Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)

by Andrea Randall

  “How do you do that?” I ask him through voice-shaking tears.

  “What?” He shrugs.

  “You know what prayers to say and when to say them and they fucking make me feel better.” I force a frustrated laugh.

  Josh chuckles. “Ah, Ember...it’s just always been a part of my life. It’s really important right now. I don’t know what else to do.” Sweet desperation flows through his eyes. Monica comes out and hands Josh coffee as he hands mine back to me.

  “You’re marrying a good man, Monica. A really good man.”

  “I know.” She beams and kisses him. “Ainsley’s here?”

  “Shit, I forgot.” As always, like she can hear my thoughts, Ainsley stalks toward the porch. I gulp a fair bit of coffee and straighten my posture.

  “November.” Ainsley nods at me, and I notice David narrow his eyes behind her. She’s as put together as ever, with the exception of no makeup. Her puffy eyes prove she’s spent some time crying, but her gorgeous ensemble prevents me from feeling bad. It annoys me. Everything about her annoys me.

  “It’s early, Ainsley. Bo’s asleep inside. If you want, when he wakes up I can te -”

  “I’ll wait here,” she cuts me off and shows herself to the porch swing. I shrug, uninterested in another go ‘round with Ainsley Worthington.

  An hour later, David’s gone to the funeral home and Regan steps outside, rubbing his arms like he’s cold, but it’s already over seventy degrees. Ainsley prances to his side and gives him a hug as if she knows who he is and what Rae meant to him. As if she has rights inside his grief. Regan’s a class act, however, and returns her condolences with some of his own. Ainsley has known Rae longer than any of us on the porch, after all.

  “Is Bo up?” Ainsley asks Regan, her hand on the door. I roll my eyes; Josh catches me and grins.

  “He’s in the bathroom, I think.” He shrugs and sits next to me, not giving her any more information.

  Just as she turns the knob, Ainsley lets out a surprised gasp as Bo pulls the door the rest of the way open and walks barefoot onto the porch. He’s showered and changed his clothes from yesterday, now wearing baggy grey sweatpants that cling to life on his jutting hips, and no shirt. Ainsley lets out a cry and throws her arms around his neck. I look over my shoulder and see him pat her back while looking painfully at me. I stand and make my way down the stairs, needing a little space between me and the blonde pixie. It’s not the time for pettiness, and I need a breather.

  “Ember, you’re not leaving, are you?” Bo’s voice takes on an exhausted panic.

  “No,” I turn and smile, “just taking a little walk. I’ll be right back.” I lock eyes with Ainsley for a second before turning back down the driveway.

  I turn left and head through a wooded part of the property, until I reach a small clearing that holds a hammock next to a still pond. I collapse on the hammock and beg my body to cry it out; it swings back and forth with each released wail, and rocks me to sleep.

  * * *

  “Ember.” Monica’s whisper pulls me from a deep sleep, and I have to squint the blinding sun away.

  “How long have I been asleep?” I carefully balance my elbows on the hammock’s netting and swing my legs off the side.

  “Like two hours, I guess. Bo was looking for you after Ainsley left. I’m so, so sorry, Ember.” Monica breaks into a full cry. This is the first time we’ve been alone. “Did you ever meet with Bo at Tarryn’s last night, or did this all happen before?”

  My God, was this all just yesterday?

  I fill Monica in with a timeline of my night before Bo comes through the trees.

  “We’re going to take Regan home to get clothes and a good night sleep before the funeral tomorrow.” Monica stands up, brushing herself off. “Want me to bring you clothes?”

  I look nervously to Bo, under Monica’s assumption that I’ll be staying here. I hope to.

  “Bo, is it OK if—”

  He nods and wraps his arms around me, silencing the rest of my sentence. Monica rubs my back, signaling her departure. Bo sweeps open the curtained branches of a weeping willow and rests his back against the tree; I follow and sit next to him.

