Lighting Candles in the Snow (19 page)

Jeremy’s response was to come over and wrap his arms around me. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, but there wasn’t much I could do about it at that point. You walked out of the bathroom and there he stood, with the perfect vantage point. What could I do? Cover his eyes? Beat him up? Shove him out the door? Throw you down and wrap a kitchen towel around you?”

I pushed him away, letting go of the sheet in the process. My toga dropped to the floor. “Yes. You could have done any of those things. Except for throwing me down, of course.”

He shook his head and smiled at me. “Naw, I couldn’t have done any of that. It would have made a bad situation worse. It was your problem to manage and you handled it brilliantly.”

He kept looking into my eyes, making me uncomfortable.

“What?” I said, still irritated and avoiding eye contact. I picked up the sheet and re-wrapped it, tying it securely in front.

“You are a queen, Karoline. You were majestic, standing there naked. Like a goddess. I have never seen a more lovely sight. And the way you carried yourself in that sheet, toga thing.” He fingered the cloth. “You are royalty, Karoline, pure royalty.”

He kissed me tenderly. “What a lucky man I am.”

Jeremy’s Pancakes

4 cups flour

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon baking soda

4 eggs

4 cups milk, with the juice of a lemon added

½ cup oil

Stir together dry ingredients. Whisk eggs. Combine eggs, milk and oil. Stir into dry ingredients. Cook on medium high until bubbles form throughout and edges dry out, then flip with pancake turner until other side is lightly browned.

Serves six.

Home-made Maple Syrup

1 cup water

½ cup white sugar

2 cups brown sugar

2 tablespoons maple-flavored extract

Bring the water, white sugar, and brown sugar to a boil in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low, and stir in the maple extract; simmer 3 minutes longer.

Chapter Twenty-five:
Mrs. London’s Story

I
n hindsight, I suppose I should have sold the house and gotten rid of the nightmares it held for me. I thought about selling many times, unload it and move Jeremy and me to an apartment, like what I had planned at first, giving us a fresh start.

Only Jeremy had this idea that his brother was back there in the yard. It was like Stuart became Jeremy’s imaginary friend. That winter, before he left for school each day, he would go to the back door, that scene of horror, and call out, “Bye, Brother. I’ll be back soon.”

I have never been a religious person. I tried going back to church after it happened, thinking religion might help with the second huge dose of grief and tragedy that got doled out to me, but I couldn’t keep it up.

Jeremy never had any spiritual training, nothing that stuck anyway, but somehow he got a notion about lighting candles for the dead, to light their way to heaven. It isn’t a Mormon practice. I don’t know anything about the Catholic beliefs, but I do know that they light candles for people. Maybe Jeremy got his idea from someone at school who was Catholic.

Let me tell you, after Stuart died, Jeremy would take candles outside and light them. Here is this little boy, setting candles on top of the snow and lighting them. I thought, “Oh, no, he’s playing with matches, what will this lead to?”

But I didn’t need to worry, because he always used them properly. He would pat down a ledge of snow, set two or three of those little votive candles on the shelf of snow, strike a match and light them.

Or we’d use the large fat candles, thinking they’d be easier to light. Sometimes if the wind was blowing, it would be awful hard to get the matches to take.

It became a retreat for the two of us to go outside every Sunday and light candles for Stuart. It was like our church.

It may sound like a silly thing to do, but it made us both feel better and what did it hurt?

We did it throughout the winter, and not only on Sundays but whenever we felt sad. It became a tender time for the two of us, a period of healing as we lit those candles for our Stuart.

Then the snow melted and spring came and Jeremy seemed okay. He no longer insisted his brother was outside. He would say, “Brother’s in heaven, with your mom and dad.”

The next winter when the snow came, I suggested we go light candles. Jeremy refused.

He said, “No, Mommy. He’s in heaven. I don’t want to light the candles anymore. We don’t need to.”

Maybe there is something to that idea of lighting candles for the dead, to light their way to the other side. I don’t know. Or maybe it was something Jeremy and I needed to do for us, rather than for Stuart.

Either way, we had to stay here that first winter to light the candles. I couldn’t think of selling the house then. And this is the home where my first husband and I were happy. Where my two boys were born.

It’s where Jeremy and I healed, outside in the snow, after what happened. I think of the good times we shared before and after, and I try to put aside the evil that visited us here. I think Jeremy does the same.

In fact, it seemed to disappear from his mind altogether. He doesn’t remember any of what he witnessed that day. He doesn’t remember Hank, and I don’t think he even remembers Stuart any longer.

He had counseling for a while afterward, with therapists trying to bring it out of him. But he has it locked away, and what’s wrong with that? He turned out well.

