The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare (17 page)

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I’d made a promise to Bryce that I would introduce him to “my fella.” I explained I needed to take things slow, for both of us. We were solid, but I didn’t want the extra pressure of the hopes and dreams the townsfolk of Greer’s Rest seemed to be placing on us.

So, I first met up with my neglected friend, Rocky. She and Cosmo had officially moved into the apartment above my dad’s old office, and things were going well, thank God.

After ten years of being single, Rocky and I needed ways to fill our time. We went through the Grey’s Anatomy phase and the Sex in the City phase. But our favorite was the Gilmore Girls phase. Because, let’s face it, Derek in Grey’s, he was kind of a dick to Mer at times. Mr. Big? Carrie knew the kind of man he was, and yeah, he came through in the end, and, believe me, we enjoyed that journey, but it sucked. Now, Luke and Lorelai…

That was special.

Special because it was the kind of romance that didn’t involve cocktails or bomb scares. This was a single mom in a small town that took her and her daughter under their wings, and Luke adored her. He screwed up and she screwed up, but that last episode… I think we both cried for a week every time we talked about it. Happy tears, hopeful tears, tears that made me want to eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts and wash them down with a full pot of coffee.

So when Rocky explained, “You know, I’m surprised the town hasn’t started a ribbon thing like they did on the Gilmore Girls. Like a Team Gen and a Team Ahren.”

“They think we won’t make it?” I asked, appalled.

“No, man, they know you’re going to make it. They just want to be a part of it. It’s almost like you guys are keeping it from them. You don’t go to Brewster’s together, and he’s been spending weekends with you for a few months now.” Cosmo had gone up to their pad to get me a beer, so she took that opportunity to lower the boom. “They keep asking me for the inside scoop, and, honestly, Gen, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

I felt terrible for keeping the finer details from Rock. I hadn’t done it on purpose; it was just a lack of quality time together. We were both floating on the cloud of new-relationship heaven. I was busy, she was busy, and simply hadn’t taken each other’s pulse in a while.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Honestly, I guess I’ve been avoiding the emotional bombardment I know is coming. It’s inevitable. I know it’ll happen, but I’ve been putting it off.”

Cosmo had returned with my beer, and, knowing we were in the midst of a serious discussion, was about to leave the room.

“Dude, Cos, you do not have to make yourself scarce on my account. Seriously.” I smiled, letting him know I meant it.

He took a seat next to Rock as I continued.

“Eventually, when Ahren and I make a public appearance, the town will talk, and everyone will rejoice, and that is awesome. But they’ll also say things like, ‘Your parents are smiling down on you both,’ that sort of thing. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, Rock. I have no idea if that is going to set me off emotionally, and I won’t know until it happens. I think, for the moment, it’s too risky.”

“I get it, and I’ll say you two are busy getting reacquainted if anyone asks.” She grinned.

I had shared this fear with Ahren, not wanting to keep anything from him. Especially something like that. He wanted me to talk to someone, a professional, sooner rather than later.

He didn’t put pressure on me. He simply said, “It helped me.”

By late spring, I had taken Ahren to meet Bryce Oskin, who deemed the-boy-who-used-to-mow-his-lawn would have to do for me, since he was too old. “But if I were a few years younger, oh, you would have competition.”

The following visit to Bryce, he asked, “What’s on your mind, Cookie?”

It was then I explained my fears to Bryce.

“So what you’re sayin’ is, that you’re afraid that something might set you off, and instead of feeling everything, you’ll feel nothing?”

“I suppose that sums it up,” I answered with a mouthful of Cherry Berry cake.

“Cookie?” he began, and I stopped chewing. “You ever notice when people ask how you’re feeling, they don’t really give a shit?”

I tipped my head to the side and said, “Yeah.”

“They’re talkin’ and sayin’ what they think they should say. When my wife died, I got all sorts of greeting card shit, ‘She’s in a better place’, ‘She’s gone home now’, ‘She’s smiling down on you.’ I hated that shit. The only person who said something that meant anything was your gran.”

I slowly put my fork down.

“She was there, knew my wife.”

I wondered how I’d never meant the Oskins before.

He answered my question. “They both volunteered for some hospital thing up in Santa Rosa. She said, ‘There is not one thing I can say that’ll ease your pain, Mr. Oskin. Your wife was a genuinely nice woman, and I’m glad to have met her. I wish you and I could have met under different circumstances. I hope this day goes quickly for you.’ Now, your gran? She gave a shit. Just remember that, nine times outta ten, people are just talkin’ to hear themselves, or talkin’ because they think they should.”

He reached over and put his hand on mine.

“And Gen, if something happens, and it scares the fuck outta you, and you feel like you gotta shut down…that’s your heart protecting itself. The thing you need to realize is, it’s not your job anymore. That’s your fella’s job, and from what I can tell, he’s pretty happy to have it.”

I looked down at my half-eaten cake and replied, “I can’t eat cake and cry at the same time.”

“Seems like chicks always do that shit in movies.”

“Lorelai never did that.”

“Who’s Lorelai?”

I smiled at him, picked up my fork and started to eat my cake.

And after that, I stopped worrying.

*****

Ahren

It was Friday afternoon, and Ahren had just finished repairing the irrigation system in Delilah Von Kesteren’s garden. Of all the gardens his father had designed, hers was his favorite. There was no labor in the love he had maintaining it. He knew that each and every plant, tree, shrub, flower, and bush had been put there by his father’s hands. It kept him connected to his dad in a way that kept more than just his memory alive, like the perennials that came back year after year. It was one of the main reasons he tended Delilah’s garden, and though she always wanted to pay, he did it for free.

“Mister Finnegan?” Mrs. Smith called out from the distant deck.

