Authors: Muriel Jensen
“What?” Bobbie asked.
He winced. “She looks like the type that has her receipts separated into little plastic bags, has no idea where her property tax statement is, and doesn’t remember whether or not she made estimated tax payments. I’m guessing by her gown and the rocks on her fingers that she has considerable income.”
Bobbie swatted his arm. “That’s pessimistic.”
“I’ll lay you odds.”
The announcement of Nate’s name made him stop. Jerry was holding up one of Mike Wallis’s baskets from The Cellar on Tenth. Nate went to claim it. It contained three bottles of wine and a large collection of the gourmet food items stocked at The Cellar.
Bobbie spotted chocolate when he placed his winnings on the table, and reached beneath the elegant cellophane wrapped around the basket.
“Hey!” He caught her hand. “This is mine.”
She smiled coyly. “But isn’t half of everything that’s yours now mine, too? At least the chocolate half?”
He was intoxicated with her playful charm and handed her the chocolate. This did not bode well, he thought, for winning future arguments with her.
Clarissa, Sandy and Jerry continued drawing until almost everything had found a home. The painting was the last item in the raffle. Jerry held it up, and Clarissa made Bobbie stand.
“Oh, no,” she groaned under her breath.
Nate and her father pushed her to her feet. There was loud applause and Clarissa asked her to come forward and explain the subject.
She groaned again, but Nate nudged her toward the microphone.
He watched her take the mic and suddenly become relaxed. She talked about having come to Astoria to complete a commission, and becoming involved in the community because of Sandy’s bullying. Everyone who knew Sandy laughed, and her friend shook a playful fist at her.
“I had so much fun teaching the art class,” Bobbie said, her smile verifying that fact, “and enjoyed working with this committee to put on this beautiful evening....” More applause. “So when Sandy suggested a painting reflecting the Old Astoria theme, I was happy to do it. I was already in love with the place, and seeing the old photographs made me love it even more.
“I had a built-in model for the sea captain because, many of you probably know, Nate Raleigh is my neighbor.” There were now hoots and applause. “He owed me big because Arnold... Do you all know Arnold?” Impressed oohs. “He chased my cat through my studio, leaped at a shelf that held a lot of my supplies, tipped them all into my bucket of papermaking material and pretty much destroyed it.” This revelation brought on teasing, boos and hisses. “So Nate was forced to pose for the project to try to make it up to me. And that’s why the ship’s captain might look familiar to you.
“Anyway, thank you for being such a caring, supportive community. I’ve loved being here so much that I’ve decided to stay.” That news was met with applause and cheers.
Sandy gave her a hug and Bobbie came back to the table, her cheeks pink. She took her chair next to Nate and leaned in as he draped his arm around her. He loved knowing she was his, though he didn’t dare say that aloud, either.
The room was silent when Sandy drew for the painting. The band did a drumroll as she handed the entry to Clarissa.
“Mike Wallis!” Clarissa exclaimed. The room erupted in applause again. It was well known that Mike had purchased several hundred dollars worth of tickets
Mike accepted the painting from Jerry and announced that it would hang in a prominent place in The Cellar.
The band played for another hour, guests moving in weary circles on the dance floor as the evening began to wind down. On their way out, everyone stopped to congratulate Sandy and Clarissa on a job well done.
“I have to run to the ladies’ room before we leave,” Bobbie said to Nate, seeing Sandy head off in that direction. “Do you mind waiting a minute?”
“Not at all. Take your time. I’ll carry the basket out to the car and come back for you.”
“Perfect.”
Bobbie found Sandy staring at her reflection in the mirror. When she spotted Bobbie, she smiled thinly and said, “I can’t believe it went so well. It was fun, but I’m so happy it’s over. I think we made a bundle. We’re turning everything over to Nate and we’ll know on Monday how much we made.”
“You did a superb job, Sandy. It was a wonderful evening. But how are
you?
”
“I’m fine. Anxious to get home and off my feet.”
“Did you try to talk to Hunter?”
“No. I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘I’ll be happy to wait while we work together to figure this out.’”
