Always (Spiral of Bliss #7)

by Nina Lane

  “Go on and sit down,” Claire tells him. “We’re ready to eat.”

  Much as I appreciate her help, I don’t like having a family dinner without Liv. Hell, I don’t even like being in the house without my wife. But Claire keeps the kids entertained with stories about the pranks she used to pull on her younger brother, which at least keeps them distracted from their mother’s absence.

  After dinner, she and I clean the kitchen. She comes up beside me, leaning over to put empty plates in the sink.

  “I thought I’d take the kids out for dessert,” she says. “Would that be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “You should come with us,” she suggests. “I know it’s been a rough day for you.”

  “I have a few papers I need to finish grading.” I toss the dishtowel on the counter. “Hold on, I’ll get you some cash.”

  I get my wallet from my suit jacket and give her a twenty. She goes to announce the outing to the kids.

  “Dad, come on,” Nicholas says, tugging at my hand. “Please come with us.”

  The request coming from my son isn’t one I can refuse. We get the kids bundled into their coats before heading out to the car. I drive to the Boxcar Deli, an old favorite with its many varieties of homemade pie.

  “Can I have extra ice cream with mine?” Nicholas asks the teenaged waitress, who responds with a smile.

  “If your mom says it’s okay, then yes.” She looks expectantly at Claire, whose mouth opens in surprise.

  “She’s not my mom,” Nicholas says, rolling his eyes as if that fact should be obvious.

  “Mommy has owie,” Bella announces.

  “Oh, sorry.” The waitress blushes and looks at me with apology. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “It’s okay.” I shake my head dismissively. “He can have extra ice cream.”

  “Yay!” Nicholas cheers and pumps his fists in the air.

  “Me too,” Bella says.

  “You too, Snowbell,” I agree.

  The waitress scribbles down the request and mumbles that she’ll be back soon with our orders. After she’s gone, Claire looks at me and laughs.

  “That was weird,” she remarks.

  I shrug and turn my attention to helping Bella take the wrapping off her straw.

  “So how long have you and Liv been married?” Claire asks.

  “Ten years this July. Staying together for life.”

  “Nice. That’s not something you hear very often. Where did you meet?”

  “The University of Wisconsin.” I’m not sure why I don’t want to discuss Liv with this young woman who is helping take care of my children.

  But I don’t.

  “Were you both working there?” Claire asks.

  “I was a visiting professor,” I explain. “She was a student.”

  “Oh.” Claire looks somewhat surprised. “Well, that sounds romantic.”

  It was. Always will be.

  “Uncle Archer!” Nicholas suddenly knocks on the window and waves.

  I follow his gaze to where Archer and Kelsey are crossing the street, both carrying shopping bags and holding hands. Relieved, I gesture for them to come in.

  Archer makes a face at Nicholas as they approach the front door. I get up to give Kelsey my seat and pull a couple of chairs over to the booth.

  “Where are you guys headed?” I ask.

  “Just out Christmas shopping.” Kelsey unwinds her scarf and sits down, squeezing my arm in silent commiseration. “I went to see Liv earlier. She looks good and says she feels pretty good too. Hopefully the recovery won’t be too bad.”

  Though her tone is casual—for Nicholas and Bella’s sake, I know—I see the concern in her eyes, the dismay over the news that the cancer has spread to Liv’s lymph nodes.

  “She’ll be home tomorrow,” I say.

  I can’t wait. I want her home now.

  “The waitress thought Claire was our mom,” Nicholas tells Archer with a snort of derision.

  “That’s just silly,” Archer remarks, then glances at Claire. “Uh, no offense.”

  “None taken,” she replies. “I guess it was an easy mistake to make. Dean was just telling me about how he and Liv met. Ten years of marriage is an amazing thing.”

  “And they got married at a villa in the south of France,” Kelsey says.

  “We could do that,” Archer suggests.

  “Are you getting married?” Claire asks.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Archer and Kelsey both speak at the same time, then exchange glances that are amused and challenging. Claire looks confused.

