Back Forever

by Karen Booth

  I shrugged. “I do. It’s just that Helena changes the sheets at the house in LA and I guess I never paid much attention.” Much of the domestic stuff was still a mystery to me, but I’d done a decent job over the last few months of faking my way through it.

  She tossed a sheet at me, hitting the center of my chest. “That’s the fitted sheet.”

  If you say so. “I know full-well what this is.” I tucked one corner around and walked to the next corner to do the same.

  Claire was putting on the pillowcases. “My dad was smart. He made his bed this morning after we brought the first load over.”

  “Sam has us all beat. Spending the day at Leah’s was even smarter.” With the fitted sheet on, I spread out the flat sheet. The one thing I did know about bed linens was that I most certainly did not like the top sheet tucked under at the end. It made my feet feel as though they were being held hostage.

  “I think the new comforter is in the corner.” Claire pointed to a paper shopping bag leaning against the wall beneath the window.

  I climbed over the obstacle course of boxes to fetch it, unfolding it after I removed it from the plastic. Claire and I spread it out together—a pretty, fluffy cover of gray and pale blue and white, an oversized print of branches and leaves.

  “I’m going to miss my mom’s quilt,” Claire said wistfully.

  “We still have it. We can put it at the end of the bed. Keep it for when you get cold.” I dropped the overnight bag Claire had packed for us onto the bed. “I predict I’ll be putting it on you every night.”

  “I don’t know. Pregnancy is making me very hot.”

  I beamed, pointing at her splendid chest. “I noticed.”

  “Not that kind of hot.” She shook her head and plucked her pajamas from the suitcase. “Time for bed.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I ambled into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I turned on the faucet, noticing how dingy it was. I’d had it in my head that this room was one of the few that didn’t need much work, but now that we were here, I could see that I’d been looking through I-just-want-to-find-a-damn-house colored glasses.

  Claire was splashing water on her face, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. It felt like the first true glimpse of what married life would be with her, in our own house, the two of us together, alone. I stepped closer, trailing my fingers the length of her spine, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she patted her face dry with a towel.

  “Hi.” She smiled.

  “Hello, yourself.” I grinned after seeing the flash of her deep blue eyes.

  “Ready for bed? Breath all minty fresh?”

  I eased behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, which made her breasts appear even more impressive…and tempting in a tight-fitting tank top. “I am more than ready for bed.” I pressed my lips to her neck.

  She hummed and knocked her head to the side. “I thought you were exhausted.”

  “I can always muster the strength for love.”

  She giggled. “That might be the corniest thing you’ve ever said to me. Have you considered a second career in the greeting card business?”

  “I haven’t. Why don’t I take you to bed and we can talk all about it?”

  “Why do I have the feeling we’ll do nothing of the sort?”

  “Oh, there’ll be talking, but not about greeting cards.” I took her hand and led her to the bed, but I reflexively went to what had apparently only been my side temporarily. “Do I really have to switch to be closer to the door?”

  “What if I tell you it’ll make me happy?”

  I threw back the comforter and climbed in on my new side. “That’s all I need to hear. The alternative is unbearable.”

  Claire snuggled up to me immediately and kissed me softly, while my hand skimmed beneath her top, caressing her back. “Oh,” she said.

  I pressed a kiss to her cheek then nuzzled her ear. “You like that?”

  “No. Wait—”

  That word—no. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shhh.” Her hand scrambled behind her back until she found mine. She grabbed it and slid it around to her belly.

  Wait. There it was. A wiggle. The lightest of thumps against my palm. “Is that?”

  “Just wait.” She pressed against the back of my hand, much more forcefully than I ever would have.

  Again, the wiggle. It was stronger now, a feeling that I could imagine would be like caging a butterfly in your hands. Except that it was our baby. “I finally felt it.” This is real now.

  “I know.” Her voice had a new lightness. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “It is.” There in the dark, I shook my head. This might have been the best baby milestone yet and there was so much to come. Hard to believe it’s finally happening.