Sandy shrugged and turned away from the mirror. “I have a ton of things to do before I go home. I’ve got to—”
Bobbie’s cell phone rang just then, but she caught Sandy’s arm before she could disappear. It was Laura’s husband’s name on her caller ID and Bobbie answered quickly, “Hi, Sean!” She smiled as she spoke, so happy to have finally connected with him.
There was a moment’s silence before he said, “Hi, Bobbie.” His voice was dark, clouded.
She knew instantly that something was wrong. Sandy had stopped trying to pull away and now took hold of Bobbie’s arm.
“What?”
she mouthed.
“What’s wrong?” Bobbie made herself ask.
There was a small gasp on the other end of the line, a swallow, a breath. “Laura’s gone, Bobbie.”
Cymbals crashed in her head. Everything shook. The moment stretched, then snapped back with a vicious sting. She had no voice, but she somehow whispered, “What?”
“She died. Arrhythmia, they said. Sometimes caused by chemo drugs.” He drew a ragged breath. “She was tired and we were lying on the bed, talking baby names, and she...she suddenly couldn’t breathe. I helped her sit up, and when that didn’t help, I called 911. She died in the ambulance.”
Bobbie shut off her own shock and pain. “Oh, Sean,” she said, groping for words of comfort and coming up empty. “When did this happen?”
“Ah...ten days ago, I think. I’m not sure. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I sort of forgot everything. I ignored my own phone for days, and it wasn’t until I got her stuff from the hospital, and took her phone out of her purse and heard all your messages, that I remembered. Her parents and mine thought it would be best to...to have a memorial service after the holidays. She didn’t want a funeral. We had talked about it in the very beginning, when we weren’t sure she was going to survive.” He was quiet a moment, then said, “She loved you, Bobbie. If we got pregnant and had a girl, she wanted to call her Roberta.”
Bobbie’s throat closed and she felt as though there was gravel from her tonsils to her chest. She was vaguely aware of crushing Sandy’s hand. “I would have loved that,” she said around a sob.
Someone in the background called Sean’s name.
“My mom’s here, staying with me,” he said. “I’ve had trouble eating and she’s fixing something....”
“Of course. Sean, I’m so sorry. If I can do anything, please call me.”
“I will. Bye, Bobbie.”
“Bye.” She closed her phone and turned to Sandy, grief shutting off her air. She had to drag in a breath. “Laura died, Sean said. Of arrhythmia caused by the chemo drugs.”
“Oh, Bobbie!”
“Ten days ago. She’s been gone for...ten days.”
Bobbie thought about all the wonderful things that had happened to her in the past ten days. She’d realized she was in love, she and Nate had proposed to each other, they’d had this wonderful evening. And all that time, Laura had been gone.
She felt her own life, at least her enthusiasm for it, drain out of her. Laura had fought so hard. She’d put off having the baby she wanted because of the restraints of student poverty, then when cancer had threatened her, she’d fought to live the life she wanted, to have that baby. Roberta.
And for what? Not only to have the dream die, but the dreamer, too?
“Bobbie, let me get Nate.” Sandy tried to push her into a tufted love seat in the lounge outside the restroom.
“No,” she said firmly. She felt as though she had that disease where everything in the body became like rock. She had no blood, no breath.
The door pushed open and Stella appeared, a brush in her hand, a smile on her lips—until she saw the two of them.
“Get Nate, please,” Sandy ordered urgently.
Stella turned instantly to do as she was told.
“I’m going to be okay,” Bobbie insisted, heading for the door.
Sandy stayed with her. “Bobbie, please sit down for a minute. Let me get you a brandy.”
Nate flung open the door, worry etched on his face, his eyes narrowing as he saw her pain.
“Her friend Laura died,” Sandy explained quickly. “Some complication from the chemo drugs. She just got a call from Laura’s husband.”
* * *
N
ATE
HAD
NEVER
seen that desperation on Bobbie’s face before, a terrible grief in her eyes accompanied by an underlying fear. He didn’t know what had happened or what to do for her, so he simply opened his arms. At first she resisted, then she seemed to crumple. He took a step toward her and she fell into his embrace, weeping against him as Sandy explained to their friends and family, women
and
men, gathered in the ladies’ room what had happened.
