Falling Into Forever

by Delancey Stewart

  I dug and pulled and sweated most of the afternoon away, and when I was close to finishing up, I was rewarded when I found two rose bushes still holding fast in the damp soil. They’d been overgrown and hidden in vines, but they were still there, and I thought maybe there was enough of them left to thrive.

  Something about seeing them still there, still fighting for sun and air, gave me hope. We can all come back from hardship. And even if we think our lives might be one way, it might turn out they’ll be even better if we just hang on and open ourselves to alternatives.

  “What are you up to out here?” A familiar voice came across the lawn, and my stomach gave a little jump. Michael.

  “Just trying to clear out some of the weeds out here,” I told him.

  “It’s looking good,” he said, striding across the lawn and coming to stand next to where I was kneeling.

  I stood, letting out an accidental groan like a much older woman, and wiping my dirty palms over my jeans. “I’ve been crouching all day long,” I said, stretching.

  “You got a lot done,” he said. “Did you go inside? How are the floors?”

  I’d dropped my things in the kitchen, and then had spent the rest of the day outside. I wasn’t quite ready to admit that I was still scared to be in the house alone, but that was the truth of it.

  “Well, if you’re almost done out here, I brought dinner and a bottle of wine to celebrate a major milestone accomplished.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds good,” I said. It also sounded kind of like a date, but as I considered pointing that out or protesting, I realized the idea actually made me feel warm and giddy. I closed my mouth and smiled. “I might need to clean up a bit before I’m ready for dinner though.”

  “No rush,” Michael said. “By the way, the guys told me you stopped by the store today.”

  “Oh, yeah. I needed the tools.” I wasn’t sure if I should mention that they’d told me to screw off.

  “I apologize for whatever stupidity came out of them.”

  “It’s fine,” I said as we walked together toward the back door of the house.

  “It’s probably not, but it’s nice of you to say so,” Michael said. He glanced at the little garage sitting behind the house and stopped for a minute. “You know, I almost forgot I had this key I found and I wanted to try it on the door over there.” We still hadn’t gotten into the garage, and I had no doubt it would be filled with more stuff we’d have to deal with.

  “Sure,” I said, following him to the door. The structure was so overgrown with vines it was hard to even get to the door, and the windows were blackened and much too dusty to see through.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket and selected the dirty brass one. He wiggled it around a bit, but ultimately stuck the keys back in his pocket. “Doesn’t fit.”

  “We should ask the lawyer about it,” I said. “Maybe he has a key he forgot to give us.”

  “Maybe,” Michael shrugged. “But I think I know why this key doesn’t fit in.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too door key.” He grinned at me, waiting for me to get it.

  “Oh my God, you are the absolute worst.”

  “You love dad jokes.”

  “I do,” I admitted. I loved his dad jokes, at least. It took a willingness to be vulnerable to tell a truly horrible joke, and I liked that Michael was willing to reveal that part of himself to me. It made me feel closer to him.

  We went together into the house, and I took my things upstairs to shower. The newly finished floors gleamed beneath my feet, and the creaking I’d grown used to in the short time I’d been in the house had lessened, since the crew had shored up boards that were loose or damaged. The house was beginning to feel less neglected and spooky, and a little more like a place where I could imagine families once having lived.

  21

  Dorky

  Michael

  I shouldn’t have felt so happy about being back at the house, about seeing Addie again. But in the few days since we’d been away, I found that I missed her, that the few days we’d spent together working side by side had been the closest thing I’d ever had to the kind of home life I’d always wanted. A man and a woman with similar goals, working together. I knew it was a stretch to put us into that little stereotype I had in my head, but I couldn’t really shake the feeling of semi-domestic bliss that I’d had while we’d been together in the house.

  It didn’t hurt that my lawyer had assured me Shelly had no chance at winning a bid for sole custody. I’d spoken to him about my fears and been honest about the situation at the house, and he’d told me that while it would be best if Addie and I maintained separate bedrooms—at least while Daniel was around, there was no real cause for concern.

  So I’d felt like there were a lot of reasons to celebrate as I had come back up the hill to Maple Lane tonight. And when Addie had appeared as I’d come up the garden path, I’d felt a little surge of excitement bubble within me. It might not have been real, and maybe it wasn’t right. But it felt good.

  In the kitchen, I opened the bottle of pinot noir I’d brought, and put together the bulgogi. I set the table with two settings, and brought the old sterling candle holders in from the dining room, where they’d been perched on the mantle over the fireplace. I even managed to find two candles in a kitchen drawer, but then thought better of it. I heard Addison on the stairs as I rushed to take the candles away. I didn’t want to make her think I was expecting anything. This wasn’t a date.

  I picked up the heavy silver bases and turned to carry them back into the dining room, just as Addie appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Mr. Tucker, in the kitchen, with the candlestick!” She said triumphantly.

  “Very funny.”

  “Those are pretty. Were they the ones in the dining room?”

  I nodded and turned back around, placing them on the table again.