  “I think he or she has decided to go to sleep.”

  I pulled her into my arms. “Oh well, the nipper needs sleep, just like mum and dad.”

  Claire nestled her head in my armpit and I sensed that perhaps tonight wasn’t the night for romance. Even after the excitement of feeling the baby move, every passing moment pushed my body closer to sleep. “We did well today. The move is done and out of the way. Big hurdle. I got to feel the baby move. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

  “I’m glad that finally happened. Now we have a week to get everything in order so we can get married.”

  “We’d better get our sleep now, while we can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I hung up the phone and scanned my notes—pages and pages of notes. An hour on the phone with Laura Simmons and I now had more than fifty interview suggestions, twenty recurring feature ideas, and an array of freelancers to contact.

  I’d bit my tongue dozens of times. But Chris’s family is coming in from England. I’m getting married in two days. It was all to remain top secret. The wedding was at home for a reason—no photographers, no limelight, no microscope. It was bad enough that the tabloids had figured out that I was pregnant. We didn’t want them to find out about the wedding. Therefore, I shut my trap as Laura drowned me with ideas and additional responsibilities. I said “no problem” when she made me promise her a complete update on January fifth, the first Monday back at work after the New Year.

  I tossed the legal pad aside. How in the hell am I going to do all of this? I tried to reason with myself. Maybe it only seems like too much to get done. You always get overwhelmed when someone heaps a pile of work on you at one time.

  The baby squirmed. I know, honey, I’m hungry too.

  I made my way down to the kitchen from the new home office, which Chris and I were sharing. I found an apple in the shiny new stainless steel fridge that seemed to be the same size as my first car. The clock on the double wall-ovens said two thirty-five. Chris would be back from picking up his mum and one of his two sisters, Kate, from the airport soon. One more thing to be insanely freaked out about. What if his mom hates me? My dad hated Chris at first. Then what?

  I leaned against the counter, took a huge bite of the apple. There were only so many things my pregnant brain could handle and at that moment, the most pressing matter was food. Needing a snack was becoming an hourly occurrence, annoying and time-consuming for sure, but at least I better understood how Chris must feel all the time.

  Another growl. Another kick. Only one thing could satisfy this all-encompassing hunger—peanut butter. The jar and spoon had been my frequent companion of late. Messing around with graham crackers seemed like a waste of time. It tasted so damn good I wanted to mainline the stuff.

  I dug in and wandered into the living room. Mmm. Sometimes I can’t believe this stuff is legal. I sat on one of the white wood folding chairs we’d rented for the ceremony. Everything had already been delivered, we just needed to set the rest of it up.

  I gazed up at the vaulted living room ceiling. Chris, Sam, and my dad had spent hours the night before hanging up countless paper lanterns—all different sizes, swinging from varying heights,
all white. Each one had a bundle of twinkle lights inside of it, an idea Sam had found online. My dad, always in need of a project, had carefully coordinated where the wires would go, so that they were bundled neatly and out of view. I’d been barred from the ladder due to my so-called delicate condition.

  As I spooned the peanut butter from the jar and sucked the spoon clean, I felt anything but delicate. Thank goodness the wedding was happening now instead of a month or two from now. My belly grew rounder every day. And for fuck’s sake, please let my wedding dress fit.

  One more spoonful, and I closed my eyes, finally feeling my hunger abate. How did I get here? I’m getting married tomorrow. To Chris.

  When Chris and I had first started our relationship, it took a concerted effort to separate what he was, the rock star, and who he was, the man who I most loved. Now it took almost no effort at all. Almost.

  “There you are,” he said.

  I whipped around and the spoon went flying, skidding across the floor. Oh shit.

  Chris laid his hand on my shoulder. “You okay, darling?” He pointed at a tiny wet spot on the front of my shirt.

  Fabulous. I was drooling. “I guess I dozed off.”