I watched him carefully as he developed into a man, afraid there might be violent tendencies. Fortunately, there has been none of that, despite what he went through. Even when he drinks, he shows no anger. He gets morose, forgetful, withdrawn, but he doesn’t have a temper. I’m thankful for that. But then he is Gerald’s son, not Hank’s.

I suppose it comes out in his writing, in those dark stories he comes up with, that people like to read. I don’t understand why people like that kind of thing. Isn’t there enough wickedness in this world without having to read about it in books?

But if writing his stories is what keeps Jeremy sane, letting everything escape through the safety valve of his vivid imagination, well, then, I am surely glad he has the talent and the brains to do it.

That’s our story, Karoline. I doubt Jeremy has shared any of this. He doesn’t like to talk about the past, or to deal with it. He runs away from it. He thinks there’s no point in remembering, in looking backward.

You think it was you who threw him out, but that isn’t exactly how it happened. He started running away long before that. He caused you pain and he couldn’t bear to face it, and so he ran away, and he kept running, in his own way, until you were the one who had enough and wanted out.

I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you and Jeremy. I had a good feeling about you, Karoline. I hoped Jeremy would settle down and stay with you, have a family. He and I only had each other for such a long time. I’d sure like to see him part of a real family, have a good wife like yourself, a couple kids.

Some days I think about being a grandma. I’d clean this place up and make it nice for the grandkids. I’d like for them to call me Nonny. No particular reason except that it sounds sweet and nice, like how I’d wish for my life to turn out in the end.

But I suppose it’s too late for that now.

Chapter Twenty-six

L
ate Sunday morning, I swung myself out of bed with luxurious abandon. “Let’s get dressed and go out.”

Jeremy stretched and threw back the quilt. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his cell phone to check the time.

“You hungry?” he asked. “We could go to breakfast. It’s nearly noon, but I know a few places that serve this late.”

“Sure. Let’s eat. And then I want us to drive over to Suzie’s house.”

He sat up. “Your sister? You want to spoil this great day by making me go see her and that gaggle of giggling girls?”

I kissed him. “I love being married to a writer. The alliteration alone keeps me sharp. Although in the strictest sense we are not married—”

“But it feels like we are.” Jeremy finished my sentence.

“Indeed it does,” I agreed, falling on top of him.

Breakfast could wait. Suzie could wait. The entire world could stop for all I cared, because Jeremy and I were together again, better than ever. As we made love, the sun streamed in through the bedroom windows and bathed the room in a golden light.

“We aren’t acting like a couple who’s been married six years,” I said to him afterward.

I rolled over languidly toward the edge of the bed, thinking we should really get up.

Jeremy held onto my arm and pulled me back. “Just for the record, I’ll feel this way after fifty years. And we’re going to celebrate our fiftieth anniversary in exactly the same way. In bed. Making love. I never want to be separated from you again. God, Karoline, how I missed you.”

I kissed him. Kissing Jeremy felt like coming home. “Really? You missed me?”

“You have no idea how much. But we were divorced, you didn’t want me, and could anyone blame you? I’ve always been crazy about you, Karoline. I just haven’t been very good about showing it.”

As our kisses increased in intensity, I pulled away. “Let’s work on that, okay?”

I jumped out of bed before he could entice me back in.

I had a plan, taking shape gradually. I didn’t want to say anything yet, but perhaps as the day progressed it would come clear to both of us.

The plan had to do with family, and the first step would be a visit to Suz and Rob’s house. Sunday afternoon they’d be home.

“Why your sister’s?” Jeremy asked again as he rolled out of bed. “She won’t be thrilled to see me. What’s the deal?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, “but I feel like things need to get straight with our families before we can move on with us.”

“Okay. I can endure anything for the sake of us. Anything to have you back. A day at Suzie and Rob’s is the least I can do to atone for my sins.”

“We won’t be there that long.”

He laughed. “You’re right. Atoning for my sins will take way longer than an afternoon.”

I gave him a nudge. “No, I meant we won’t be there the whole day. There’s another stop we need to make.”

“Breakfast?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure,” I said.

“Why do we have to go to their house today?” he asked. “Can’t it wait for later, maybe next week?”

I poked him. “You’re sounding a little whiny, Jeremy London.”

He moaned. “Oh God. Whiny? Not the best personality trait, when I’m trying to change my spots.”

“Never mind,” I said. “We’ll go over there and it’ll be okay. Today’s the best time. Suzie and Rob will both be home.”

He put his arms around my waist. “But I want to be with you and feel like we’re alone in our own world. This is too good to be true, like being in a blissful dream. I need to savor it. Why end it so soon?”