  “This spot is gorgeous, Bo. So peaceful.” An old habit takes over and I mindlessly rest my head on his shoulder.

  “It’s Rae’s favorite...or was ...” I slide my head to his bare chest as he kisses the top of my head. Bo runs his thumb over the hump of my shoulder and slowly drags it across my collarbone. “Are you OK?”

  I look up. “What do you mean, am I OK?”

  Bo squares my shoulders in his hands. “Your collarbone never stuck out like this; you’ve lost a lot of weight, Ember.” He rolls his thumbs over my collarbone to accentuate his point.

  “I’m fine, Bo.” I furrow my brow at his bizarre topic of choice given the circumstances.

  He gives me a concerned once-over before welcoming me back into a one-armed embrace. I replace my head on his shoulder before he starts speaking in a distant tone, still tracing my shoulders with his thumbs.

  “Did you call Adrian?”

  “No.” I honestly haven’t thought about it, though I suppose someone ought to. As tired as I am, I’m actually hoping he heard it on the news.

  “Why not?” Bo sounds surprised, and suddenly, it occurs to me.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug, “I guess when he told me he never wanted to see me again, I assumed that included phone calls.” With my ear pressed against his warm skin, I feel Bo’s heart rate pick up.

  “He said that to you?” I nod and shrug once more. I simply don’t care about Adrian Turner right now.

  “What happened?” Bo asks, but we’re interrupted by the sound of branches breaking beneath someone’s feet.

  “Here you two are.” David enters our fort and squats in front of us with a light grin on his face. “Spencer, the funeral home is all set for tomorrow. Josh left some notes here for scripture suggestions.”

  “Whatever you think is best, David.” Bo lifts his arm from my shoulders and rubs his eyes with a sigh.

  Standing, I stretch my arms overhead. “David, I’ll walk back to the house and take a look at Josh’s notes with you. I don’t think I’ve ever actually opened a Bible, but...Bo, why don’t you just hang out here, and I’ll come find you when I make lunch, OK?” Bo doesn’t argue; he lets his head tilt back against the weeping willow and he closes his eyes.

  Once back on the driveway facing the house, David takes my hand.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, November.” The shaking of his hand makes me turn my head. He has tears streaming down his face.

  “David, I’m so sorry.” I stop and pull my hand away to give him a hug.

  “I thought losing Spencer and Vivian was the absolute worst thing that could have happened to those kids,” David speaks as we enter the house.

  “This is so fucking unreal, excuse my language. In case anyone happens to ask, I put all of Rae’s stuff in her bedroom before Bo came in last night. I can’t believe the funeral’s already tomorrow ...” I know I’m rambling, but David doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Well, the family from California’s on a flight out here as we speak, and everyone else is here. Spencer doesn’t want to do a wake, just the funeral service.”

  “Where’s the cemetery? I don’t even know...why didn’t I ever ask him?”

  “Ah,” David comes up behind me and gives my shoulders a playful squeeze, “you two were busy falling in love.” He says it like we never stopped.

  I never did.

  * * *

  When the sun finally sets on the first day she’s gone, the readings, the music, and all other arrangements are set for Rae’s funeral. I haven’t seen much of Bo since lunch by the pond. Family from California have come and gone to their respective hotels. I’ve just spent the evening organizing food donations in the refrigerator and freezer. When the last of the dishes are put away and the counters are wiped clean, I dry my hands and turn for the living roo
m; Bo’s figure in the doorway startles me.

  “Jesus!” I scream, my fatigue causing me to be jumpier than usual.

  “Sorry.” He lets the fleetest of grins escape his mouth. “Thank you for taking care of all of this, Ember.” Bo gestures across the kitchen.

  “Of course. You should go get some sleep, if you can. I have no idea how tomorrow will be, but sleep can’t hurt.” I walk toward him and pick a piece of string off his shirt.

