Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
Low was still looking at her like a lost child. Jena said, “Your dad knew the Springs were going to be the best place for us. That we needed to be there, I guess.”
“But why?”
So many reasons.
But Jena said, “For family. You’ll find out when we get there. And as much as I’m not looking forward to it, I think Dad was right. I think we need to go back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this.”
They stood in silence, Jena’s arms still wrapped around her tall boy. Low finally said, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I know.”
“You only called Dad ‘Lowell.’”
“That’s not completely true. I call you ‘Lowell’ when I’m really mad at you.”
He sniffed again. “Are you still mad?”
“You ever going to call me Jena again?”
“Only if we’re at the grocery store, and you’re not answering to ‘Mom.’”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She ruffled his hair and walked him back to his side of the car, reaching into the front seat to grab a bunch of Kleenex. She handed a few to Low, then blew her own nose, closing her eyes as she sent up a silent plea.
Oh, Lowell, I hope you know what you’re doing.
By the time she walked back to the driver’s seat, Aaron and Low were talking again.
“—but there are trees, right?”
“There’s not a lot, but there’s a few. And there’s more by the Springs and the river where Grandpa will take us fishing. Not just Joshua trees. But Joshua trees are really kind of cool.” Low glanced at Jena as she started the car. “They look like some of those weird trees in Dr. Seuss books.”
“Cool! Can we have one in our yard?” Aaron asked.
“You mean Grandpa and Grandma’s yard?”
Jena said, “Hey, we’re going to have our own yard eventually.”
“Mom, can we have a Joshua tree for a Christmas tree?”
Low snorted. “Goof, you can’t use a Joshua tree for Christmas.”
“Mom! Low called me a—”
“Aaron, let it go.”
She heard Low cackle from the backseat as Aaron huffed and slumped down below her line of vision in the rear view mirror.
It was going to be a long ride home.
Night Two
Central California Coast
“You knew going into this that I wasn’t a good long-term prospect, Jena.”
“You’re an awful big smart-ass for a ghost.”
“You always had a weakness for smart-asses.” Low grinned again. In that moment, he was the boy who threw toads at her while she was in her Easter dress. The awkward twelve-year-old who was shorter than her and pissed-off about it. The rangy high school boy who gave Jena her first kiss. The boy she married at eighteen, crazy in love and knowing in her heart that she didn’t have long.
His grin turned into a soft smile and ghostly fingers trailed down her cheek. “We had long enough.”
“No, we didn’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the sunburned, sandy boys, who had played hard on the beach in Monterey after a visit to the aquarium. They would stop the next morning at a college friend’s house in Santa Barbara. Jena still felt like driving at night with the window cracked open to the night air. That night, the scent of cedar and eucalyptus filled the salty ocean air as they drove along Highway One. She was tired, but if she drove at night, she knew Lowell would keep her company. Once again, in her heart, she knew she didn’t have long.
“You know, if we’d had longer,” he said, “I probably would have knocked you up at least twice more. We have very cool kids.”
She managed a smile. “We do. They’re loud and obnoxious and brilliant.”
“And completely ours.”
She glanced at him, noticing the look of quiet awe. He’d always watched the boys that way when they slept, like he couldn’t quite imagine that they existed. In a way, it was extraordinary they did.
“We had longer than most,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
She tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the car before she choked up. “And really, the fact that you survived until adulthood is a miracle in itself, considering how clumsy you were.”
He scowled. “I wasn’t clumsy.”
“Tree house. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
“That was not an accident! I—I pushed you.”
Jena threw her head back and laughed. “Only you would try to cover up clumsiness as aggression! You didn’t have a mean bone in your body, Lowell McCann, and you would
never
have pushed a girl out of a tree house on purpose.
Clumsy
.”
“I was devious.” He nodded, and his lower lip stuck out thoughtfully. “I was so devious that I made everyone think I was a nice kid.”
“You
were
a nice kid. Just a clumsy one.”
“I wasn’t! I was the best forward on the basketball team.”
Jena rolled her eyes. “Low, there were fifty boys in our entire class.”
