To Fall in Love Again

by David Burnett

  As he disappeared, the woman with the megaphone began to speak again. She was talking louder now, and Amy could hear her clearly. She said that male domination must come to an end and it was their mission to hasten its demise. She spoke of its various symbols and said that one of the first steps was to destroy them.

  A woman standing next to her reached into a tote bag and pulled out a bra. The speaker took it and held it aloft. “Destroy their symbols and we will destroy their world,” she called.

  As the women began to cheer, things all seemed to happen at once. A blond woman, standing in the middle of the group, stripped off her t-shirt, removed her bra, and tossed it to the speaker. “Take mine.”

  “That’s Lisa Little.” Maddie pointed to the bare back of the blond girl who was now jumping up and down, cheering.

  Wolf whistles rang across the quad as another woman pulled off her shirt and contributed her bra. A roar went up from the crowd. Men cheered. Women squealed, and a chant rose from the men’s dorms.

  “Take it off. Take it off. Take it off.”

  As the chant grew, three men dashed away from one of the dorms, pulling their clothes off as they ran toward the women, just as campus police officers converged on the quad. They tackled the guys easily. When they went after the women, though, they met a human shield, women with their arms linked firmly together. “Male chauvinist pigs, male chauvinist pigs,” the women screamed.

  The woman who had been speaking held a lighter under the three bras and the cotton began to catch fire. “Burn, burn, burn,” the women were chanting.

  Amy raised her fist in the air. “Burn,” she screamed. “Burn.”

  As jeers rose from the men’s dorms, the PA system on the Student Union came to life with a burst of static. “I Am Woman” started to pour from the speaker, and the women on the steps joined in, singing, drowning out the men’s taunts.

  Then, as the music died away, the woman holding the bras dropped the remains into a metal pail. The two women who had contributed to the cause had donned their shirts again and they blended into the crowd, undetectable by security.

  As the crowd began to disperse, Amy felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. His eyes were sparkling and he was laughing.

  “Did you see that blond chick strip down?”

  Amy turned on him. “She’s not a blond chick, Jack, she’s a woman.”

  “I’ll say she is a woman. I was over at the dorm when the clothes started flying.” He laughed. “A sight to behold.”

  Amy pushed his hand away. “You don’t get it do you? All we want—”

  “Pretty clear what she wants.” Jack scanned the crowd. “Where did she go?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Aw, come on, Amy. I’m just a guy…”

  Amy laughed at the hound-dog expression on his face. “You need serious help,” she said. “The world is changing, Jack.”

  “I’ll behave,” he said.

  “Okay.” She smiled.

  Jack kissed her cheek. Then, he whispered in her ear. “Take it off. Take it all off.”

  To which Amy huffed, and walked away.

  “Guess I’ll have to find the blond chick,” Jack called after her.

  ***

  It was so like Jack, Amy thought as she finished her coffee.

  Jack had located Lisa that night. Amy’s face turned scarlet each time he told the story, eagerly describing to anyone who would listen how the blond chick who had asked for it on the quad had done pretty much everything he had expected her to do—Lisa had left a handprint on his face, and Jack wore it as if it were the Medal of Honor.

  Amy didn’t believe his story, but his bruised face had told her that he had certainly tried.

  “Pig,” she whispered. Her mother had told her not to marry him. Her sister, her roommates, even Maddie, an incurable romantic, had told her he was a snake, and she hadn’t listened.

  “I’ll not make that mistake again,” she vowed. “No man will ever dominate me again. Not Jason Cooper, not Drew Nelson, not…not any man.”

  Finishing her coffee, she stepped outside. She was not ready to coop herself up in her office and she had called to say she would be late. She began to walk, striding down the street, attempting to release the tension that still filled her body. She looked straight ahead, ignoring the stores which were beginning to open for the day.

