Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey

by Joachim, Jean C.

  * * * *

  Across town on North Main Street

  Marcia Wilton approached the steps of Willow Falls Medical Center. Her tired eyes noticed the cheerful colors of the spring flowers in window boxes. She walked up the steps of the large brick building slowly. Her husband, Jay, was back in the hospital. He had been fighting cancer for five years and now was losing the battle. Marcia went every day. The pain of seeing her handsome, athletic husband wasting away was intense.

  The doctor told her he thought Jay would last six months, so Marcia had taken a sabbatical from her position teaching art history at Kensington State to be with him.

  “It’s spring outside,” Marcia said, walking into his room to find him standing at the window.

  Jay trained his gaze on her and offered a wan smile.

  “Any flowers up yet?”

  “Tulips. Don’t know what’s coming up at the new house.”

  Marcia and Jay had been married for nine years. They’d waited to have children, but by the time Marcia was thirty-three and ready, Jay was stricken with stomach cancer and neither he nor Marcia could think about anything else. They pooled their strength and fought the disease with everything possible. Two remissions, then the cancer returned and spread. Jay was brave, stoic at times, but now he was resigned.

  “You didn’t eat?”

  “Nothing tastes good.” Jay shifted his weight from one hip to the other.

  “I brought corned beef today. Try some.” Marcia held half a sandwich out to him.

  He took three bites and stopped. Fifteen minutes later, Jay dozed off.

  Marcia took a bite of the sandwich but could barely swallow it. She took out a crochet project and began work. She often crocheted or read when he slept.

  Occasionally she brought a special treat from the Jewish Bakery to tempt him to eat. They would share it and reminisce about the last time they ate chocolate babka. Often there’d be procedures, baths and other events cutting her time short. It didn’t matter if she left early because there was nothing waiting for her at home.

  Their families rallied around them at first, but year after year of hope then despair, hope then despair wore them out. Now at thirty-eight, Marcia had no children to provide comfort, and her family, who lived far away, had gotten on with their lives.

  Jay’s mother found it devastating to visit him, but she made the two-hour bus trip once every week anyway. His brother and sister lived on the west coast, too far away to visit. Death frightens people, Marcia reminded herself when she felt angry and deserted.

  After an hour, Marcia packed up her project, kissed Jay’s forehead and left him sleeping fitfully. The tap-tap-tapping of her heels on the hospital corridor echoed her feeling of loneliness as she made her way to the front door.

  The bright sunshine mocked her heavy heart as she got in her car and drove almost by rote to the small house on First Street she and Jay had rented for the past three years. They had owned a lovely big house on Fillmore Street in the posh Linden Lake section, when Jay was well and working as the head accountant for Valley Country Club and Resort. But Jay hadn’t worked in the past three years. He was on disability, which didn’t bring in enough money, even with Marcia’s teaching, to keep the big house. Marcia made only enough money in her job at the university to pay the rent on the small house.

  Johnny Novacek, a young man born in America from immigrant Czech parents, was their landlord. Johnny bought several small houses in disrepair, fixed them up with the help of his father, Jakub, and rented them out to support his wife and two young children.

  When she got home, Marcia put “Let It Be” by The Beatles on the CD player and made herself a strong vodka and tonic. Some days, Marcia pulled out their wedding pictures or pictures of wonderful, sexy vacations on the island of St. John where she and Jay made love on deserted beaches and swam in the clear aqua waters of the Caribbean. When Jay first got sick, Marcia started scrapbooks to help her hold on to their life together.

  The longing for her old life with Jay became an ache in her chest. He was so full of joy in the old pictures, always smiling. They used to laugh all the time, because everything is funny when you’re young, healthy and madly in love. She couldn’t laugh anymore so she put away the pictures and scrapbooks and poured herself another drink.