“They went through chemo together,” Sandy said, tears streaming down her face. “They championed each other’s causes. I think they shared something that’s hard for the rest of us to understand.”
Nate crushed Bobbie to him. He remembered the text she’d received on Thanksgiving. He knew this wasn’t about him, but he didn’t want this loss to drive a wedge between him and Bobbie when she now finally,
finally,
wanted to be in his life. He admitted that selfish thought, then focused on what he could do for her.
He turned to Hunter. “I’m parked in the old Safeway lot.” He reached into his pants pocket and handed Hunter his keys. “Would you mind bringing my car to the front?”
His friend was off in an instant.
“I’ll get her coat.” Stella hurried through the swinging doors. Sandy handed her Bobbie’s purse.
Dennis shook his head, his eyes sad and concerned. He put a hand to his daughter’s back, but didn’t seem to know what to say, either.
They were in the car and on their way home in five minutes. Bobbie had stopped crying and sat in eerie stillness, staring through the windshield, her coat pulled around her. Nate glanced at her and saw the tightness in her delicate profile, the set to her mouth that he remembered from the day the boys and Arnold had destroyed her studio.
“I’ll make you a cup of mulled wine,” he said, putting a hand out to touch her. “Your father showed me how.”
She covered it with her own, then said with a sigh, “I’d like to go home, Nate.”
He glanced at her again and saw that she was looking at him. And he knew in that instant that everything was changing. He wasn’t sure how or why, but the woman who’d proposed to him was gone, replaced by one who still loved him, but could live without him.
“Bobbie...”
She squeezed his hand to stop what he was about to say.
“Okay.” He steered into her driveway rather than his and saw her father already waiting at the open door. Nate helped Bobbie out and walked her up the steps. At the top, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was a step below her so they were eye to eye. He didn’t like what he saw in the dark depths of her gaze—that old disconnection that had so frustrated him. But now was not the time.
He hugged her tightly. “Try to sleep,” he said gently. “I’m just a shout away.”
She seemed grateful for that. For just an instant he caught a glimpse of the woman who’d kidnapped him to show him her favorite place. She put a hand to his cheek and her lips to his, and kissed him with the easy affection that had grown between them. When she raised her head, he swore he saw goodbye in her eyes before that terrible sadness swamped it. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, her voice raspy and thick.
He watched her disappear into her father’s arms, and got back into his car.
Stella waited at the open door when he climbed the steps. She greeted him with a hug. “How awful for her,” she said. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But her dad’s helped her deal with life and death before.”
“Good.” Stella hugged him again. “I paid the babysitter and let her go. You owe me big. I’ll see you Monday. Try not to worry about...anything. She loves you.”
The woman was reading his mind. “Right.”
He paced the living room in the dark, sipping at a cup of coffee. He’d had enough to drink at the party, and whatever else happened in his life, he still had two little boys asleep upstairs. He had to stay functional.
On one of his trips from the front door to the kitchen, he saw the lights go out at Bobbie’s. It was just before 1:00 a.m. His cell phone rang. It was Dennis.
“How’s she doing?” Nate asked.
“She’s in her room, trying to rest. I know you’re worried about her, but I’ll take good care of her. You should get some rest, too.” Dennis cleared his throat, as though not certain he had the right to say what he was about to. “I can imagine how worried you are. But I’m praying she’s going to wake up in the morning and realize that what happened to her friend was one of those awful, unpredictable things, and she still has a whole life ahead of her. And that she wants to spend it with you.”
Nate fell into his chair. “All right. But if she wakes up thinking anything else, I’m going to lose faith in you as a father-in-law.”
Dennis uttered a mirthless laugh. “Good night, Nate.”
“Good night, Dennis.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
R
AIN
BATTERED
THE
roof and the windows when Bobbie awoke on Sunday. It was after eleven and she could smell coffee and something mapley. Her father’s French toast, she guessed. Monet was wrapped in a tight ball against her side and she had one moment of cozy happiness until her new reality came down on her like a sledgehammer.
