twenty years and she still calls me Mr Vaden, although I’ve said over and over “It’s Pieter.”’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe I remind her of her grandfather. I feel old enough to be her great-great-grandfather.’

  ‘Well, you don’t look it.’ Kelsey had dropped the necklace into her pocket. She sat down beside Pieter on the couch and hugged him again, hearing his rapid, shallow breath. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be. I’m used to travel.’

  ‘I wish you would have let us pick you up at the airport,’ Truman said.

  ‘When my car was in the airport parking lot? That would have been foolish.’ Pieter suddenly seemed to see Eve lingering near the doorway. ‘Hello, Eve. I’m sorry I overlooked you. I must be more tired than I think.’ He cocked his large head with its thick silver hair. ‘You look quite lovely, dear.’

  Kelsey smiled. Although Pieter was clearly devastated by the murder of his granddaughter, he still had something positive to say. ‘Looking at the bright side is part of my husband’s charm,’ Kelsey’s grandmother Ingrid had told her four years ago when she was frail and sick. ‘It’s one of the many things that made me fall in love with him.’ She’d clasped Kelsey’s hand. ‘I hope you and Lorelei find men like him. I know you will.’

  ‘Just me? Not Lorelei?’

  ‘I don’t know, darling. Sometimes I feel that your sister’s life will be very different from yours.’

  ‘Different how?’

  Her grandmother’s delicate body had tensed, then slowly relaxed. ‘Oh, don’t pay attention to me. I’m so often dreary these days.’ She’d smiled. ‘But I have Pieter. He makes me feel safe when I get lost in the dark.’

  But he hadn’t been able to save her from the dark three years ago, when she died of the cancer that had ravaged her. He hadn’t been able to save his daughter from the aneurysm that killed her within minutes, less than two years ago. And he hadn’t been able to save Lorelei. Would he be strong enough to save himself after this latest devastating loss? Would he ever again be able to make anyone feel safe when they were lost in the dark?

  Kelsey didn’t think so.

  The morning of Lorelei’s funeral the sun hung like a giant lemon ball in a cornflower blue sky. Any other time, Kelsey would have thought the day was unusually beautiful. Today, all she could think about was the helicopter flying in endless circles above the gravesite, its monotonous hum making her feel like screaming. Inside the copter’s glass globe, photographers pointed their cameras downward, hoping to get ‘money shots’ for the tabloids. Kelsey held her father’s right hand tightly, trying not to think about how only a year and a half had passed since she’d clasped that hand while Lorelei clutched his left and wept during their mother’s funeral. Two days ago, Kelsey and her father had picked out a casket and arranged for a small, private ceremony in the funeral home chapel. When they’d gone to the cemetery after choosing the rose-granite marker that would be set at the foot of Lorelei’s grave, beside her mother’s, Truman had finally broken down and cried. Kelsey had held him while she looked at the large monument with the name MARCH carved beneath a beautifully sculpted bough of roses. She’d concentrated on the roses until her father stopped shuddering, although tears still rolled down his face. Five minutes later, they’d slowly walked to the car and driven home without a single word.

  Now the young minister was delivering an earnest graveside speech about a woman he’d barely known. Kelsey shut out his words, concentrating on people who’d come to the cemetery after a short memorial service at the funeral home.

  To her left, Pieter stood tall and motionless, his face like stone. He hadn’t been to his own house since he returned from California. Last night, he’d asked Truman to invite Stuart to spend the night at the March home before the funeral. ‘The damned press has converged. They’re nearly blocking the front drive,’ Pieter had fumed to his son-in-law. ‘It’ll be worse in the morning when we go to the chapel and on to the cemetery. Stuart and Eve are both going to the funeral. If Stuart comes this evening, he’ll miss tangling with all those loathsome photographers in the morning. He and Eve can ride to the cemetery with us in a limo.’

  Kelsey had lingered, listening, when shortly after Pieter had gone upstairs Truman said to Stuart, ‘Pieter’s not well physically, and he’s shattered emotionally.’

  ‘I know,’ Stuart had said quietly.

  ‘He’s spending the night here and he wants the people he cares about around him. I know staying with us the night after Lori’s wake and being with us all morning before the funeral is an imposition, Stuart, but—’

  ‘It’s not an imposition. Pieter has b
een very good to me for years and I’d be happy to stay if wants me,’ Stuart had said. Kelsey thought Stuart would probably have been more comfortable in his own apartment, but she’d known he would do as Pieter wished. Also, she was glad he’d be in the same house with Eve during the hectic, mournful hours surrounding the funeral.

  But the hours before the funeral had been even more hectic than Kelsey could have imagined. The day after he’d returned to Kentucky, Pieter had risen in high spirits, come into the sun room where they were all gathered, and hugged Eve. ‘Lorelei, you look so beautiful this morning!’