“That doesn’t negate my contribution. And
you
didn’t even make the team, despite being the tallest girl in class.”
She shrugged. “I don’t like basketball.”
“The one thing I was good at, and you were completely unimpressed.”
She smiled then and looked at him. “You were good at a lot of stuff.”
Lowell knit his hands behind his head and leaned back with a grin. “Tell me. All the stuff I was good at. I missed the funeral.”
“Cocky.” She paused, but he didn’t say another word, so she continued in a quiet voice. “You were funny. You could make anyone laugh. And kind. It’s like… even though you caused all sorts of trouble, you couldn’t stand to see a girl cry. Remember when we were all freshmen and Allie was still kind of chubby?”
“Yeah.”
“And Joe and Alex were picking on her.”
“Joe was an idiot. She was in love with him even back then.”
Jena nodded. “She was. And you knew it. And they were picking on her that one day after the band concert and you were there—”
“I didn’t say anything mean to her! She was your best friend.”
“I know.” She reached over and put her hand on the center console like she used to when he was still living. She felt a prickling sensation, almost like static electricity, as his ghostly hand covered hers. “No, you did something stupid to Alex. I can’t remember…”
“I think I gave him a wedgie.”
She burst out laughing. “You did! That’s what it was. And he got so pissed, he turned and chased you behind the gym.”
Lowell snorted. “I got a bloody nose for that. Alex was always such a tight-ass. I was hoping the wedgie would help.”
“But…” Jena smiled again. “They stopped teasing Allie, didn’t they?”
He winked at her. “You were never going to kiss me if my buddies kept teasing your best friend. See?” He tapped his temple. “Devious.”
“Softie.”
“Shhh.” A finger ghosted over her lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Jena blinked back her sudden tears and continued. “And you were so smart, even though you got horrible grades.”
“School was boring. What else was I good at?”
“You never exaggerated. You always told the exact truth.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “You liked that? I always thought that pissed you off because I’d tell you if your clothes didn’t look good.”
She squinted. “Well, that part was a little annoying, but otherwise, I liked it.”
“Damn, I was a catch, Jen. Despite my inevitably short life span, you were a lucky woman.”
She stifled a smile. “Did I tell you how much I loved your modesty? You were always so humble.”
“Exceptionally humble. Incredibly modest. A saint really.”
A low chuckle built in her chest. She muffled it, frightened to wake the boys. She turned onto a wider stretch of the twisting road and turned her head to glance over her shoulder. They were both still sleeping.
“I was good at loving you,” Lowell said quietly. “I was always good at that.”
It was no good. No matter how hard she blinked, Jena was going to cry.
“No…” His silent body scooted closer and his fingers tried to wipe away the tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re gonna crash, Jena. Slow down. Don’t cry.”
A quiet sob wrenched from her throat. “I don’t know how to do this without you, Low. Dammit, dammit, dammit!” She quickly blinked away the tears, lifting a hand to brush at her cheeks. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“That’s why you’re moving back. Because that’s where people know how to help. It won’t just be you anymore. So it’s okay if you don’t know. It’s okay.”
He continued whispering soothing words to her. Sweet endearments and private jokes they’d shared through ten years of marriage. Three years of dating. A lifetime of growing up in the same small town. When she was calm, Lowell leaned back on his side of the car, watching her with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
“I want you to fall in love again.”
“Ha!” She uttered a quick, bitter laugh. “Right.”
“You will. You’ll find love again. You’re a very loving person. And you deserve it.”
“Maybe I don’t want to fall in love again. I loved you my whole life.”
He grinned. “Not when I pushed you out of the tree house, you didn’t.”
“It was an accident.”
His voice was a teasing sing-song. “So you say.”
“Mo-om
,
” Low Jr. whined from back seat, mumbling in his sleep. “Tell Dad he’s being too loud.”
When her shocked eyes dropped from the rearview mirror, Lowell’s ghost was gone.
Day Two
Southern California Coast
“Mama! Watch me!”