  He grabs my hand and holds it to his lips. My eyes follow the length of my arm, up my fingertips, where I stare at his lips as they press against my skin.

  His lips tingle against my knuckles as he talks, his eyes closed. “Thank you for staying tonight.”

  “You need to stop thanking me, Bo,” I whisper because, without realizing it, my mouth’s run dry under his touch.

  Dropping my hand, Bo reaches for my face. New emotion fills his recently void eyes; intention bleeds through his gaze. With his free hand, he brushes my hair away from my shoulders before leaning down and stroking my neck with his nose, making a home for his lips just beneath my jaw. He has to feel my goosebumps beneath his lips.

  “Will you come up with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The morning of the funeral is slow chaos. I’m showered and ready for whatever I’m supposed to do before Bo wakes up. He passed out with his head on my chest last night. I was awake most of the night, listening to him breathe. David arrived at the house early to help manage the people who are using the Cavanaugh residence as a staging area. They all mean well, these people I’ve never seen or heard of before. It makes me feel like an outsider that they all know Bo and Rae so well. Some of the older ones call him Spencer, like David does. I chuckle a little at how pissed I was the first day he showed up at my office using that name.

  David catches me alone, staring out a living room window. “How are you doing, Sweetheart?”

  His warm embrace really does feel like a father’s, and it makes me miss mine. My stomach sinks as I realize I haven’t called my parents.

  “My parents are out of town, and I totally forgot to call them.” David lets go as I walk outside, my cellphone shaking between my fingers.

  My dad answers my mom’s phone and I’m reduced to tears. “Hey Baby Blue! Your mother and I were just talking about you. Sweetie? Are you OK?” He can hear my sobs.

  “It’s Rae...Bo’s sister...She died—” It’s the first time I’ve said “she died.”

  I stumble my way through the details when, in a salty haze of tears, I spot Monica’s car crawling up the driveway.

  “I’ve gotta go, Dad. Please tell Mom ...”

  “Of course, Honey. I wish there was something I could do. I hate that you’re hurting like this.”

  I hang up and let my phone slide out of my hands and tumble down the stairs. Monica stares at it for a second before shrugging and sitting next to me. She combs her fingers through my air-dried waves.

  “Want me to straighten this for you? Here are your clothes, by the way. I picked that black seersucker you never wear, that way you don’t have to wear it ever again.”

  “Thanks. Where’s Regan?”

  “He’s riding with C.J. and Josh and they’re going right to the church. He spent last night packing his things, says he’s going back to Ireland on Wednesday.” She looks to the ground.

  I raise my brows. “Seriously? He’s going to just take off?”

  “Can you blame him? What else is holding him here? He was only planning to stay through August anyway, now that his girlfriend is ...”

  I shake my head and stand. “You’re right. If it had been Bo, I don’t know what I would have—”

  “I know.” She hooks her arm around my waist and walks us into the house.

  David Bryson has floated in and out for the last forty-eight hours, and we find him busying himself in the kitchen. The sound and smell of frying bacon fills the house and Monica helps herself to a plate.

  “That smells delicious.” She sits at the table and digs in.

  “Thank you. Ember, would you like some?”

  Monica snorts.

  “She’s a vegetarian,” Bo chimes in from behind me.

  David shakes his head, mumbling something about “hippies” before turning his attention back to the bacon.

  “There you are. You slept heavy last night.” I stick out my hand to catch an apple Bo tosses from the refrigerator. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for staying.” His tone is flat and, if I didn’t know the situation, I’d say it sounded sarcastic.

  Bo pulls away from the fridge and I watch him in silence. His grey suit matches the look on his face, and his mechanical movements catch my breath. This is what it looks like when someone is actually “going through the motions.”

  Pour coffee.

  Pour creamer.

  Stir.

  Sip.

  Look around.

  “You know,” he starts, looking at the three of us gathered around the table, “today will go a lot smoother for me if you all stop staring at me like I’m a bomb.” His half-empty coffee mug crashes into the sink and he storms out of the room. Monica and I stare at each other, her fork mid-air.