He moved the small polished stones over the tiny black hose and made his way toward her voice.

When she was in his line of vision, he called up to her, “How are you, Mrs. Smith?”

She smiled brightly at Ahren. He had always known that Mrs. Smith was a woman who wanted something out of her life that she never did get and probably never would. She was settled. She loved her husband, but something was missing. She’d never mentioned children to him, and he thought that might be the source of whatever kept her from true happiness. Then again, some people were never satisfied, and he didn’t know her well enough to pry. Instead, he always flirted with her a little, paying her a compliment on how she wore her hair or if she’d done something different with it. He asked what perfume she was wearing, knowing that a woman liked when a man noticed things. His dad had taught him that.

“I just need to run down and fill this prescription for Delilah. I thought I’d done it already, but I just cannot seem to find it anywhere. I hate to ask, but do you mind keeping her company for about twenty minutes?”

“Take your time. In fact…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Maybe bring back something from Brewster’s?”

She smiled again and said, “I am not taking your money, Mr. Finnegan. But I’ll bring something that’ll make us girls gain weight, and you…well, I don’t know how your body converts high-calorie sugar into lean muscle mass, but your dad was exactly the same way.” She shook her head with a small giggle, and, under her breath, said, “And he looked good without a shirt, too.”

Ahren caught her comment and smiled to himself. He knew he looked just like his dad, and he had no problem finding a woman willing to sleep with him without saying a single word to her. Evidence pointed toward him not being unattractive, and being outdoors all the time helped him keep color on his skin year round. Since his dad’s heart attack, he was careful about his indulgences. He’d smoked when he was stressed, but since Gen was back in his life, he found he’d lost the taste for it. He also hiked along the river or up Mt. Tam when he went to see his parents. But in the last five months with Gen, he’d increased his baked goods intake by a thousand percent, which made him laugh out loud as he reached Delilah, looking out onto the deck wistfully.

“Mind if I keep you company?” he asked as he stood next to her wheelchair.

She lifted her head, but only slightly, and turned to look up at him. “Think you can pick me up?”

She sounded tired, and Ahren assumed she wanted to be taken to bed.

“I think I can manage.” he smiled .

“Help me with that wrap over there.”

He looked behind him and saw a thick, woolen throw or “wrap” as she called it.

Delilah arranged it over her shoulders and said, “I would really like to enjoy this sunshine sitting by the river in my garden. Think you can help me with that? The chair won’t fit, so you’ll have to carry me.”

“Of course. Just hang on tight. Mrs. Smith will kill me if I drop you.”

“Not likely,” she said, using all her strength to lift her arm to clutch her wrap. “She wouldn’t want to miss you taking your shirt off while working on these sunny days.”

He carried her with ease, moving carefully down the steps, and thinking the bag of mulch he carried from the truck was heavier than Delilah.

He lifted her onto the swing, where, months ago, he’d made love to Gen. They stole quiet moments there together when they had dinner with Delilah and Mrs. Smith. They now enjoyed a Sunday roast made by Mrs. Smith every few weeks, and while he and Gen loved their time with her, they both knew the dinners wouldn’t be forever.

“Thanks, Ahren,” she said quietly. She made herself comfortable, close to Ahren’s body and he didn’t mind at all. “When I came here from Arizona, I never thought I’d live this long. I just wanted to have a quiet life and surround myself with beauty. I was a teacher, you know. They were my kids. I once loved a man. He died in Vietnam. Or I assume he died. They never found his body. I could have found someone else to share my life with, but I always thought he would always be my second choice, and that didn’t seem fair. Then, I met a man, a local. We spent time together. He was happy to be my second choice, because he understood. He was a widower and I loved him… then I ended it. It was stupid of me. The thing was, he wasn’t my second choice. I was young enough then. I could have had that life…but I didn’t because I was afraid of losing someone I loved more all over again.” She turned to him and added, “I made the wrong choice. Genevieve is going to need you to be strong now, Ahren. Never let her go. Don’t give her the option.”

Her soft words sunk right into his heart and stayed there as he vowed, “I will never, ever let her go, Delilah. I promise.”

“Good. Just going to close my eyes for a bit,” she said, her words a whisper. “Your father created so much beauty, Ahren, and it’s sitting right here in this garden next to me on this swing.”

Only minutes later, as Ahren looked out onto the light dancing with the rippling current, the scent of blooms around him, he knew she was gone. He kissed the top of her head and held her close.

“Travel safe, Delilah.”

I arranged my hat and poked in one of my two hat pins to secure it in place. Ahren walked in and casually set down a glass in front of me. I could smell the whiskey when he came through the door and knew the potential burn it was going to cause when it hit my throat. I watched him in the mirror, the way his body moved under his jacket, and when he leaned to the side, I could see the clear outline of him. God bless boxers. I smiled to myself, embarrassed at where my mind went on a day like today.

He moved to stand between my legs, looking down at me.

“Ahren?” I warned. “Really? I mean, you know, funeral and all. No real time for jiggy-jiggy.” I went about sliding a pearl stud into one ear.

“Jiggy-jiggy?” he smirked, as he lifted a glass in tandem with an eyebrow and waited for me to take it.

“I don’t usually drink before work,” I said with a pause.

Work.

His voice was tender when he said, “Yeah, you’ve been putting on a brave face, but you know this is different. I thought this might take the edge off, and you and I could toast Delilah in private. You know, before you have to…work.”

“So you weren’t trying to have jiggy jiggy with me?” I set the glass down so I could put on my other earring.

“No, but if you think that’ll help take the edge off better than whiskey, I’m happy to oblige.” He grinned.

I once again picked up the glass and held it to await the inevitable clink. “To Delilah, one of our last touchstones.”

Ahren didn’t say a word. Mine were apparently enough.