  “Good idea,” she said, and when I turned to look at her again, her smile banished all the nervous worry I’d been feeling. I’d forgotten how things were with us. Easy. Comfortable. Natural.

  She smelled like soap, and her hair hung in loose waves around her face, still damp. She wore a soft-looking pumpkin colored sweater and faded jeans, and she had socks on her feet. I wanted to pick her up and snuggle her. I wanted to do much, much more than that.

  “You ready to eat?” I asked her.

  “If we are going to eat whatever it is I smell, then absolutely yes.”

  I poured two glasses of wine and handed her one as she came to sit at the table. I took one myself. “To the house,” I suggested, holding out my globe.

  “To the house,” she said. “And to being out from under Lottie’s scrutiny.” She took a sizable swig and leaned back into the bench behind her, looking relaxed and happy.

  “Was it that bad?” I asked, still standing.

  “No,” she said. “Not really, but it’s just a lot of pressure, you know? To prove that I’m okay, that she did a good job raising me and she can relax now.”

  I thought about that. “I guess I get it. I mean, I can’t imagine ever not worrying about Dan.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “I’m not a parent. I don’t really know how that works.”

  “And I don’t have adult parents still worrying over me, so I guess I don’t know the other side either,” I said. I missed my parents every day, but I’d never really thought about having them worry about me even as an adult. It would be an extra layer of stress.

  I turned back to the stove and served the food on two plates.

  “What in the world is this?” Addie asked, her eyes rounding. “It looks amazing.”

  “It’s a spicy barbecue pork with vegetables and rice. Korean,” I added.

  “And how did you learn to make this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Just thought it sounded good when I read about it, and figured I’d try something different.” I didn’t add that this was my way of traveling since I’d
never gotten a chance to actually do any real travel.

  “Well it looks fantastic.”

  “I’m sure you had a pretty good selection of ethnic food to choose from in New York.”

  She lifted a shoulder, and nodded. “We didn’t really experiment much, though. Luke liked things a certain way. We got into habits, I guess.” She didn’t sound happy about it. I didn’t get it. If Addie was mine, I’d take her anywhere she wanted to go, eat anything she wanted to try.

  We ate in silence for a minute, both of us moving slowly, savoring both the meal and the time we had.

  “I know it’s not my business,” I said. “But I’m sorry about what happened with your relationship. It sounds like he took you for granted.”

  She made a small noise of assent. “I should have seen it a lot earlier. I was complacent, too. Sometimes it’s easier to believe things are the way you want them than to do anything to change them and try to make them what you want.”

  That made sense. And it was true in my life too, maybe.

  “I’m sorry too,” she said. “About the way Shelly treats you. It’s not my business either, but I think you’re a fantastic dad.”

  It was almost embarrassing how good it felt to hear someone say that. I didn’t think anyone ever had, actually. “That’s seriously my only goal.”

  “To be a good dad?”

  “Yeah. It’s the only thing my life is really about. The one thing I have to get right.”

  “Don’t you have to get things right for yourself though, too?” She was holding the big globe of wine aloft, her head tilted to one side and those big dark eyes on my face. I felt seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time—years.

  “Maybe. When I know Dan is grown. Taken care of.”

  “So you are going to let your own happiness take a back seat for another, what, like fifteen years?” Her tone made it clear she didn’t agree with this plan. But of course, Addie didn’t have kids.

  “I owe him that, I think.”

  “I think you owe him a dad who is modeling a full life. Showing him what it looks like to live your fullest, best version of yourself.”

  “I think this is probably the best version of myself I can manage right now.”

  Addie frowned at me, and I felt her disapproval. “Michael,” she said, her voice low and soft, stirring a deep longing inside me. “You deserve to be happy. And Dan wants that for you too.”

  I felt the flush hit my cheeks again, and dropped my eyes as something washed through me—an emotion so overwhelming I worried for a moment I was going to actually break down and cry.

  Fuck, get a grip, Tucker.

  I swallowed hard and sought a reason why her words were having this effect on me. And then it hit me. No one had cared whether I was happy in years. Not since my parents had died. Dan might care—but he was a kid. His job was to be selfish. It was his right for another year or two at least. But Addie’s words made me feel like she actually cared, and I’d felt so alone for so long, it actually had me choked up.

  I covered with another sip of wine and a big bite of pork, and by the time I swallowed, I felt in control of my emotions again.

  We talked about other things then, about the way the weather had begun to turn colder, about trying out some of the fireplaces in the cooling house. About the windows we were having replaced over the next week. And as we cleared the dishes and poured ourselves another glass of wine each, I had an idea.

  “Want to go on a little treasure hunt?” I asked Addie.

  Her eyes lit up and she laughed lightly. “What do you mean?”

  “We have the key I found upstairs,” I reminded her. “And we have no idea what it fits. Let’s hunt.”

  Her lips formed a line and her chin dipped down a little. “Are you going to make a whole bunch more jokes about it being ‘door-key’?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think it was just the one.”