  Two women I’d only seen in pictures stood behind him. His mother, with a pile of gray hair threatening to topple off her head, smiled skeptically. His sister, tall and statuesque like Chris, with a cascade of silken coppery light brown hair, bent over and picked up the peanut butter spoon with the tips of two fingers.

  “You must be Claire,” she said, with an air of superiority. “And I take it this is your spoon.”

  Chris took the dreaded utensil from her and put his arm around me. “Mum, Kate, this is Claire.”

  I extended my hand and shook Kate’s, noticing that her eyes were nearly as green as Chris’s. “I’m so happy to meet you both. Chris has told me so much about you. I’m sorry about the spoon and the…” My voice feathered away as I noticed the open jar of peanut butter on the floor next to my chair. “Pregnant.” I rubbed my belly. “I get tired. And hungry.”

  Chris pecked me on the temple then strode over to dispatch the evidence. “Now she knows how I feel.”

  I turned to his mother and my brain got stuck again. What do I call her? “Mrs. Penman, it’s very lovely to meet you.”

  Her eyebrows arched as she appraised me with her twinkly hazel eyes, lips held firmly in a straight line like a schoolmarm. I was half expecting her to tell Chris he’d made a terrible mistake, that I would never do, but then her expression softened, she cocked her head and smiled. “Dear. Please. Call me Harriet.” She stepped closer and took my hand, giving off a distinct aroma of whiskey and White Shoulders. Her skin was crinkled and pale, the back of her hands dotted with liver spots. “Christopher’s sister Alice is very sorry she couldn’t make it. Her youngest has been ill and you’ll learn soon enough. It’s difficult for a mother to go anywhere when she has a sick child at home.”

  “Mum, Claire already has a daughter.” Chris placed his hand on her shoulder. “Samantha. Remember? I’ve told you about her over the phone several times. She’ll be home from school any minute now.”

  Harriet let go of my hand and clutched her purse to her waist. “I do my best to remember these things, but I occasionally forget.” She cleared her throat.

  “It’s okay, Mum,” Kate said. “There’s a lot to remember.” She eyed me, forcing a smile.

  “I’d like to get rid of this spoon,” Chris said. “You two must be thirsty. The kitchen is right in here.”

  I grabbed Chris’s arm to get him to hang back. “I’m mortified.”

  “It wasn’t your most graceful moment, but don’t worry about it.” He looked down at me so lovingly. It made my heart flutter. “She’s half in the bag right now anyway. She’s terrified of flying, so she self-medicates.”

  We joined them in the kitchen, where Harriet had taken a seat at the new table in the breakfast area. Kate stood.

  “Spot of tea, ladies?” Chris asked. It was certainly the proper British thing to do, but I’d never once seen Chris make or drink tea. He was a coffee drinker through-and-through.

  “That would be lovely, Christopher.” Harriet began to rifle through her black leather purse.

  “So, Claire,” Kate said. “Is this your second marriage?”

  Well, then. Let’s get right to it.

  Chris filled the teapot seemingly taking no note of the tone his sister had taken with me.

  “No, this will be my first.” I pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “Please, why don’t you have a seat?” I went to the cabinet and found a box of crispy brown-sugar cookies my father had bought.

  Kate sat, eyes following my every move. “I see. So, what happened to your daughter’s father?”

  Chris took the box of cookies from me and arranged them on a plate, again not indicating that he was aware of any tension at all in the room.

  She’s vetting me. Chris told me his sisters hated Elise. She thinks I’m going to be just as bad. “We never married. It’s been me and Samantha all these years.”

  “Until I came along and broke up the girls’ party,” Chris chimed in. He placed a cup of tea before his mum and returned to the counter for Kate’s.

  Kate perked up. “Just like at home, huh, Chrissy? You and the girls.”

  Chrissy?

  Chris laughed. “Oh, now, don’t go calling me that. I’ll never live it down.”

  “Don’t expect him to be much help, Claire,” Kate said. “Alice and I did everything for him when he was growing up and the rock star thing didn’t equip him to be any good at lulling babies to sleep or changing diapers.”