  Even picking up a lamb chop, Jay’s favorite meat, at the grocery store reduced her to tears, or hearing his favorite songs on the radio. She cried when she awoke in the middle of the night, reaching for Jay in the empty bed. She cried when she opened the closet and saw his clothes there. Marcia had cried for months. She couldn’t cry anymore.

  She watched only sports on television because she didn’t need to concentrate. It took a supreme effort simply to get the bills paid each month. Sometimes when an attractive man with brown hair and warm eyes came on the television, she remembered how much she adored making love with Jay and touching his strong swimmer’s body. He was a good lover, frisky and mad for her. But they hadn’t made love in almost three years. She didn’t remember the last time and at the time hadn’t realized it would be their last.

  * * * *

  Back at the house, Peter took a piece of paper with a phone number on it out of his pocket. He picked up his cell phone and hesitated.

  “Who do you still know here?” Callie asked.

  “Bianca Trieste. An old girlfriend.”

  “How old?” Callie unpacked a box of books, lining them up in an empty bookcase.

  “From eight years ago.” Peter put the phone down and instead pulled shirts out of a suitcase and put them in a pile on the sofa.

  “Serious?”

  “We were almost engaged.”

  Callie stopped what she was doing and listened.

  “She was the first woman I ever loved. I asked her to marry me and she turned me down to go to Europe on a modeling trip.”

  He opened another box and took out a fistful of notebooks.

  “And you still want to talk to her?” Callie asked, moving several books onto a new shelf.

  “I think so,” Peter said, stacking the notebooks on the credenza behind the sofa.

  “Haven’t put it to rest?” Callie said, unloading another box of books.

  “Guess not.” Peter collapsed a box and placed it on the floor, then took another.

  “Is that why you’re not married?”

  “Maybe. Maybe I haven’t met the right woman yet.” Peter sat on the floor, sorting a third box of books into two piles.

  “Have you been in love since Bianca?” Callie handed two empty boxes to Peter.

  “Love? No.” Peter laughed but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Call her. Eight years is a long time to carry a torch.”

  “There have been plenty of women to replace her…can’t seem to move on,” Peter said, standing up and collapsing boxes.

  “You’re a chick magnet, if ever there was one.” Callie blushed at the frankness of her statement.

  “It has its downside too. For once I’d like to start off differently with a woman.”

  “What do you mean?” Callie put another empty box aside and stopped to look at him.

  “I’d like to meet someone who didn’t…who wouldn’t…” Peter waved his hand in the air, unable to produce the words.

  “Someone who wasn’t attracted to you by your looks first?” Callie finished for him.

  “I’m not God’s gift to women or anything, but I’d like to be me first.”

  “Good luck, Peter.”

  “When do we get to see the Caldwell Mansion?”

  “Right after we pick up a rental car for you and…Sam.” Callie stacked a handful of books on the coffee table.

  “Call him Dad, or you’ll make him feel like a stranger. Rental car? Crap. You drive on the right here.”

  “Don’t you?” Callie raised her eyebrows.

  “The left. Crap, means I’ve got to drive. Dad’ll get us killed.”

  Sam and Mac followed the children i
n the house.

  “I’m driving, Dad.”

  “Good, ’cause I haven’t driven on the right in years. Wouldn’t want to kill everyone on my first day,” he said with a chuckle.

  Peter shot Callie a knowing glance as they herded the children back to the car.

  After picking up the rental car, Peter and Sam followed Callie, Mac and their kids to their house for dinner. It was nine-thirty p.m. before Callie and Mac got the kids settled in and gave directions to Sam and Peter as they ventured back to their house on their own. Callie stood at the living room window, holding the curtain open a little to watch them drive away.

  “It’s wonderful to have Sam and Peter here. I already feel like they’re my father and brother.”

  “I’m glad.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her.

  “You must be happy.”

  Mac kissed her neck, then brushed his lips lightly up to her earlobe.

  “I’m glad to see Dad and Pete. But now, I’m happy to see you. In fact, I’d like to see more of you,” he said, easing her shirt up.

