Love Never Dies

by Loren Lockner

  Julia moved to the screened patio door and Mira dashed into the room, circling the couch twice before taking two strong sniffs of Simon. She leaped upon the cushions beside him and placed her silver head into his lap.

  “Wow,” he laughed. “She’s friendly alright, and has certainly grown since that photo. Are you able to keep up with the food bills?” he joked.

  “Luckily she’s nearly full grown. I’m awfully glad she didn’t get bigger since this place is fairly small for a dog. I have to be certain I walk her every morning and night.” She fingered one of the prints. These photographs are truly lovely. I remember when Seth snapped this one at the ice rink, but I have never seen the other. Who took that?”

  “I think it was your brother Paul. He probably gave it to Seth. I had all of them blown up as a gift from me to you. It’s all I really have of him after he moved down here. I hope you don’t mind, but I made some doubles. I was supposed to give him the negatives back.” Simon reached into his bag and handed her the photo envelope.

  “Thank you very much,” said Julia, Seth’s soul expanding in her heart. She watched Simon sip his iced tea.

  “This is quite good. You’ve done a very nice job with your place and I just love the southwestern photos and all the houseplants. I wanted to compliment you the other night but everything seemed too awkward at the time.”

  “I understand perfectly. So how’s it working out with you at Bastam, Hughes, and Glickstern?”

  “I’m only going to be there a couple more days. Lenny Glickstern wanted me to help out with some sort of quick market project Seth was working on. I know my brother always enjoyed Mediterranean architecture so I was able to give them a few pointers though it’s extremely uncomfortable working there. Everyone stares at me and whispers behind their hands so I told Lenny I would help out until the end of next week and then take off.”

  “And where are you planning to go?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s actually a firm in Sacramento I’m looking into. Like my brother, I’m getting a little weary of the weather on the east coast and my girlfriend… let’s just say I’m a bit of a free bird so to speak.” The wrinkles at the sides of his eyes crinkled in laughter as he mildly mocked himself.

  “I didn’t really allow you to explain why you and your brother were not on good terms. Would you care to tell me now?”

  “Alright,” said Simon evenly. “My brother was dating a girl named Marcie and they were actually quite serious about one another. A graphic artist, she worked near the architectural firm where Seth was employed. I came over to see him for lunch one day and she was there, sharing a sandwich with him. I don’t remember exactly what happened really.”

  Julia understood he was uncomfortable, but wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “And…?”

  “I guess I’ve always been kind of a flirt and my brother was always so much more serious than I. Anyway, I begin telling jokes and being my usual devil-may-care self and Marcie gave me a call that evening. Looking back, I should never have responded to that call or met her for lunch the next day. One thing led to another and she ended up dumping him in a kind of brutal way, explaining I was much more carefree and light-hearted than he and she preferred me over him.

  Seth was enraged. He accused me of pulling this trick one time to many, and equated it to how I had stolen his toys during our childhood. He said he didn’t want anything to do with me from that moment onward.”

  “It must have been a horrible scene.”

  “It was. I remember coming to my senses and protesting we were the only family left except for Lucas. How could he just throw in the towel on me? That’s when Seth said he needed six months before he’d even think of contacting me again. If I kept the same hotmail account he’d e-mail me if and when he damn well pleased. I didn’t hear from him for a full eight months and was nearly out of my mind with worry. I knew he’d relocated to the west coast and was making a good living, but nothing else. Finally, he started writing me again. I take it he’d gotten over Marcie since he’d met you. Seth seemed so happy and everything he said about you was complimentary. He spoke of your sense of humor, your generosity, and how beautiful you were.”

  Julia blushed and Simon grinned. “I mentioned I wanted to come out and meet you and received a staunch no as an answer. ‘You stay where you are’ he said, ‘and I’ll stay where I am. After everything is settled you can come out and visit us but not before.’ I guess he still didn’t trust me.”

  “It seems to me you had to work long and hard to earn Seth’s trust and devotion. He was a bit wary of me in the beginning as well and after hearing your story regarding Marcie, I can understand why. I’m just glad he finally wrote and you both were on better terms before he died.”