  As she approached Butler’s Jewelry Store, she recalled shopping there with Drew before Christmas. She slowed her pace and glanced across the street. She gasped when she saw Drew standing at one of the counters, next to a woman. The woman’s back was turned and she could not see who she was, but she clearly remembered seeing the engagement rings in that particular showcase. She had stolen a peek when Drew’s back had been turned and had seen beautiful diamonds waiting for some man to buy for his bride.

  As she watched now, the jeweler—the same man who had helped them in December—held up a ring for Drew to inspect. Then he slid it on to the woman’s finger.

  Amy began to cry, again. Jason Cooper was right. Elaine was right. Drew was a snake. He was one of them and he had been using her. She turned away and ran toward her car.

  ***

  “Which one do you think she would like?”

  Drew stood in Butler’s Jewelry Store with Anna Thomas, looking at engagement rings. They had already decided that Amy would like a ring with a single stone. It would be different from the one she now wore on her right hand that had a diamond surrounded by several other jewels.

  “Most of Amy’s jewelry is silver,” Anna said, “so you might want to go with white gold rather than yellow.”

  The jeweler laid four rings on a velvet cloth.

  “You don’t want the diamond to be too small, but you don’t want it to be too large, either.”

  “It’s gaudy if it’s too large?”

  “It can be. The other problem is that if it is too large, some people might not believe it’s real. I’ve seen it happen. The daughter of a friend of mine has a ring that I know cost a small fortune, but it’s so large that you would swear it must be glass.” She inspected the four rings. “I would suggest something like this one.” She pointed to one of them. “I think Amy would absolutely love it.”

  Drew told the jeweler that he would give the ring some thought, then he and Anna walked down King Street, stopping at a pastry shop for breakfast.

  “I appreciate your helping me with this, Anna, and thank you for meeting me at the store so early this morning.”

  “I was happy to do it, Drew.”

  “What did Edward say when you told him that you were shopping for an engagement ring? You did tell him, didn’t you?”

  “He asked the name of the lucky man.” Anna laughed. “He was pleased. Edward and I just love Amy, and I’m sure the two of you will be so happy. I look forward to having her as my next-door neighbor.” She took a sip of coffee.

  “He did say that he appreciated being told what we were doing, though. Someone is sure to have seen us, and you know how people jump to conclusions.”

  After breakfast, they walked home. Drew paused at Anna’s gate. “Thank you again for your help.”

  “Not at all. You make sure to let me know when you give her the ring.”

  “I will. You’ll be among the first.”

  When he reached his house, Drew made a cup of coffee then climbed the stairs to his office and settled into his chair. A box wrapped in brown paper lay on the desk.

  He carefully opened the package, slipping his finger under the tape and gently pulling the wrapping paper away. It was almost like opening a present. Inside, he found the final proof of Di’s book, The End of My Life. He had argued for a less direct title, a more poetic one, perhaps, but her editor had insisted, citing Di’s instructions. The final proof was one in which changes could only be made for factual error. Practically speaking, it was an advance copy.

  The package had been delivered the afternoon before. Drew had left it on his desk, waiting to
open it in the morning when he would have time to read through it without interruption. He was free for the rest of the day. It was the second week of January, and classes would not begin until the following morning.

  As he slowly began to turn the pages, he reached one with the title Acknowledgement. He’d never seen this one before. He scanned the page, wiped his eyes and began to read.

  I obviously could not complete a book concerning the end of my life. Left to myself, this volume would have ended some time—a week, a month, perhaps—before my death. The task of completing this account fell to my husband, Drew, and I want to acknowledge his participation. It was an unwilling participation, I know. He did not want to do it. He felt he would be unable to. He accepted the assignment because, as he always did, he wanted to make me happy. Knowing Drew as I do, after over three decades of marriage, I know that he will be by my side in my final days on earth, and I know that his account of that time will be accurate.

  Drew turned his eyes away and gazed through the window at the dreary winter garden. Di had known him well. He had been by her side every day. He had done his best to complete the account that she was leaving behind. He turned back to the book.