  “Long story,” I tell her.

  “You should not get married,” Nicholas tells Archer. “Then you’d have to kiss.”

  “Ew,” Bella agrees, returning her attention to coloring her placemat.

  “Dude, one day you’ll like kissing.” Archer rubs his knuckles over Nicholas’s head.

  Nicholas doesn’t look convinced. The waitress reappears to take Kelsey and Archer’s orders, then returns with a tray filled with slices of apple pie and cherry pie.

  After eating and talking about Christmas plans, Nicholas and Bella ask for quarters to put in the toy machines at the front of the deli. I give them some coins, and Kelsey goes with them to operate the machines.

  “Hey, if you need me over winter break, I’ll be around,” Claire tells me, as I pull some cash from my wallet to pay the bill. “I used to spend Christmas with my boyfriend’s family in Chicago, but we broke up over the summer so I’m staying here.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know.”

  Claire slides out of the booth and goes to join the kids and Kelsey. Archer glances at me as he shrugs back into his coat.

  “Watch out for her, man,” he mutters.

  “What?”

  “That one.” Archer tilts his head to where Claire is putting a quarter into a machine. “She’s got something for you.”

  I stare at him. “The fuck? We hired her because Liv has cancer.”

  The word burns my throat like battery acid.

  “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t,” I snap. “That’s fucked up.”

  Archer shakes his head. “Man, people can be fucked up. You know that as well as I do.”

  A humorless laugh breaks out of me. Yeah, I do know that. We both learned that lesson when we were too young.

  But this?

  No way. I can’t believe something like that. I won’t.

  I go to corral the kids and get them zipped back into their coats. As we walk to the door, Kelsey takes my arm and tugs, slowing me down and letting the others move ahead.

  “Did you hear anything else from the doctor?” she asks in a low voice.

  I shake my head. “We won’t have the pathology results for at least another week, if not longer because of the holidays. Christ, Kelsey…the original biopsy showed it was early stage, but the fucking thing has spread.”

  What if it’s worse than they think? What if it’s in her chest, her lungs, her bones…

  Terror claws at my insides. Kelsey tightens her grip on my arm.

  “Dean—”

  I can’t stand to hear any words of consolation or reassurance because there are none.

  I pull away from her and walk to the door. Outside it’s starting to snow, soft flakes collecting on the trees and pavement, multicolored lights draped all along the street. If Liv were here, she’d suggest we take a walk to look at the holiday decorations in the store windows.

  Bella is half a block away, her gloved hand in Claire’s, every other step punctuated by a happy little skip. Overhead, the stars shine bright and cold, like knife points in the pitch-black sky.

  Chapter 25

  Olivia

  December 23

  “Perfect.” Claire steps back from the table to admire the candies Nicholas has perched on the roof of his gingerbread house. “Now you can use the coconut as snow.”

&
nbsp; I reach automatically for the bag of shredded coconut. Pain twinges down my side. I drop the bag and lower my arm.

  “I’ll get it.” Claire pours the coconut into a bowl for Bella and Nicholas.

  “Frosting!” Bella says, holding up her finger smeared with a glob of green. “Can I eat it?”

  I’m about to say yes when Claire says, “No, your fingers might be all germy.”

  She picks up a napkin and wipes Bella’s finger, then turns to help Nicholas spread the coconut around his gingerbread house. I push to my feet and go upstairs to the bathroom, where a clutter of pill bottles sits in the medicine cabinet.

  As I take a couple of ibuprofen, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I don’t look good. My skin is pale like parchment, dark circles ring my eyes, and my hair is limp since I haven’t been able to wash it very well without lifting my arm.

  I unbutton my shirt slowly to reveal the front-closure sports bra I’ve been wearing since the surgery a few days ago. I unfasten it to look at my breasts for the hundredth time. There’s a half-moon-shaped incision on the side of my breast, another under my armpit, and an indentation that the doctor assured me will “fill in” with time.