  Everyone went still. Helen dropped a piece of silverware in the kitchen.

  ‘It’s Eve, Grandfather,’ Kelsey had said softly.

  He’d frowned at her. ‘Eh? What about Eve?’

  ‘You have your arm around Eve, Grandfather.’

  Pieter had looked closely at Eve as if he wasn’t certain Kelsey was telling the truth. Then he’d shaken his head and smiled at Eve. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I’m not my best before my morning coffee.’

  Eve had returned his smile. ‘It’s all right. There’s been so much fuss we’re all mixed up.’

  ‘I got a very good night’s sleep,’ Pieter announced. ‘The plane ride from California nearly “wiped me out” as the young people say, or is that out of style now?’ He’d glanced around. ‘Where’s Lorelei? Sleeping late on this beautiful morning?’

  Kelsey and Eve had smiled weakly as Truman motioned for them to leave the room. Kelsey knew her father wanted to remind Pieter that Lorelei was dead. Ten minutes later, Pieter walked through the living room looking weary and defeated. He went outside without speaking and they saw him plodding to the barn. He often visited the horses, feeding them carrots and reminding them of times they’d spent with members of the family. She wondered if he were telling stories now, or crying with only the beloved horses to hear. As much as she cared about the horses, Kelsey hadn’t been able to bear seeing Guinevere, the adored horse Lori had ridden just last week.

  After he left, Helen asked Truman and Kelsey if she could speak to them in her suite at the back of the house. ‘Mr Vaden said he’d slept well last night but that’s not true,’ she said reluctantly. ‘The night before last I was closing the drapes in my bedroom and I saw him wandering behind the house in his robe and a pair of rubber boots. I opened the window and called down to him. He came in almost immediately and went upstairs to his room. And last night I recognized Mr Vaden’s voice outside. He was asking, “Ingrid, do you know what they’re saying happened to Lorelei? I don’t believe it. But they wouldn’t say such a thing to hurt me. I must have dreamed it. Did I have a nightmare, Ingrid?”’

  Helen twisted her hands. ‘I went outside. Mr Vaden had passed the house and was heading toward the barn. I called “Mr Vaden” twice. He didn’t seem to hear me. Then I called ‘Pieter!’ He turned around and frowned and squinted and then …’ Her voice broke as she fought tears. ‘He had on those same rubber boots – they’re too big for him and I don’t know where he found them. Anyway, he suddenly came to me in a stumbling run. He kept saying, “Ingrid! Ingrid!” When he reached me, he hugged me tightly and said, “Oh, darling, I was afraid you were dead.” He pulled back and looked at me, beaming. He said, “Let’s go ride the horses in the moonlight like we did when we were young. Oh, Ingrid, I don’t know where you’ve been but I’ve missed you so much. Please don’t ever leave me alone again.”’

  By then, tears were rolling slowly down Helen’s face. ‘I convinced him that we needed to drink some hot chocolate before we went riding. He came in and I fixed hot chocolate for both of us, only I put bourbon in his. I thought it would calm him and make him sleepy. While we sat at the table together drinking our chocolate, he still talked to me as if I was his wife. Suddenly he said, “The chocolate was underbar.” I know that means wonderful. He stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and said something that sounded like “Jag lskar dig.”’

  Kelsey said, ‘That’s “I love you.”’

  Helen nodded. ‘He left the kitchen. I followed him. He went to his room but didn’t close his door like he usually does. He got into bed and murmured something else to Ingrid that I couldn’t quite hear. I stayed outside his room until he fell asleep.’ Helen looked at them in misery. ‘I feel like I’m betraying him telling you all this and also making things worse for you at this terrible time, but I thought you should know.’

  The morning of the funeral, Pieter seemed even more confused as he sat in the sun room, dressed in a plaid robe and one house slipper. Suddenly he stood and began a spectacular stream of cursing when he realized he was missing a shoe. ‘I’ll find it!’ Eve started to dash from the room when Pieter boomed, ‘Never mind, Eve.’ He rubbed his hand across his forehead. ‘Oh himmel! I’m not behaving well. Look at me – I’m wearing my pajamas and robe in front of guests! And my language! Oh, well, I knew I wouldn’t be much help to Truman and Kelsey. That’s why I’m so glad you’re here, Eve.’

  She smiled and bobbed her head slightly.

  Then Pieter looked at Stuart and frowned as if thinking. ‘I’m sure I know you.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Truman said. ‘He’s Stuart Girard.’

  Pieter shook his head. ‘His name isn’t Stuart.’

  ‘Maybe you’re thinking of my grandfather, Charles,’ Stuart said. ‘People tell me I look like him.’