  Beyond his joint authorship of this book, I want to acknowledge Drew for the wonderful person he is. He has been my companion, my protector, my love. He is the father of my children, a willing traveler on all of my journeys, save this one, a person who has always been beside me to listen, to advise, and to comfort.

  She was correct. Her last journey had been forced on him. Had he been given the choice, she would not have made it.

  We read in St. Paul’s letter that love never ends, and my love for Drew is eternal. I know that I will see him again—many years from now, I trust—and I will greet him with great joy. I feel jealous of those who will know him and love him until that time. He knows that I will always be near him.

  Drew nodded.

  Given a choice, Drew would have omitted this acknowledgement, but he was not given that choice. My agent and my editor have been given explicit instructions, and Drew will not be able to persuade them otherwise. I want all of my readers to know Drew and to understand how important he and his love have been to me throughout my life and as I approach my life’s end.

  The acknowledgement was signed, Diana Alexander Nelson, Charleston, South Carolina, New Year’s Day, 2012.

  Drew closed the book and laid it on the desk. He felt Di standing beside him, and he quickly looked up, but he saw no one. Still, he felt her presence. He leaned back in his chair and gazed across the room at Di’s icon corner. His eyes wandered across each in turn, soaking in the beauty of each image, remembering his wife.

  He spent most of the day at his desk, reading her book, laughing and crying, sometimes both at once. Twice he telephoned Jennifer to read passages. One described Di’s last Christmas with her family. The other recounted a visit from Lucas in early January, shortly before Drew had to assume responsibility for the narrative.

  Jennifer and Lucas had arrived at the nursing home at lunchtime. While Jennifer had talked to one of the nurses, Lucas had slipped away and gone to Di’s room. He had found his grandmother asleep and had curled up in bed beside her. Jennifer had been frantic when she looked down and found Lucas missing. The staff had spread out, checking every room, the parking lot, any place that he might be. Di’s room was one of the last places that they had searched.

  Di had awakened and she and Lucas were discussing the new bedspread his mother had bought for him—it had a Cars theme—when one of the orderlies had popped in, looking for him.

  “I heard the nurse say that Grandma didn’t feel well,” Lucas had said. “When I feel sick and Mom cuddles with me, it makes me feel better.”

  Later in the afternoon, Drew went for a walk, remembering how he and Di had strolled through the streets of Charleston almost every afternoon. It was cold, he noted, but that had never stopped them. She had written about a walk they had taken in mid-November, about three months before she had died.

  It was a Saturday afternoon. An early cold snap had emptied the streets of tourists. Dull gray clouds had hung over the harbor, mirrored in the water that lapped against the seawall. They had almost turned back before reaching the Battery. It was a two-block walk from their house, and Di had needed to rest. She had sat on one of the steps for several minutes before standing again.

  “Maybe we should try again, tomorrow,” Drew had suggested, but she had shaken her head.

  “I have always loved to look out at the harbor on days like this. I will miss the winter in Charleston.” She had had looked at him, her eyes, usually bright blue were instead reflecting the color of the clouds too. “Just a little way. Please.” She had struggled up the flight of steps and they crept along for about a block.

  “I’ve gone about as far as I can,” she’d murmured.

  Drew had almost run back to the house to get the car. It was the last time, she had written, that she had been strong enough to walk any farther than their front door.

  ***

  When she reached her office, Amy closed her door and let everyone other than Ellen believe she was not in. She started to call the young man who had filed her divorce petition, to ask for help in contesting Jack’s will, but she decided that she would prefer to work with a woman.

  A friend referred her to Kimi Carson, who specialized in estate law with the McIntosh Law Firm. Amy made an appointment to talk with her just after lunch.

  The McIntosh Firm occupied a three-story building near the center of the city. As she greeted the receptionist in the entrance hall, Amy thought that she had never seen as much dark wood and marble in her life. She was directed to the second floor, where she was greeted by another receptionist.