  “I just wish I’d had an opportunity to say goodbye,” said Simon sadly.

  Julia tried to stop a defiant tear from sliding down her cheek. “I never got the chance either.”

  Simon leaned forward, and taking both her hands let her cry unrestrainedly as he cursed life and the uncanny way it dealt out a sour hand to those who didn’t deserve it.

  Simon made it his ritual to call Julia often over the next few days. He’d ask about her day and casually let her know things were going well at the architectural firm who’d managed to coerce him into working for another week. Julia didn’t rebuff him but certainly didn’t encourage a meeting either and Simon had to remain satisfied with that for the present.

  On Octobertenth around lunchtime, he wandered into Paul Morris’ office at Tri-Tek. Paul was surprised to see him but rose cordially and extended a hand to the brother of the man his sister had loved.

  “Please take a seat,” he gestured, as Simon sank into the black leather chair across from the broad desk where Paul’s computer terminal hummed. “I was actually just about to call you,” said Paul “and planned to stop by your hotel to drop this by.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thin manila envelope. “I had the money deposited.”

  Simon perused the statement before smiling across the desk at Julia’s twin. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, and hopefully someday when Julia’s married and has children, this money will make a nice college fund or become a down payment on a dream house. I don’t care how she uses it; just that she eventually does use it.”

  Paul sank back down upon his own leather chair and steepled his hands before him.

  “So how much longer are you planning to remain here?”

  “My last day at the firm is tomorrow. They offered a short term contract to me, but I refused.”

  “Too uncomfortable,” surmised Paul.

  “That would be an understatement,” sighed Simon, and Paul noticed his hand absently rub his left hip vigorously. He’d observed the mild limp when Simon had first entered Julia’s flat over a week ago, but this time the limp was much more pronounced.

  “You have an injury?” he asked compassionately.

  Simon’s head jerked up. “It’s just an old ski injury aggravated by a later accident. It makes me realize I’m not getting any younger.” His fingers stopped massaging the sore spot near his hip. “Look Paul, one of the reasons I stopped by was to let you know I plan to linger in the neighborhood for awhile. It’s always been a dream of mine to explore southern California and now, since I have over two months remaining on my sabbatical, I thought this would be a good time to do it. I’m also just a bit concerned about Julia.”

  “You’re not the only one,” said Paul, shrugging. “She’s a key topic of conversation every time I visit my parents or run into one of her colleagues. I need to inform you that Julia has more tenacity and courage than I’ve ever seen in a woman, and I don’t say that just because she’s my twin sister. I would be lying, however, if I didn’t mention how concerned I am about your presence here.”

  “So you think my staying will upset her unduly?”

  “I don’t know. In many ways she seems to have gotten over the worse, but there are days when her e
yes drift far away and I know she hasn’t forgotten him.”

  “I don’t want her to forget him,” said Simon angrily. “From everything I’ve heard and witnessed, he was the best thing that ever happened to her, and vice versa. You must understand I feel some sense of family obligation and believe I owe it to my brother, especially since we parted on such harsh terms, to look after the woman he loved; it’s the least I can do.”

  Paul scrutinized the darkly clad form of Simon, who sat uncomfortably across from him. Simon seemed a man much more at ease in a pair of blue jeans and black leather jacket, but still looked striking in the dark gray suit, the white swatch of hair combed away from his pale forehead. A faint sheen of moisture glistened upon his face and Paul understood his anxiety.

  “I realize you may feel some sort of obligation to my sister and that’s all fine and good, but if you harbor any other thoughts about her romantically I think it would be best if you put them aside. She isn’t interested.”

  Simon straightened uncomfortably. “You believe I’m going to pursue my brother’s girlfriend?”