  I’m oddly obsessed with staring at my breasts. They almost don’t look like they belong to me anymore. There’s a strange numbness at the site of the excision. I struggle with the idea that my breasts were once a source of pleasure.

  I turn away from the mirror and change into a clean sports bra and button-up shirt. I go back downstairs, hearing Dean’s and Claire’s voices coming from the kitchen. He’s by the table, holding Bella’s hands as she stands on his feet.

  “…with graham crackers and chocolate kisses,” Claire is saying. “Oh, Liv, I was wondering if you wanted me to make chicken parmesan for dinner? I bought all the ingredients yesterday, but I didn’t know if you felt like eating.”

  “That sounds good. Thanks.”

  “We can also decorate the Christmas cookies tonight,” Dean suggests.

  “Yes!” Bella says. “I decorate reindeer?”

  “Sure you can, Snowbell.” Dean takes a few steps backward and forward as Bella balances on his feet. He glances at me. “You need anything?”

  I shake my head and sit down at the table. Physically, the recovery has not been that bad, but I feel as if horrible insects are buzzing around my emotions. Wasps, flies, and mosquitoes. Biting and stinging.

  To avoid snapping or being cranky with Bella and Nicholas, I’ve tried to stay quiet, to not think too hard about the details of the pathology reports to come, or the future doctor’s appointments I’ll need.

  Because the cancer has spread.

  “Ta da!” Claire gestures to Nicholas’s gingerbread house with a flourish. “Behold the witch’s gingerbread house.”

  I swallow past the tightness in my throat and admire what Claire and Nicholas have created—a cottage with a rock-candy chimney, gumdrop walls, and a pretzel gate.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell them.

  “Looks good enough to eat,” Dean adds.

  “And I managed to keep the candy intake to a minimum, so they’ll eat dinner,” Claire says, reaching out to rub Nicholas’s hair.

  I expect him to pull away—while he’s accepted Claire, he’s not affectionate with her—but he only smiles proudly.

  “After we clean up, I’ll get dinner started,” Claire says as she starts to pick up the bowls of leftover candy.

  “I’ll help.” Dean eases Bella off his feet, twirling her around like a dancer.

  I experience an irrational stab of irritation toward him. Since I returned home, he’s been a model of husbandly perfection—taking care of the children, putting up Christmas decorations, doing the laundry, grocery shopping, always asking if there’s anything I want or need.

  But there’s still a distance between us I don’t know how to breach. I don’t even know where it’s coming from. Why aren’t we strengthening each other? Why does Dean’s solicitousness feel like a wall of reserve, as if he’s a polite waiter rather than my husband?

  “Hey, sweetie, come here.” I hold my good arm out to my daughter. “Want to read a book?”

  She approaches to let me pull her against my side. We sit on the sofa and read a couple of Dr. Seuss books, while I attempt not to be bothered by the fact that another woman is cooking dinner for my family in my kitchen.

  I glance at Claire. She’s standing by the counter, talking to Dean, her arms lifted as she ties her hair into a ponytail. She’s wearing jeans and a close-fitting T-shirt, and her raised arms push her breasts out. Her round, young, perky breasts that enhance her slender figure.

  She laughs at something Dean says, then bends to take a pot out of the lower cupboard, her ponytail swinging behind her.

  “Oof, Mommy, I’m stuck.” Bella wiggles in my grasp, and I realize I’m holding her tightly against my right side.

  I relax my grip and take a breath. She scoots off the sofa and wanders over to where a few of her stuffed animals are arranged on another chair.

  I look at my beautiful daughter, hear my beautiful son asking if there will be dessert, remember all my beautiful husband has done.

  I’m lucky. I know that. But I’m starting to lose my grip on what I have.

  What if I can’t hold on? Then what happens?

  “Come on, Liv, it’s a brand-new restaurant,” Archer says. “You gotta come with us. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve.”

  “It’s a pretty cool place,” Dean agrees, holding out my coat. “And it’ll cheer you up, I promise.”

  I glance at Kelsey, who nods with encouragement. And though I don’t much feel like going out, I know Bella and Nicholas will enjoy a special treat. Maybe I will too.