“It is nice, isn’t it?”

Like that time we spent at Bear Lake. Funny how I had just been thinking of that weekend, the day I threw my journals all over the apartment. The day before Jeremy came back.

“Do you remember when we went to Bear Lake?” Jeremy said, as though reading my mind. “It reminds me of that time. This feels the same.”

I looked at him in astonishment. “I was thinking that very thing. It’s like a second honeymoon, like how it was at Bear Lake.”

“So why leave? Let’s stay in and delight in the joy of our reunion.”

“You can reflect on our happiness while I’m in the shower,” I stated. I had made up my mind. “Then let’s head out. It’s not like these are the only moments we’ll have together. It’s going to continue, on and on and on. Forever and ever. Remember that fifty year anniversary we talked about?”

“Yep. It’s a date. Many, many moments. Hours, days, a lifetime. We’ll have a lifetime together, Karoline. And I am grinning with joy at the thought of it.”

“Me, too.” I smiled wide at him. “I never imagined being this happy was even possible.”

I grabbed clean underwear and headed to the bathroom. “Let’s shower and go out. This bed isn’t going anywhere.”

We drove south on I-15 in his Suburu. It was cold for March, and windy. It felt strange to be out in the world after cloistering ourselves inside the apartment since Friday night.

“Oh, man,” Jeremy groaned. “I’m nervous about seeing your sister. She has got to hate me. It’s not like we ever got along that well anyway. After everything I put you through, I must be the slime of the earth to her.”

“No, you’re not,” I lied.

Suzie would simply have to get over her prejudice against Jeremy. Not that I had helped with my constant complaining about him the entire winter. “Anyway, I’m nervous, too,” I admitted. She has no clue that we’re back together. She’ll die.”

Jeremy pounded the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

“Let’s forget the whole idea. I’ll take this exit and we can go to Dee’s on 45th South and Redwood.”

I checked the clock on the dashboard. It was past noon and we hadn’t eaten. We could have a leisurely breakfast and that would allow plenty of time for Suzie and her family to finish their Sunday dinner.

“Okay, take the exit. I promised you breakfast and besides, I’m hungry, too.”

Our last meal had been pancakes on the couch, before Zac came by and caught me naked. I flushed thinking of it. I truly hoped I would never see him again. I hoped Rob would never see him again either. Or talk to him, or in any way provide any opportunity for the two of them to have a conversation where Zac might tell Rob what happened.

“Right on!” Jeremy exited happily.

“It’s only a detour, Jeremy, don’t get all excited. After we eat, we’ll continue on to Suzie and Rob’s.”

“Okay. Maybe after a good breakfast to fortify me, I’ll feel better about it.” He winked at me. “Or maybe I can talk you out of it.”

“No chance,” I smirked. “Today is the best time to do this. It’s Sunday and both Suz and Rob will be there. It’s hard to catch them both home at the same time.”

“And why is that important?”

“They need to know that you and I are back together.”

“Can’t you call Suzie tomorrow and tell her?”

“I could. But then she wouldn’t see for herself that we’ve gotten past our barriers and are starting fresh. We’re in a new, more mature phase of our relationship. I want Suzie and Rob to see it for themselves, without me trying to explain to Suzie over the phone, and the sooner the better.”

It’s funny how strongly I felt about this issue. In fact, I felt pretty strong overall right now. I had thought staying away from Jeremy would make me more in control of my emotions. Ironic how getting back together with him is what did it instead. I felt more like Mountain Woman than ever.

“I guess that makes sense,” Jeremy agreed.

He pulled into Dee’s parking lot, parked the car, and we headed to the restaurant.

“I don’t want there to be any shadows lurking about, any confusion,” I continued. “Suzie has her doubts about you, she always has. I think her ultimate plan was for me to convert to Mormonism like she did and marry a Mormon boy.”

“For what it’s worth, I am technically a Mormon boy. My mom had me baptized when I turned eight. Does that count?” He held the restaurant door open for me.

“Not really.” I gave him a playful slap on the arm. “You haven’t been inside a church since, have you? Not that it matters to me, but it would to Suzie. You know the kind of Mormon boy I mean—the church-going kind—like Rob.”

The hostess seated us and handed us menus. We thanked her and studied the familiar Dee’s offerings of all-American staples like burgers, fried chicken, Cobb salad, fried fish, meat loaf.

“I’m after breakfast,” Jeremy said, setting down his menu. “Eggs and sausage with a side stack. How about you, babe?”

“Sure, that sounds good. Breakfast for two it is then.”