  ‘I don’t know your grandfather!’ Pieter snapped indignantly before his eyes narrowed. ‘Blakemore! That’s your name. Mafia business. We exposed you. Truman and his father and I got you thrown in prison! What are you doing here?’

  Kelsey saw the distress in her father’s eyes. She knew that Stuart Girard’s father had been involved in Teddy Blakemore’s criminal activities and had barely escaped imprisonment himself. Still, Truman managed to say patiently, ‘Pieter, Teddy Blakemore is in prison. This is Stuart Girard. You know him and you know he had nothing whatsoever to do with the Blakemore business. He was barely out of his teens when that happened.’

  ‘I know what I know!’ Pieter glared at Stuart. ‘You’re Blakemore!’

  Stuart had gone rigid, his smile tight. Kelsey could tell he was deeply embarrassed. His voice sounded so taut it could snap. ‘I’m afraid you have me mixed up with someone else, sir.’

  ‘No, I don’t! There’s nothing wrong with my memory!’

  Helen swooped in, set a mug of steaming coffee on the table in front of Pieter and handed him a plate of pastries. ‘Look what I made just for you! They’re so warm and fresh. Please eat one right now!’

  ‘Pecan-pie bars!’ Pieter beamed, Teddy Blakemore and Stuart Girard suddenly forgotten. He looked at Helen with love. ‘You spoil me, Ingrid, even though I don’t deserve it.’

  Pieter’s suspicion of Stuart seemed to vanish as he ate. And now, at the cemetery, Kelsey squeezed her grandfather’s hand, wondering how much longer he’d be by her side in times of trouble. She could hear his wheezing, although she knew he was making an effort to suppress it. He looked down at her, his gaze sharp and clear with memory. At least he wasn’t confused now, she thought. He didn’t think she was his daughter Sofie or his wife, Ingrid, or his granddaughter Lorelei. He knew she was his first grandchild. They’d always winked at each other, saying it was their secret sign. He never winked at Lorelei – they had a different sign. Now Pieter winked at her in reassurance, silently telling her that she would always be his darling Kelsey.

  Across from her stood Stuart, his short dark brown hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. He was going gray at the temples, Kelsey thought in surprise. He was only thirty-five. She’d looked at him as a partner in her business, not as a man, and she hadn’t noticed the gray hair or the new lines around his eyes and the deepening ones across his forehead. His elegant features were sharper, too. He’d lost weight in the last six months. He and Kelsey had labored long hours establishing MG Interiors and the work was taking its toll on Stuart’s handsome face. Eve gazed up at him and her hand crept into his.

&
nbsp; Kelsey looked past them to see that no one was smiling in the Fairbourne camp. Brad looked detached and impatient. The fingers of his right hand fidgeted and Kelsey knew he needed a cigarette. Two years ago, he’d smoked occasionally. At the time of their breakup, he was getting through a pack a day. He’d also been drinking more and smoking marijuana. Only a week before she’d ended their relationship, Brad had blamed his dependencies on his increasingly demanding work schedule at the law firm.

  His mother stood close to him. Against a sea of black and navy blue, Olivia’s pearl gray silk sheath dress and jacket provided a beautifully chic contrast. Clearly she was trying to look solemn, but instead her lovely face was sullen. She didn’t make eye contact with either Kelsey or Truman. Kelsey knew Olivia considered Truman leaving her out of Lorelei’s funeral arrangements an insult. Yesterday, when Truman rejected her latest suggestion, Olivia had glared at Kelsey then left the house without a word, nearly slamming the front door behind her. ‘She thinks you’re taking over,’ Eve told Kelsey.

  ‘Taking over?’ Kelsey had exclaimed. ‘It’s my family!’

  ‘Are you sure Olivia knows that?’

  Later, Kelsey thought about what Eve had said. On the last night of her life, Lori had been furious with Olivia. She’d said Olivia had always been attracted to him, even before her husband Milton died, and now that their mother was dead she was taking advantage of every chance to improve her position. But that will never happen while I’m alive, Lorelei had vowed. And now Lori was dead. Out of the way. Her voice silenced forever. Is that what her murder meant to Olivia? A chance to weave herself more tightly into the fabric of the March family and of becoming Truman March’s wife? Kelsey glanced at Olivia, who stood rigidly still, her dark green gaze aimed emotionlessly at Lori’s mahogany casket with its blanket of white and pink roses. Suddenly she raised her eyes and fixed them so sharply on Kelsey that a tremor shot through her.

  Her father’s grip tightened on her hand and he looked down at her. No doubt he’d felt her twitch. Kelsey gave him a shaky smile and tried to listen to the minister. His voice was rich, smooth, and somehow calming even though it was little more than background noise to her as her gaze wandered.