  Amy sat in one of the leather-covered chairs in the waiting area and opened her book. She heard one of the doors open and a young woman—she appeared to be about Elaine’s age—walked over to her.

  “Ms. Barrett? I’m Kimi Carson. It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Come on in.”

  Kimi’s office was smaller than Jason Cooper’s but was furnished in a similar manner. She pointed to two chairs in front of her desk. “Sit down.”

  Amy chose a chair and Kimi sat next to her.

  “You said that there is a problem with your husband’s estate. Tell me about it.”

  Amy described her meeting with Jason Cooper while Kimi took notes.

  “What a pompous jackass,” Kimi exclaimed when Amy had finished. “You were entirely correct. You are entitled to half of the estate, regardless of what that snake left you.”

  “Jason said that I could end up losing more than I could gain if I contested the will. He threatened to sell my house, to keep the money for a year. Where would I live? What would I do?”

  “It won’t happen, Amy. His threats are empty. He wanted to frighten you. If they dissuade you from contesting the will, he will proceed to probate, but he will not want to find himself in court defending an indefensible document. If he moves to sell your house, or if he delays the settlement, we’ll petition the court to replace him as your husband’s representative.”

  She glanced at her notes. “I will obtain copies of all of Jack’s records. As an heir, you are entitled to have those. I will petition to be notified when the estate is filed. If he tries to proceed, we’ll know it and be able to intervene. I’ll let Mr. Cooper know that you are represented by McIntosh, and that a settlement based on the provisions of the will are going to be dead on arrival in probate court.”

  Amy looked around the room. She saw Kimi’s diploma from Emory Law School and her license, both framed and hanging on one wall. She could not make out the dates.

  Kimi followed her glance. “I’ve been in practice for three years, Ms. Barrett. I’ve prepared numerous wills and I’ve defended at least ten of them in court.”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t…”

  “If you’d like someone more experienced, I can arrange that.”
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  “No, no. I’m sorry. I, uh, do you think you’ll be able to handle Jason Cooper?”

  “Ms. Barrett, I do not expect to have any problem with Mr. Cooper.” She looked Amy in the eye. “When you hire me, you hire the McIntosh Law Firm. If I do have any trouble, I’ll have a truck-load of backup.”

  As Amy prepared to leave, Kimi cautioned her. “I believe that Mr. Cooper will see reason once I talk with him.” She paused. “If not, and this gets to court, it could be messy and it could be public. You will prevail, but, in fairness to your children, they need to know what is happening.”

  ***

  Amy stopped at Elaine’s house on her way home from work. When she had called, Elaine had told her that James had a meeting and would not be at home. Amy felt relieved that she would not have to tell her son-in-law what had happened. Elaine, she could tell. Cathy. Rich. She could tell them. But anyone else? She shivered.

  “Come on in, Mom.” Elaine opened the door. “Like some coffee? James isn’t home, I told you, he’s, um, got a meeting. Zach and Amber are down the street at their friend’s house.”

  She led the way to the kitchen. “They seem to have enjoyed the fireworks. Thank you, again, for taking them for the night.” She poured two cups of coffee. “You sounded serious on the phone. What’s up?”

  “I saw Jason Cooper, your dad’s attorney this morning. He, ah, he showed me your father’s will. Your dad signed a codicil the morning before he died.”

  “What did Dad do? Leave everything to his girlfriend?” Elaine chuckled at her joke.

  “What…what did you say?” Amy jumped and put her mug on the table, hard.

  Elaine looked startled, the smile falling from her face. She put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Mom, I’m teasing. I’m just teasing. We both know that Dad would never—”

  She handed Elaine a copy of Jack’s will. Kimi Carson had obtained the copy immediately after talking with Amy, and she’d had it delivered to Amy’s office. “Read it, Elaine.”

  Elaine quickly scanned the will and the codicil. She looked at her mother, confused.