Jeremy ordered, getting us both the same thing. When it came, I felt hungry enough to eat every bite of the filling fatty food. I piled butter on my pancakes and poured blueberry syrup over, letting it soak in while I ate the eggs and sausage.

“Good stuff,” said Jeremy, wiping his mouth and lifting his mug to finish his third cup of coffee. He spread apple jelly on his toast and took a bite.

The waitress stopped by often to refill our coffee cups. The restaurant was warm and our booth next to the window was cheery, like breakfast at Mom and Dad’s, with the sunshine brightening our meal. I felt secure and well-taken care of. I could have sat there for hours. But we had to go see Suzie and Rob today, no two ways about it.

I checked my watch. One-thirty. They’d have been home from church an hour. Suzie would have dinner ready for when Rob came in from his meeting. We had time to kill. I’d give them plenty of time to enjoy their Sunday before we walked in and sprang the bombshell on my sister.

“Rob’s a good guy,” Jeremy said, like he was reading my thoughts again. “He’s the kind of man I’d like to be some day—an attentive husband, a loving father. Maybe if I’d had a dad like that . . . but I didn’t. I never had the example. I’ve had to learn everything the hard way. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn.”

He wadded up his napkin and tossed it on his plate.

“You will, Jeremy, in your own way. Don’t get discouraged. You aren’t like Rob but you’re a fine man, too. Look at how you’ve dealt with your addictions. How you are working on that problem. It takes courage and strength of character to come to that point and stick with it.”

“One thing I’ve learned for sure is that I’ll never be fully cured. I can’t let my guard down.”

“Let your guard down how? By drinking?”

“Yes, that for one. I never considered myself an alcoholic until I went to AA and found I fit the description. I drank a lot without getting drunk. I’d have memory lapses. I drank to calm my nerves. Our relationship problems came as a direct result of drinking.” He glanced at me. “A lot of where our problems started began with my drinking too much and then getting involved with . . .”

He looked out the window and ran his hand through his hair. “With other women.”

The waitress would be around soon to take our plates and refill our coffee. I watched Jeremy, hardly able to believe how he was opening up with me. He had never before admitted guilt like this.

“And yeah, the remorse,” he added. “You never knew how many times I tried to quit drinking.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t make it stick. Never for more than a few hours, then I’d have to have a drink or I’d go crazy. I couldn’t do it on my own. I still can’t. I need AA to stay sober.”

The waitress stopped by to clear the table. She refilled our cups, asked if we wanted anything else. We both shook our heads; and as for me, I was rendered speechless by the fact of Jeremy’s confession. She seemed to sense this was some kind of meaningful discussion, because she quietly placed the check on the table and we didn’t see her again.

“And there was the . . . the sex. The pornography.”

Jeremy paused and glanced around. Our server was busy with her lunch crowd. He lowered his voice, although he had spoken in little more than a whisper. I had to strain to hear each word.

“It was the night of our anniversary when I hit bottom. At the time I brushed it off but later, after the divorce, I knew. I despised myself for that night.”

I reached over and touched his hand. He continued, “I hated myself for all of it. I had to get past the guilt and the lies and the denial before I could get to the healing.”

“Where are you now?” I was almost afraid to ask. “Where are you in the healing process?”

Getting back together for a weekend was one thing, but being together full-time might bring back the lies, the emotional distance, the danger zones. I couldn’t take that again. I could only stay with Jeremy if he was truly getting better.

“I’m off alcohol. I’m off porn. I am sitting in this restaurant telling you things I never believed I’d admit. To you, or to anyone. That I never would have admitted before.”

He pulled out his wallet and removed a credit card, setting it on the bill.

“I’m better, Karoline. I am healing. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have come back.”

I nodded. “Okay, I see. That makes sense, I guess.” But I was still confused. “Jeremy, tell me this one thing. If you are recovering, you love me, but if you aren’t, you don’t?”

He took a deep breath and said, “Let me try to explain. It’s not about love. An addict puts the addiction above everything else. Before spouse, kids, work. The addiction comes first, regardless of who gets cast aside in the process. Regardless of what anyone tells you—anyone being the addict and the addict being me—the craving is always first in his life. Period. Recovery is when things get turned around to their proper order.

“And I shouldn’t be talking in third person. It’s me who is the addict, not some random guy. Getting healthy means the former obsession is no longer #1 in the addict’s—in my—thoughts and behavior.”

“So now, being in recovery, you love me when before you loved the addiction more?”

It was easier to say “the addiction” rather than call it by the actual names: alcohol, casual sex, porn. Ugly, ugly words.

“It’s not easy to admit to, but yeah.”