Laura was gone, a victim of the drugs intended to save her. One of life’s dirty tricks. After all they’d been through together, Bobbie felt as if she’d lost part of herself, as if the progress she’d made back to life had been ripped away.
Nate. She groaned from the ache she felt at the thought of him, so caring and comforting last night, so ready to argue with her always. She closed her eyes to hold back tears, but they fell anyway. She had to go talk to him. Today.
She pulled on jeans and a black turtleneck she’d bought for her Astoria walks, and brushed her hair. It still amazed her how normal she looked now, how much like her old self. Then she accepted with grinding pain in that spot where love had been just yesterday that she would never be her old self again. She would always be a woman who’d had cancer and refused to let it hurt anyone else in her life. And the only way to do that was to bar anyone else from admittance.
She left the house through her studio, to avoid a conversation with her father that might divert her from her plan. She’d decided in the middle of the night that this was how it had to be.
Sheamus answered the back door and smiled brightly at her. “Hi, Bobbie!” He stepped aside to let her in. “We’re wrapping presents! And we have something for you!”
The gravel she’d had in her throat last night seemed to have collected into one giant lump. She couldn’t swallow past it. “Well...” she said faintly. “I’d better stay in here, then. Is your uncle...?”
“Right here.” Nate appeared in the doorway from the living room, looking like the ship’s captain after a night at the Astoria waterfront taverns. He was tousled and seemed vulnerable, for all the toughness in his eyes. She was sure he knew why she was here. But he offered politely, “Cocoa? Tea?”
She didn’t want to prolong this, but did want to spend time with him, as difficult as it would be. “Tea would be nice,” she replied.
“Water just boiled.” He went to the cupboard for two Christmas cups and a box of Christmas spice tea he’d bought when they’d gone to the bake sale at St. Mary’s. He poured boiling water over the two tea bags and carried the cups to the table.
He sat opposite her and crossed his forearms on the place mat. “Go ahead,” he said. He seemed sort of disengaged despite the flash in his eyes and the hard line of his jaw.
She dragged her tea bag through the water in her cup and met his gaze. “Go ahead?” she asked.
“You’re here to tell me you’re leaving,” he said in an even, unimpassioned voice. “Go ahead.”
The direct approach as a tactic to take the wind out of her sails worked very well. She stammered a moment, took a sip of tea, then said with as much dignity as she could muster, “I’ve thought about it carefully, and I think it’s the best thing for all of us.”
“In what universe,” he asked calmly, “would that be better for all of us?” When she took too long to answer, he did. “I’ll tell you. In the universe where only what
you
want matters. You can go your own way and not worry about whether the boys and I are tough enough to deal with whatever happens to you. You can put everything into your art, because it doesn’t ask anything of you but your commitment to your talent. If you die, your art only becomes more valuable.”
She looked at him in hurt surprise. “I explained—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “Art requires your undivided attention, your complete dedication to what’s in your gut, yada, yada. And that doesn’t fit with family, because love requires that you be there to give it, and get it back, and all those tyrannical little details incomprehensible to the free spirit.”
She was too stunned to be angry. He’d argued with her before, but he’d never been cruel. “Nate,” she whispered, her eyes brimming.
“Look,” he said, his voice rising slightly, the flame in his eyes sparking, “if you don’t love me and the boys, that’s one thing. But don’t give me this tragic tale of the Lone Wolf Lady going off on her own because her life is just too grim to share.” He jabbed two fingertips at his chest. “We’ve dealt with grim, believe me. We can do it.”
“Nate,” she pleaded quietly, “the boys have already lost both parents, and you carried them through the horror of that and got them to a place where their lives make sense again. What if what happened to Laura happens to me? Or what if the cancer comes back?” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “I know.
You’re
very heroic. You’ve proved that on several levels. But Dylan and Sheamus are two little boys who shouldn’t be asked to go through that again.”
“We don’t know that anything will happen to you. Your prognosis at this point is good.”