  I pursed my lips. It’s true he didn’t know what a mattress pad was.

  “Now, now.” Chris rubbed Kate’s shoulders, smiling in a way that said she was just joking around as far as he was concerned. “I’m a grown up. I’m not completely helpless.”

  “Just don’t count on too much, Claire.” Kate looked up and smiled at Chris adoringly. “I’m sure he’ll do his best.”

  * * *

  My sister Julie and her husband Matt had arrived late that night, as well as Graham and Angie and the entire Banks Forest entourage, wives and girlfriends included. They all stayed up late, drinking, entertained mostly by Graham. My tee-totaling pregnant self went to bed early.

  Julie was a little hung over the next day, definitely off her game.

  “Ouch.” My hand flew to the stinging nape of my neck, where she’d just burned me with the curling iron. "Jules, I'm getting married. How about you don't burn my skin off?"

  “Stop moving around so much,” she snipped.

  She’s still pissed that I didn’t make her maid of honor. I watched Julie’s reflection in the mirror as she wound another section of my hair around the curling iron barrel. Perhaps it was dehydration from drinking, but she seemed to be showing her age more now. We may have spent much of our lives at odds with each other, but I still didn’t enjoy seeing her that way. “Catch me up on what’s happening at home. Everything good with your job?”

  “Things are fine with me. Matt is the one I’m worried about.” She let the curling iron go and a mostly perfect spiral bounced into place on the side of my head. “They’re announcing another round of layoffs in the next few weeks. He feels like he just barely squeaked through on the last one.”

  “Did you have a good time hanging out with dad this morning?” I’d been waiting for a report, but she hadn’t yet offered one.

  She shrugged. “Sure. Although, I have to tell you, I don’t know what you’re talking about with him being confused. He seemed sharp as a tack to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Same old Dad.”

  You didn’t see him eating out of Splenda packets. “It comes and goes. Some times he’s fine and the next minute he’s really forgetful.”

  She made eye contact with me in the mirror. “You got him to go to the doctor, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Blood w
ork and everything turned out just fine. The doctor said he was healthy.”

  “See? I’m sure he’s fine. You worry too much. You always have.”

  Somebody has to worry, don’t they? “I don’t really see what’s so bad about worrying.”

  “I’m sure that Dad’s forgetfulness is probably nothing more than old age. He’s in his seventies. At some point, we’ll have to start talking about the long-term for him.”

  I couldn’t see the long-term anything right now. The stuff going on ten feet in front of my face was plenty to deal with. “He’s happy living here in Chapel Hill. I was thinking he should just sell the house in Asheville and move here. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about him so much.”

  She placed her hand on her hip, this time looking me directly in the eye. “You want Dad to live here.” She looped her finger in the air. “Close to you. When he drives you crazy.”

  I frowned. “He doesn’t drive me that crazy. And we were thinking that he would live in my old house. We just have to persuade him to move back there.”

  “When he’s convinced you’re trying to set him up with the lady who lives next door?”

  “He needs to get over that. Chris gave up on that weeks ago.”

  Julie combed through another section of my hair, returning to the task at hand, just as Samantha joined us. “Hey guys, you almost ready? Everybody’s here.”

  “A few more minutes. Your mom’s hair needs to be perfect.” Julie sprung another curl from the grip of the curling iron.

  Sam hopped up on to the bathroom vanity. The knee-length black dress she’d chosen was adorable as was the white flower she’d put in her hair. “You look amazing, Mom. Chris is going to love it.” She kicked her feet, her black high-top-sneaker-wearing feet.

  “So you went with the Converse after all.” At least she’d skipped the knee socks.

  “Yeah. All of my other black shoes are ugly.” She stuck out her leg and turned her foot back and forth. “You can’t deny that the Chuck Taylors are classics.”

  “Indeed. I can’t.”

  “Sam,” Julie started, “Are you getting excited for the baby? You're going to be a big sister. Pretty cool, huh?"