  After bundling up, we drive to a glass-fronted dessert restaurant called the Chocolate Tree. The interior has opulent gold-and-brown décor with plush booths and chocolate-themed artwork, not to mention a menu filled with chocolate drinks and desserts. We sit in a booth and peruse the menu, then order hot cocoa and slices of butter cake.

  Dean, of course, is right—the thick, rich cocoa combined with Nicholas and Bella’s delight, and Archer and Dean talking about the upcoming ski season, all conspire to ease the sadness that has hung over me since the surgery.

  “Um, excuse me?” says a female voice.

  We look up at the three teenaged girls who are standing bunched together beside the table, looking both nervous and excited. One of them nudges another.

  “Hi.” Girl #1, a cute brunette, gives Archer a little wave. “Um, sorry to bother you, but we were just sitting over there, and we’re huge fans of Storm Hunters.”

  “Huge,” adds Girl #2, not taking her eyes off him.

  “Yeah, so we were just wondering if, like, we could get an autograph and maybe a picture?” Girl #1 asks.

  Girl #3 giggles. Dean and I exchange smiles.

  “Sure you can.” Archer pushes his chair back and stands. The girls step back and look up at him in awe.

  “What are your names?” he asks.

  They just stare. Kelsey snorts.

  “I’m…I’m Jenna.” Girl #2 digs into her purse for a pen and paper. “It is just so cool to meet you. I mean, what you did for that poor dog…”

  “It was totally epic,” Girl #1 adds. “We’ve watched the video, like, a thousand times.”

  Girl #3 giggles again.

  Archer, clearly having warmed to his celebrity status, signs his name on scraps of paper they produce from their little purses, asks them their grade levels and favorite subjects, answers their questions about Storm Hunters, and then poses for a few pictures.

  “Let me take some of all of you,” Dean offers generously, standing to borrow the girls’ cell phones.

  The girls smile and blush their way through a series of photos before Archer makes their entire year by giving them each a hug. They back toward the door, their rapt gazes still on him.

  “It was so great to meet you,” Girl #1 says breathles
sly. “Thank you so much.”

  “Yeah, you’re really awesome,” Girl #2 agrees. “We can’t wait for the next season to start.”

  Girl #3 giggles.

  “Oh, wow.” Girl #1 glances at the table, her gaze zeroing in on Kelsey. “You’re Professor March.”

  “I am.”

  “Would you like a picture with her too?” I ask the girls.

  “No, thanks.”

  Girl #2 puts her phone back into her purse, and the three of them turn away from Kelsey with little huffs, in what the Victorians would have termed a cut direct.

  The girls wave at Archer again and leave the restaurant on a rush of winter air. He sits back down, looking rather smug and pleased with himself.

  “What was their problem?” Nicholas scoops melted whipped cream onto his spoon.

  “A misguided case of fangirling,” Kelsey mutters.

  “What’s fangirling?”

  “It’s like a bad rash,” she explains.

  Archer grins at her. “You want a selfie with me, lady? Because you’ll have to get in line.”

  “No, thanks. I’m thinking of selling some of your photos to the tabloids, though.” She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Might be worth something.”

  “Hey, Mom, can we go do those machines?” Nicholas, his face smeared with chocolate, waves toward the vintage penny arcade games at the back of the restaurant.

  “Sure.” I dig into my purse and produce a few quarters.

  Dean and Archer follow the kids as Kelsey and I finish our cocoa and cake. She sits back in her chair, nodding toward my husband.

  “How’s he handling it?”

  “The way Dean does.”

  She levels her perceptive blue stare on me. “And you?”

  I shrug. How do I handle challenges? I used to let Dean deal with them, until I learned how to stand on my own. To face what life threw at me, at us, and to realize that sometimes I need to be the strong one.

  “I think I need some new big girl panties,” I tell Kelsey.

  “You have plenty of big girl panties,” she replies. “You just had to discover for yourself that you’ve been wearing them all along.”