“And that’s the way I’d been thinking. I love you and them so much that I forgot what it’s like to have that malignancy inside you, and feel it trying to kill you. It makes you balance on the balls of your feet, ready to go either way, to live or to die, because the disease makes the decision, you don’t. And Laura’s death reminded me of that.”
Bobbie reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. He didn’t move, but she saw something soften in his eyes. “If it was just you and me, I’d stay. But it isn’t. It’s them, too. And I won’t put them at risk like that.”
* * *
A
ND
THAT
WAS
how she got him. He would gladly take the chance himself, but he couldn’t force it on the boys. He turned his hand to hold hers, looked into her pleading gaze, and hated himself for everything he’d said. Pain burned in his chest.
“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang to his eyes and he fought them down. She came around the table and he pushed back his chair to take her in his lap. They wept together.
“I’m leaving day after tomorrow,” she said, straightening up. He closed his eyes against that fact and she kissed his temple and added quickly, “Dad has Stella and you and the boys to spend the holiday with, and the sooner I’m gone the better.”
“I could go into a few reasons why that isn’t true.”
“Please don’t. My mind’s made up.”
“All right then.” Nate put her on her feet. “Wait right here. I have something for you.” He disappeared into the living room and returned with a large dress box. It was wrapped in signature Tony’s Boutique burgundy and silver. He put it on the table.
“Nate,” she began to protest.
“Just open it,” he said. “I’m on my last reserves of self-control.”
She removed the ribbon, tugged off the lid and dug into the tissue. She pulled out the red wool jacket with the irregular collar and closure that she’d admired the day she’d sketched him on the waterfront. She held it to herself, more tears falling.
“Try it on,” he said. “I want to remember you in it.”
Hands trembling, she slipped into it and fastened the buttons.
She looked beautiful, he thought. It was just the sort of offbeat, eccentric thing to underscore who she was. He would remember her in this kitchen, helping the boys with their sketches, helping him with Thanksgiving dinner, talking, teasing, being everything he’d ever wanted—but apparently couldn’t have.
He reached into the bottom of the box and handed her a five-pound bag of Thundermuck coffee. “That’s the stuff you liked so much the night you helped Sheamus build Bill the Monster.”
She walked into Nate’s arms again, sobbed for several moments, then drew back and looked up at him, misery in her eyes. “I’ll love you forever,” she said.
“Yeah.” He held her close. “Me, too.”
He helped her put the coat back in the box, fitted the coffee into a corner, put the lid on and carried it to the door for her. Then he watched her walk across their driveways with it.
From the living room came soft sounds of laughter. Stella and the boys were decorating the Christmas tree she’d bought with them early that morning.
Nate’s heartbreak drowned out the sounds.
* * *
N
ATE
TOOK
THE
boys Christmas shopping for Stella and Dennis, to get them out of the house. He explained about Bobbie having to leave, and though he tried to make it sound positive—she was fulfilling a dream, and they might be able to visit her one day—he wasn’t fooling anyone. Sheamus cried and Dylan sank into a mood that reminded Nate of the old days. Getting them out into the rampant Christmas cheer seemed like the best solution, even if it was only temporary.
Sheamus wanted to buy Stella a purse set that included wallet, eyeglass holder, cigarette pouch and makeup bag.
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Shea! She doesn’t smoke and she doesn’t wear glasses. She wouldn’t use half that stuff. What about a woolly hat to keep her warm? Or when she stays overnight with us, she has that ratty brown robe. A new one would be something she could really use.”
Sheamus folded his arms and struck a stubborn pose. “Okay, but I like the wallet.”
“Let’s look at robes,” Nate suggested. “Good idea, Dylan. Then we can get a wallet, too, that isn’t part of a set.”
Both boys agreed that would work.
They decided on pink for Stella’s robe. Nate decided to ignore the gender stereotyping.
The boys were convinced that Dennis would love a dark blue hooded sweatshirt with ASTORIA embroidered on the left side in gold. “’Cause he isn’t from here,” Dylan explained.
“Good point.” Nate paid for the purchase.