  Addie looked around then, and I thought maybe she was wondering if it might be too spooky to go hunting through the house at night. But already the place had come a long way from the frightening decrepit pit it had been when we’d first come inside. Now it glowed merrily under the warmer bulbs I’d put in, and the floors gleamed underfoot. The dusty smell had been replaced slowly by odors of food and life, and cleaning products. I found myself wanting her to say yes, almost desperate to spend more time together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s hunt.”

  We set off through the house, wine glasses in hand as we went through each room, searching for something we weren’t sure even existed.

  We prowled around the rooms on the first level, stopping to investigate areas we hadn’t paid much attention to before—atop dusty mantles, along window casings and in dark corners, searching even in silly places where there was no chance of a keyhole.

  “I’ve got nothing,” Addie said, shaking her head and grinning at me as we met in the center of the parlor.

  “Me either.” I gazed toward the stairway. “Upstairs?”

  “Let’s go,” she said, striding confidently ahead of me. I tried to keep my gaze from the sway of her hips as she ascended ahead of me, but that was an exercise in futility. Addie was beautiful, head to toe, and her backside was no exception.

  At the landing, we looked around us, seeking anything that might have a keyhole.

  “What if it was like, a safe?” Addie asked. “In the movies, that would be behind a painting or something.”

  “The only thing still hanging on the walls is that mirror in your room,” I said, and we both turned toward the master bedroom.

  There was a large mirror on one wall, in surprisingly good condition, considering the likely age of the thing.

  “It looks heavy,” Addie said doubtfully, putting her wine glass down on the windowsill and then approaching the mirror.

  I followed suit, and wrapped my fingers around the sides of the huge mirror, preparing to lift it off the wall.

  “Be careful,” Addie said.

  “Thanks for that. I was going to be very negligent, but you’ve changed my mind.”

  “Funny.”

  I lifted the mirror and felt it detach from the wall. It was every bit as heavy as it looked. And then some. As I lowered it to the floor, Addie sucked in a breath. “Michael, look!”

  There, hidden behind the old mirror, was a little safe, stuck into the wall. And the keyhole looked like it matched the key I’d found perfectly. I let out a victorious whoop.

  “You do it,” I said, handing Addie the key.

  Her eyes lit up and she took it from me, fitting it carefully into the lock and then turning it, eliciting a satisfying ‘click’ from the mechanism.

  “Yay!” She cried, and if I hadn’t already thought she was cute, I’d be a goner now.

  She pulled the little door open, and looked inside. I stepped up close behind her, peering into the dark little space. A wad of folded papers rested within, along with a small box and an envelope.

  “Shall we?” I reached in and retrieved the items.

  “Let’s look at it in the kitchen,” Addie said, and I reluctantly stepped away from her, the scent of her still in my nose.

  Back at the table with our glasses of wine forgotten in front of us, we spread the items before us.

  “Where should we start?” I asked.

  “The box.” Addie’s eyes glowed with excitement.

  “Shouldn’t we save that for last?”

  “Oh no. You’re one of those?”

  “One of what?”

  “I bet you open presents super slow, saving the wrapping paper and everything.”

  “I do not.” I didn’t know why this suggestion made me feel slightly indignant. “I just like to savor things a bit. Take my time with things I know I’ll enjoy.”

  Addie’s expression changed then, and it occurred to me I could have been talking about any number of things. Addie was clearly thinking the same thing. “Oh,” she s
aid, swallowing. And then her hand shot out and she popped open the lid of the box. “Oh wow.”

  She turned the box so I could see what lay inside, and the overhead lights glinted off the facets of a small but perfect diamond set in a complex silver setting.

  “That’s beautiful,” I said. “A wedding ring, you think?”

  She nodded. “Must have been. I wonder whose?”

  I shrugged. “No telling how long it’s been in that little wall safe. We don’t know if even Filene knew about that.”

  Addie looked skeptical. “I’m starting to feel like she planned all this for us somehow. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.”

  I grinned. I’d had that feeling too. “Do you ever think that there’s a chance we’ll get to the end of all this, and she’ll pop out and be like, ‘I wasn’t dead after all!’”

  Addie’s smile dropped and she stared at me for a second. “Um. No. That’s a little morbid.”

  “No, it would be morbid if I thought she was dead when she wasn’t. Thinking someone might not be dead when they are is the opposite of morbid.”

  “So it’s less-bid.”

  “Um. So are you taking over the dad jokes, then?”

  She laughed and slapped my arm playfully. “Anyway, I know what you mean. It all reminds me a little of this book I read when I was a kid. The Westing Game. Did you ever read that?”

  I searched my meager literary roots. “I don’t know.”

  “It was about this old guy who planned a whole murder mystery around his own death.”

  “Wait. If he was dead, how did he do that?”

  “Exactly!” Addie sounded like this all made sense, but I guessed it did have some parallels to my idea that Filene had somehow planned all this for us.

  “Okay, open the other stuff.” I pushed the envelope toward her.

  “There’s newspaper in here.” She unfolded the yellowed paper and her eyes widened as she scanned whatever words it held.

  “Well?” The suspense was killing me.

  “There was a murder,” she breathed, and handed me the page.