Aaron jumped up in the waves, bounding over them as they rolled into the shore. Jena sat on the warm rocks and dug her toes into the sand. Nearby, Low listened to his music, staring out over the glistening water. They both watched Aaron play in the shallow waves, Jena poised to leap the moment he wandered too far.
“There aren’t any beaches by the Springs. He’ll hate that.”
Jena turned to look at Low when he spoke. He’d pulled one of his earbuds out and the faint sound of music whistled to her ears as the wind blew it toward her. “Yeah, that’ll be hard for him. I’ve never seen a kid like water as much as Bear does. But there’s the river. And there are beaches on the river where it twists around and forms these nice little inlets. Grandpa Max can teach both of you how to drive the boat. You’ll be river rats in no time.”
A spark of interest lit the eight-year-old’s eyes. “Really? I can drive it?”
Jena shrugged. “As long as it’s okay with him. I mean, don’t let the sheriff catch you or anything, but Grandpa will teach you. I learned how to drive a boat around your age.”
“How far away is the river from the Springs?”
“Just thirty miles or so.”
Low didn’t say anything. He just stared out at his younger brother again and put the other earbud back in his ear. Soon, the only sounds that drifted to Jena’s ears on the deserted stretch of beach were the passing cars on the road behind them, the waves, and her youngest son’s shrieks of joy.
She closed her eyes in a long blink, drifting as she sat in the sand and the Southern California sun shone on her. The air was damp and cool in the spring breeze and Aaron, tired out from the water and full of his picnic lunch, lay stretched out on his towel with his head resting against her stomach. Low was walking near the tide pools on the edge of the water, poking at the anemones with a long stick of driftwood.
“Mama?”
“What’s up, baby?”
“Did you ever live in a really big city?”
“Like Los Angeles?” Aaron had been fascinated by the idea of driving through the city with its miles and miles of buildings and houses all stuck together. It was more than his five-year-old brain could fathom.
“Yeah.”
“Well, after we left the Springs, Daddy and I lived in Seattle. That’s not as big as L.A., but it’s pretty big.”
“Why?”
“Why did we live there?” She ruffled his hair and watched Low pick up a piece of wet kelp and lift it so it flew in the wind. “That’s where Mommy went to school to learn how to cook, and Daddy worked there.”
“What did Daddy do in the city?”
She smiled at the memories. “He went to school for a little bit, too; but he didn’t like it, so he sold cars.”
“Cars?” He squinted his green eyes and looked up at her. Aaron was the spitting image of Lowell, from the sandy blond hair that would darken as the years passed, to the pale freckled skin. He was a McCann through and through. The stubborn Scots-Irish heritage showed not a hint of the Native American blood mixed in her own family tree. Low Jr. looked more like her, sharing her smooth olive skin, dark brown hair with hints of russet, and cheekbones that were the envy of her girlfriends. But both boys had those eyes, Lowell’s beautiful green eyes.
“Yep, Daddy sold cars.”
“But he didn’t sell cars at home. He sold houses.”
“Daddy could sell anything to anyone. That’s just the way he was.”
Aaron sighed and curled into her side. “That’s because everyone liked him, huh?”
She blinked back the tears as the wind caught her eyes. “Yep,” she whispered. “Everyone loved Daddy.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Low had thrown the kelp out into the ocean and picked up another piece of driftwood. He drew something in the wet sand with one piece, stood back to look at it for a moment, then took the other piece of wood and violently scratched it out. He repeated the action over and over as he walked farther down the beach until a trail of broken marks followed behind him.
“Mommy?”
“What’s up, Aar-Bear?”
“Why is Low so mad at me?”
Jena pulled her baby up and set him in her lap, his long legs sticking out awkwardly as she tried to hold him. She laid her cheek on the small boy’s soft hair and watched as Low hurled both sticks into the ocean, where they splashed in the retreating waves. Then he stood, shoulders slumped, staring out over the murky water as an afternoon fog began to roll in.
“He’s not really mad at you. He just misses home.”
Aaron’s spindly arms reached around her and his fingers played with the feathers of hair behind her ear. Jena smiled. Her youngest had always twisted her hair when he needed comfort, even as a baby.