“Can we get a TV for Hunter?” Sheamus stopped to watch a colorful, exceptionally clear cartoon on a dozen screens in the electronics section. “’Cause he likes ours so much.”
“That’s too expensive,” Dylan said. He looked up at Nate questioningly, “Isn’t it?”
Nate smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the ladies’ room at the Banker’s Suite last night. A television for Hunter. He liked the idea. And it fit into the plan he’d been considering while the boys were shopping.
He bought a 46” flat screen television, and the fixtures to mount it on the wall. The boys were excited. He paid extra to have it delivered immediately. “We’ll follow the delivery truck to Hunter’s,” he said to the boys, “then we’re all going to go to McDonald’s, okay?”
He became the hero of the hour.
“Why don’t
we
just deliver it?” Dylan asked.
“Because Hunter’s apartment is on the second floor. You think you can help me carry it up?”
Dylan grinned. “Right. He’s gonna be so surprised!”
When the truck arrived in front of Hunter’s apartment building, Nate parked across the street, and he and the boys followed the deliverymen up the stairs. Hunter came to the door in jeans and a gray sweatshirt, munching on an apple. He looked surprised by the small crowd at his door. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept well.
Nate led the way into the apartment. “Hey, good morning!” he said. “These two elves and I, and these gentlemen from Santa’s Workshop, represent the Union for Fairness to members of the Rotten List.”
Dylan laughed.
“In the interest of turning you around so that next year you make the Nice list, we’re providing you with a gesture of our faith in you. Where would you like it?”
Hunter frowned as he read the box, “Forty-six-inch LED HDTV.” He turned to them in astonishment. For a minute, Nate was sure Hunter was going to make a suggestion about where to put it that the boys shouldn’t hear, but at the last minute he said instead, “You can’t give me—”
“Pick a spot,” Nate said, “because in a rented place we want to put the screws in only once. Right here where the current TV is?” There was a lot of bare wall and a very small television.
The men went to work. They disconnected and moved the old set and stand aside, then, with a whir of power tools, put up the new one.
“You’ll have to upgrade your cable service,” Nate said. “We can do that at the office on Monday. Come on. We’re going to lunch.”
“What is wrong with you?” Hunter demanded.
Nate ignored him and pointed to the hall closet. “Dylan, get his jacket.”
There was a little satisfaction for Nate in seeing his friend confused and speechless. At the office, he was seldom confused about anything, and always had an answer to the knottiest problem. Hunter reminded him a lot of Ben. He’d saved Nate’s hide a few times since he’d taken over the office.
Nate and the boys led him forcibly out to the car and into the passenger seat.
“People saw you kidnap me, you know,” he told Nate. “You’ll never get away with this. Whatever it is.”
Nate simply smiled, parked at McDonalds, ordered a Happy Meal for Sheamus, then Big Mac meals for the rest of them.
“We were Christmas shopping,” Nate explained to the still perplexed Hunter after they’d eaten, “and the boys thought you should have a television.”
“Thanks, guys.” Hunter sent a smile the boys’ way, clearly still in a stupor. “But you can’t give me such a big item just like that.”
“Why make life more complicated than it has to be? How about dessert?” The boys were already on their feet. Nate looked at the long line at the counter and saw his chance. “You guys mind going to get it while I talk to Hunter? Four hot fudge sundaes. Hot fudge okay with you?”
Hunter nodded dazedly. The boys ran off to join the line.
Nate pinned his friend with a look. “Okay, here it is. I’ve only got till the boys come back, so don’t interrupt me. I’m giving you the money to pay off the rest of your debts from the embezzlement...hey!”
Hunter glowered and tried to interrupt, but Nate glowered back. “I don’t want the boys to hear me talking about Bobbie moving to Italy, so just let me finish.”
“I thought you were en—”
“Are you not hearing me?”
Hunter sat back. “Sorry. You can explain that later.”
“I’m also going to give you a down payment on a house. So you can call Sandy tonight and tell her you want to talk. You don’t have to tell her how you got this money. It’s a gift from me to you, because I’m just realizing today how cool it is to have people in your life that you can depend on for anything. I’ll transfer funds to your account Monday morning.”