  “I really don’t know what all your motivations are Simon, and while I appreciate your money and time I’d like you to go easy with my sister. Even though you’re very different from your brother, you’re still a constant reminder of all she’s lost. Yet I’m the first to admit that on the other hand, your presence might actually prove a comfort to her. Sometimes I think my sister is walking through a huge fog she can’t seem to find her way out of. Maybe by sharing anecdotes of your childhood, showing pictures of your parents, and proving by your very presence that life does goes on, it will help bring her back to herself. Maybe she will finally be able to face the truth that Seth is never coming back and she has to move on with her life. You knew your brother well; you knew how intense he was. If you can find a way to help ease my sister’s day to day path through what she views as a God-awful life, then who am I to question your motives?”

  “I would never hurt her intentionally,” Simon protested, moved by Paul’s pained face.

  “All I can ask is tread softly sir, and understand that I believe in many ways Julia will never get over Seth. I have forewarned my wife and parents that I truly believe my sister is going to end up a lovelorn spinster, drowning herself inside the memories of a man who’s never coming back. And, as pathetic as I believe that is, I’m not sure there’s any way around it.” Paul was startled to see moisture well up in Simon’s eyes.

  “She loved him that much,” he stated softly. “You needn’t worry my friend, I have only her best interests at heart and will tread softly as you say.”

  Paul gazed for a long moment of the pained man sitting across from him and finally smiled.

  “So you finish work tomorrow, do you? Saturday, the girls and I plan to view a small exhibition on the promenade. Would you care to join us?”

  “I would be happy too,” said Simon, surprised at the invitation. “Paul… please don’t worry about my intentions. I only want to do what is right and if I can’t make Julia happier with my presence I promise to leave.”

  “Then how about 9:30? There’s an art gallery called Little Peter’s near the Fish Grill; I’ll see you there.” As Simon rose, Paul offered a hand. “Thanks for everything Simon. I just had to be frank with you.”

  “I appreciate that,” replied Simon, and took his leave.

  Just after five p.m. the next afternoon Simon Hayes met a man whose reputation was well-known to him at a bar called Miguel’s. The place was crowded and noisy, as all good bars are, and Stan Garten sat at a rear table puffing a slim cigar and adding his smoke to the countless fumes of others.

  “Well, well, well,” said Stan, as Simon dropped into the rickety wooden chair across the scarred table from where Stan lounged, squinting at him though the smoke of his putrid Cuban cigar. “It’s the wayward brother who’s the mirror image of his twin. Of course you look a little worse for wear; a great deal rougher I’d say than your suave and sophisticated brother. What’s with the leg, an old war wound?”

  “Nope,” said Simon, “just a ski injury.” The two didn’t bother to introduce themselves or exchange pleasantries. They knew who each other was.

  “So you went against the strict commands of Angus and contacted the Morris twins?”

  “I had to,” said Simon simply. “I needed to know she was okay.”

  “Well, I’m sure your dead brother appreciates it, but the concerns and cares of Julia Ann Morris are my responsibility, not yours, as I’m certain Angus has already told you. So why don’t you just trot back up to Toronto and let me do my job.”

  Simon raised a finger to a thin balding waiter who immediately scurried over. “Whatever you have on tap,” he ordered, and turned his attention back to the hostile brown eyes scrutinizing his person. “I’m not about to stop you. Go ahead and do your job, but note that I don’t feel comfortable with Julia Morris’ safety. Seth apparently didn’t receive the appropriate ‘care’ he needed.”

  “Are you accusing me of something Simon?”

  “No, but I’d feel a whole lot better if I could be absolutely certain nothing will happen to Paul, his new wife Angie, their parents, or the woman Seth loved. So I’m making it my personal responsibility to guarantee the entire Morris clan stays healthy.”

  Stan’s straight white teeth clenched as he took a sudden aversion to Simon Hayes. He would have loved to splash his light beer all over that too shiny motorcycle jacket and pinched pale face.

  “As I said before, it’s my job to look after the girl,” he ground out, the threat evident in his rough voice.

  “Just as you looked after her lover?”

  “That was an accident,” said Stan, refusing to be goaded.

  “Was it?” countered Simon.

  “You need to mind your own business and leave this to professionals.” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I do believe I hear Toronto calling.”