  Callie turned around and fell into his arms for a passionate kiss.

  “I’d like to show you what an absolute pistol I am in the bedroom,” he whispered in her ear, cracking a big smile.

  “Mac Caldwell! A pistol? You were listening in today?” Callie smacked his shoulder lightly.

  “I came back for the car keys.” He shrugged innocently.

  “You heard our whole conversation?” Color flooded her cheeks.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Callie.”

  “But you overheard me talking about you.”

  “The things you were saying…” Mac said, reaching under her shirt unfastening her bra, “…were soooo nice,” he said, sliding his hands around to cradle her breasts.

  “Mac…” she said, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against him, her breath coming faster.

  “What, baby?” he said, his eyes closed.

  “It’s true…you’re my lover.” She unbuckled his belt.

  They undressed and left their clothes in a heap on the living room floor. Callie ran her hands up his hard chest, through the soft black hair and around his neck. His hands slipped down her back to rest on her firm behind and pull her closer to him. She kissed him, opening her lips to his tongue. Mac picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, closing the door gently with his foot so as not to wake the children.

  Chapter Two

  Mac stuffed the family, including Sam and Peter, into their SUV and drove to their small place on Lake Onondaga in Pennsylvania for the weekend. The house had one wall of glass overlooking the water and connected, through sliding glass doors, to a deck which jutted out far enough to double as a dock. With a big sectional sofa surrounding a large fireplace in the living room, their home was comfortable for a crowd both in summer and winter.

  Sam had given the house to Callie and Mac for a wedding present. He and his late wife, Ellen, spent several happy summers there before she died. When they arrived, Sam was the first one out of the car. He stood looking at the small building as tears pricked his eyes.

  “This was Ellen’s dream house,” he said to Callie. “She’d be so happy to see us all here together…and with grandchildren. A wish come true…”

  She gave his hand a squeeze, then stuck the key in the front door lock and turned it.

  “It’s our dream house too…Dad,” she said.

  He smiled at her as he reached for his handkerchief. After wiping his eyes, he took Callie’s hand and held it as she opened the door and they walked in together.

  “Dad’s become a bit mushy in his old age, Pete,” Mac observed, hiding his mouth with his hand.

  “He’s always been mushy, Mac.”

  “God, I hope we don’t get mushy at his age,” Mac whispered to Peter.

  The kids ran into the house. Jason took possession of Grandpa’s left arm while Kitty hung on his right.

  “What about Uncle Peter? Who wants to show him the lake?”

  Kitty, who’d flirted with Peter most of the way in the car as she’d claimed the seat next to him, piped up, “Me!”

  “It figures,” Mac muttered.

  “Mac!” Callie said, punching him lightly in the arm.

  Jason took Sam’s hand and Kitty took Peter’s hand when they all went down to the lake. Sam pointed out the landmarks he remembered on the way, like the tree where he and Ellen watched a hawk nesting and a field where deer grazed.

  “We go fishing here all the time but never catch anything. Do you know why, Grandpa?”

  “No idea, Jason.”

  “Uncle Peter, Uncle Peter,” Kitty called, motioning with her hand for him to join her wading into the lake.

  Peter took off his socks and shoes and rolled up his pants. Kitty kicked off her sandals and took his hand.

  After dinner, when both kids were tucked in bed, the exhausted adults sat down on their deck and opened a bottle of wine and lit candles.

  “I’d like to make a toast,” Sam said. “To Callie and the kids. Mac, your wife and children exceed my expectations by a mile. Long life and love to all.”

  They all raised their glasses. Callie teared up and started to cry.

  Sam, Mac and Peter all reached into their pockets and pulled out handkerchiefs for her at the same time, which made her laugh.

  “It’s a Caldwell male tradition, Callie. Ellen insisted we all carry handkerchiefs,” Sam said, smiling.

  “Callie cries when she’s happy, so I’m always ready,” Mac said.

  “Especially in the bedroom, right, Mac?” Peter teased.