  “It’s OK, girls,” David says softly. “He’s going to feel a wide range of emotions for a long time. Stick with him.”

  * * *

  Monica finishes my hair, and when I’m finally dressed, we head downstairs. I don’t trust my tears today, so I’ve opted for no makeup. Monica receives a text from Josh saying David and Bo are at the church. It almost bugs me they didn’t tell us they were leaving, until I realize David may have wanted some one-on-one time with Bo. Maybe Bo needed to be alone.

  “You slept together last night?” Monica asks as she turns onto the main road.

  “Not like that. He said he didn’t want to be alone ...” I close my eyes and remember the feel of his hair through my fingers, as I lay awake.

  As we come upon the First Congregational Church, the sheer number of people present overwhelms me. Traffic is being directed by a lone police officer in black cotton gloves. It’s just like W.H. Auden wrote it, and I really wonder if anything can ever come to any good in a world that no longer holds Rachel Cavanaugh.

  We park a block away and walk quickly to the church. It seems weird, having a funeral in the middle of summer on a gorgeous eighty-degree day. I picture all funerals happening in winter; grey skies, people bundled in black pea coats burying their faces in their scarves. No, today there isn’t anywhere to hide our sorrows. I should have worn yellow or something, I realize too late as we file up the church steps like ants. Rae would have liked color.

  I bob my head up and down and side-to-side trying to spot Bo, as we make our way down the center aisle of the church. I see him in the front row, but the pearl necklace sitting next to him stops me in my tracks. Ainsley’s perched directly between Bo and Regan. Before irritation takes over, I grin and lead my eyes upward, sharing a laugh with Rae over her choice of jewelry. Two rows behind Bo and what appears to be family, Josh flags us down. We slide into the row, acknowledging uneasy condolences from C.J. before the service begins.

  The prayers and hymns are lovely, yet lonely. Although I’ve only been in a church once, I recognize “Amazing Grace” as “The Weeping Song” and when it’s sung, I sink into the pew and bury my forehead in my hands. C.J. sits next to me and tries to suffocate the shaking of my shoulders. When it’s over, the final song plays and the casket is positioned to glide out of the church with family behind it. Bo rises. David and Ainsley each try to stand and walk out of the pew with him, but he waves them off.

  The congregation stands as Bo starts down the aisle. For the first time since we went to bed last night, Bo’s eyes connect with mine just before he reaches my row. Time stops its sovereign march for a moment, and lets us take a breath in each other. Before his chin quivers a second time, I push past Monica and Josh and root myself at his side. Grabb
ing his hand, I give it a slight squeeze before he interlaces his fingers with mine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what people thought of me—a girl most of them don’t know, escorting their lost son out of the church behind his dead sister.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The house is empty again. After the mourners, and the hugs, and the casseroles, everyone’s journeying back to their lives. Regan sat with Bo in the backyard most of the afternoon, while I continued arranging food. I plainly told Carrie that I’d be taking the week off, and she didn’t argue. I’ve never taken care of anyone but myself before, and it’s taken completely over; I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. I begged Regan not to leave the country without saying goodbye, but I know he will. I would too.

  When the last of the dishes are put away and I’m sure Bo has passed out from emotional exhaustion somewhere, I slide out of my heels and press my sore feet onto the cold tile floor. I sigh, wincing on my exhale, as my aching shoulders feel the weight of the last two days. It hurts.

  “You’re still here.” Bo’s relieved voice startles me, forcing me to grip the edge of the counter.

  I turn tiredly and find him in the doorway wearing his suit from today—minus the coat and with a loosened tie. His messy dark hair shows how often he ran his hands through it today, and his blue eyes are tired.

  “I promised you I wouldn’t leave. I meant it. Not until you kick me out.” I giggle. He doesn’t.