  “Nah, Toronto is getting way too cold this time of year and since I have a couple months free and some physical therapy to attend to, I thought this might just be a dandy time to hang around and soak up the sun, as the song says.”

  The sweaty waiter placed a pint of golden liquid in front of Simon who dug into his pocket and laid a couple of bills on the waiting waiter’s tray. He took three deep swallows of the amber beer and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as Stan glowered under thick dark brows.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’m a reasonable man and believe it would be best if we work together.

  Our goals are the same Officer Garten, so I agree to tread softly and stay out of your way. If anything comes up and you believe I should be alerted, give me a call.” He retrieved a thin business card out of his jacket pocket and pushed it across the table to the denim-clad policeman. Stan’s black moustache twitched and his only response was to take another deep drag on his foul cigar.

  “Keep in touch,” said Simon, rising from the wobbly, uncomfortable chair. He left his half-empty pint of beer on the table as he wove through the crowded mass of partying people and disappeared out the smoky entrance of the bar.

  Stan cursed loudly under his breath, finally reaching across the stained table to retrieve the neglected glass and lift it to his own lips. He downed it in one gulp. He had to admit the Canadian had guts, and resigned himself to the fact he and Simon were partners. Stan slammed down his beer and pocketed the business card, noting the hotel’s nearby address. A shapely blonde eyed him from under lowered lids from the bar, her cosmetically enhanced figure poured into a skintight black dress. Stan smiled across at her, inviting her to join him with the simple lifting of his black eyebrows. There were so many more interesting things to do than worry about Simon Hayes’ self-prescribed mission and he raised a finger to the waiter to deliver two more beers as the blonde glided toward his table.

  Simon showed up promptly at 9:30 in front of Little Peter’s. The art gallery was hosting an impressionistic display of several local artists and
Simon stuck his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and shivered in the October morning. The days were definitely getting cooler and foggier, and while much warmer than Toronto’s icy gloom he recognized this beach city also had its share of winter. He watched the trio approach. Angie and Paul strolled hand-in-hand, both dressed casually in blue denims and colorful tee tops under matching denim jackets. Julia was clad in a pair of black pants and a purple sweater, the narrow trousers emphasizing her thinness, and Simon sighed. She had lost too much weight in her ordeal.

  The three pulled up in front of Simon, who smiled across to them, recognizing Julia’s tentative response. He’d taken care with his appearance that morning, pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail and wearing a black leather jacket over a snowy white t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans that had a rip in the left knee. While he resembled his more serious brother, his attire, as well as his demeanor, indicated a totally separate individual and Julia visibly relaxed at his appearance. Simon extended his hand to the trio, making sure he didn’t grip Julia’s hand any longer than the newlyweds.

  “Planning on buying some paintings?” asked Paul, his green eyes scanning the easels lining the promenade.

  “Some of them are not half - bad,” admitted Simon, “but since I’m only renting my suite for the next couple of months, I’m not sure I can load myself down with any artwork right now.”

  “Let’s go in,” said Angie eagerly. She had a huge desire to place her own personal mark on the condo she now shared with her new husband, and a fresh new painting was just what she had in mind.

  “There’s a woman exhibiting here named Gloria Montabelli, who’s supposed to have done an exciting series of paintings of ocean birds,” stated Julia, smiling gently at Simon, her blonde hair fluttering in the constant wind that battered Santa Barbara’s shoreline in fall.

  “I’ll hold on to my wallet,” Simon responded easily, and followed the Morris’ into the trendy art gallery.

  The exhibition was far more extensive than Simon had anticipated and the four wandered through the crowded promenade, enjoying the paintings and often gasping at the outrageous price tags. Julia remained withdrawn and Simon never tried to force her into conversation, instead chatting quietly to Angie and Paul who exhibited all the symptoms of newlyweds. They were never able to stop touching, their heads bowed closely together as they spoke in soft caressing whispers. The couple finally settled on a small painting of a Black Oystercatcher, a Santa Barbara native, pecking at a sand crab as the foamy white salt water dashed over its webbed feet.