  “Don’t go there, Pete,” Mac warned.

  “Boys!” Sam threw a stern look their way. “They’re always teasing each other. I hoped they’d have outgrown it by now,” Sam said to Callie, looking pointedly at Peter.

  “What? I’ve got to show him I missed him, don’t I?” Peter asked with an innocent shrug.

  “I’m so happy you’re all here. Peter, what was Mac like as a boy?”

  “Well, Callie…”

  “Don’t believe a word he says. He was jealous of me,” Mac said.

  “Jealous? Of what? A nerdy guy who couldn’t talk to girls?”

  “I didn’t waste my time talking to girls.” Mac sat back, taking a sip of wine.

  “Like you were some big make-out artist or something?” Peter made a face at his brother.

  “I did all right.”

  “You did? At what age did you do all right with girls?” Callie asked.

  Mac blushed and clammed up. Peter laughed.

  “His first girlfriend was Jenny Simmons. He was fifteen,” Peter volunteered.

  “What happened between you and Jenny?” Callie raised an eyebrow.

  “Pete, keep quiet. You don’t know Callie, she’s like a private detective and prosecuting attorney rolled into one. You give her a little bit of information and she’ll dig out your entire sexual history.”

  “She can’t with me. It’d take a hundred years,” Peter said, laughing.

  Mac laughed too. “If Callie wants to know something about you, she won’t stop until she has it…and then some.”

  “You make me sound like a bloodhound,” Callie said.

  “Well, babe, sometimes the resemblance is uncanny,” Mac said, laughing.

  “Looks like you’re not going to need any handkerchiefs in the bedroom tonight, Mac,” Peter snickered.

  Mac got up and punched Peter playfully in the arm. Peter grabbed him in a headlock and the men started to wrestle.

  “Mac! Peter! Cut it out!” Sam yelled.

  Callie got busy pulling lamps and tables out of their way as the two tall men rolled around on the floor.

  “Boys! Stop!” Sam yelled and got up. He pulled at Mac, then Peter. Finally they separated, breathing heavily and looking at each other. Mac was rubbing an elbow and Peter was stroking his temple. In a minute they both burst out laughing.

  “After all t
hese years, it’s still a draw,” Sam said, shaking his head.

  Peter went over to Mac and gave him a bear hug.

  Mac smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “Welcome home, shrimp.”

  “Shrimp? He’s taller than you are, Mac,” Callie said.

  “Now he is, but he wasn’t always. It took him years to catch up,” Mac said.

  “These two were a handful, Callie.” Sam laughed. “I guess they still are.”

  “I can handle them,” she said, smiling.

  Saturday became a busy day at the lake with fishing and not catching anything, looking for bear tracks, coloring, reading and swimming with Jason and Kitty. Peter fit right in, playing with the children and helping cart food in and out of the kitchen. The children charmed him and kept him laughing, much to Callie’s delight.

  Callie worried the physical affection she shared with Mac might make Peter feel left out or jealous, but he smiled when he caught them exchanging a quick kiss or loving embrace.

  * * * *

  “Can’t get enough, huh? Don’t you ever pass her without touching her?” Peter asked his brother.

  “If you had a woman like her, would you?” Mac piled plates together.

  “Guess not. You’re lucky.” Peter picked up the salad bowl.

  “Damn right.” Mac carted the plates into the kitchen.

  “Didn’t know you were such a touchy-feely kind of guy, Mac. Always thought of you as…stoic, I guess,” Peter said, popping open two beers in the kitchen and handing one to Mac.

  “It’s Callie. Just can’t keep my hands off her.”

  “I can see why,” Peter replied with a chuckle.

  “Watch it, Pete,” Mac warned, raising his palm to his brother.

  Peter put up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Joking here…your first marriage wasn’t like that?”

  “Got that right. Callie is different. Never met a woman like her.” Mac turned to look at his brother as he took a healthy swig of his beer.