CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dawn was just breaking, and the imposing, arched front door had never looked forlorn to me before this moment. But now I could swear there was a melancholy air in the way it seemed to frown at me as I rang the doorbell.
My mother answered the door with red, unfocused eyes. Her brassy hair was twisted in a careless ponytail and she seemed small in her leggings and bare feet.
“Audrey,” she said with a rasp in her voice that came from too much crying. “Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”
I stepped over the threshold, slightly hurt that she thought I might not be here, that part of her still assumed I was the unreliable girl who wouldn’t care enough to stand beside her family on a day like this.
“Where’s William?” I asked, looking around the empty grand foyer.
She sighed and closed the door. “Your father’s with him. The accident . . . well, it was gruesome. Her car was crushed, and they believe she died on impact. But someone needed to make a positive identification, and William wanted to see her. William already called Jennifer’s mother in Portland.”
Her voice broke a little over this last sentence and she put a shaking hand to her mouth, correctly figuring her own pain was nothing compared to that of the woman who would need to bury a beloved daughter.
I touched her arm in comfort. “Where are the boys?”
My mother pointed. “In the den. They’re exhausted. I tried to get them to sleep but they don’t want to.”
I swallowed. “Do they know?”
She closed her eyes briefly and looked every day of her age. “They know.” She twisted up a tissue in her hands and walked over to the big bay window. Her voice was little more than a whisper and I wasn’t even sure if she meant to speak aloud. “No matter what I’ve said about her, I never would have wanted this. Never would have wanted this for those babies.”
I struggled not to cry. “Nobody would have wanted this, Mom.” After setting my purse down, I walked down the hall to the den, where I knew the lone television in the house was kept these days. The echoes of my footsteps on the marble floor seemed hideously loud to me.
The boys were sitting side by side on the huge cream-colored leather sofa. Their eyes tracked a garish collection of characters capering across the TV screen, but the sound was too low to hear what was going on. I doubted they were really watching the program. They looked too stunned.
“Leo?” I said softly. “Isaac?”
Leo turned his head and just stared at me, but Isaac’s face crumpled and he shot off the sofa and into my arms. I picked up the heavy, heartbroken little boy and carried him over to an armchair. Leo watched us from the sofa, and I held out a hand to him, but he simply turned his eyes back to the television.
Isaac sobbed and I rocked him like a baby as my own heart broke thinking of what my nephews must be feeling right now. My mother had already told me the story on the phone.
When Jennifer hadn’t picked up the boys by seven, the daycare provider called William, thinking something must be wrong. She was never this late when picking up her sons after work and she wouldn’t have forgotten to call if something urgent came up. William told the babysitter he would come pick up the boys right away and then track down Jennifer. He was walking out to his car when a police officer, a friend of his, stopped him in the parking lot. The officer said he didn’t know much, just that there’d been an accident. At that point William called my mother to ask her to please pick up Isaac and Leo. He wanted to make sure they were among family if the news about Jennifer was bad.
It had taken a long time to clear the scene of the accident because a fatality required an immediate investigation. I shuddered as I thought of how I’d casually glanced toward the freeway and saw the lines of unmoving traffic, never guessing the true and horrifying cause of it all.
For hours William languished in the hospital awaiting word on his ex-wife, the mother of his beloved sons. Maybe he held on to a tiny splinter of hope in all that time. Or maybe he understood that when she never reached the trauma center, it was because she couldn’t be saved. The crack in my heart widened as I imagined my big brother’s agony.
A shadow fell and I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway. She watched me as I rocked the sobbing Isaac, then she sighed and went over to the couch to sit beside Leo. She’d never been naturally affectionate with her children or her grandchildren, but nothing was typical about today. After a moment the boy rested his head against his grandmother’s shoulder and she slowly put her arm around him and kissed the top of his head.
My mother’s eyes met mine and I knew we were thinking the same thing. The boys were so young. No matter how much love and support I gave Leo and Isaac, or how much my parents could even give, there would forever be a painful void where their mother should be.
Then I thought of Jennifer Kaufman Gordon, the pretty, vivacious girl who had clung to my handsome brother’s arm on their wedding day.
Jennifer, the new mother, who stared down into the face of her first newborn baby with such an expression of serene awe and total love it was tough to look away.
Jennifer, the woman who beamed with pride every time her eyes landed on her sons.
Jennifer, who looked at me with pleading eyes and asked me not to despise her. I never had. She was my family and I loved her.
Goodbye, my sister.
The boys had been up all night, and now that the shock was wearing off, they agreed to try to get some rest. My mother tried to steer them to the guest room, but Isaac said he was afraid of the white filmy drapes so I brought them to my old bedroom instead.
Luanne had arrived at the house moments earlier and she brought me some extra pillows. Her broad, kind face looked on the boys with pity, and before she left the room, she told me not to hesitate to ask for anything else.
Leo was yawning as he kicked his shoes off, and he curled up into a ball, eyes already closed before I tucked the lavender comforter around his thin shoulders, while Isaac’s bright eyes regarded me silently from the pillow beside his brother.
“Auntie Audi, will you be here when I wake up?” he asked.
I kissed his forehead. “I’ll be here, Isaac.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. You get some rest now.”
He turned to his side, resting his chubby, tearstained cheek against the pillow. He didn’t shut his eyes, though. “Will I see my mama there?”
“Where, baby?”
“In my dreams.”
My throat threatened to close up with anguish as I searched for an answer. Who has the ability to explain life and death to a five-year-old? I didn’t know how much he understood the finality of it all. But I knew that right now I could let him have a little hope that he might dream of his mother.
“Sometimes in our dreams we’re able to see what we wish for the most,” I told him.
Isaac was satisfied enough with that answer to close his eyes. I listened for a few minutes to the deep, even breathing of my nephews, and then I quietly turned on the ceiling fan and left the room.
After spending a few minutes searching all the predictable rooms where I might find my mother, I finally located her in my father’s study. She was standing by the long narrow window and peering into the backyard.
“Are they asleep?” she asked without turning around.
“I think so.”
“That’s good.” She set down the empty wineglass she’d been holding. “I think we’ll need to refinish the pool after the summer.”
I stood right behind her. “Mom?”
“I know no one cares about the pool right now, Audrey. I was just thinking out loud.”
I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed for a solid ten seconds.
“What was that for?” she asked, twisting around and looking slightly bewildered.
“Because you’re my mom and I love you.”
Her face, pinched with grief and fatigue, relaxed into a smile. “I haven’t heard you say that since you were a little girl.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. “It never stopped being true.”
She turned all the way around, opened her arms, and held me as I cried for Jennifer, for William, for the boys, for all the tragic and terrible things that can happen with no warning.
My father called a short time later to say that he and William were at the police station. He’d received word from one of his police department contacts that the driver who’d entered the freeway in the wrong direction and cost Jennifer her life was drunk at the time and would most likely be charged with vehicular manslaughter. He expected they might not be home for another few hours.
“Did he say how William was?” I asked my mother when she hung up the phone.
“He’s in shock.” She rubbed her eyes. “I think we all are.”
“Did he mention anything about the funeral plans?”
“No. I’m not sure if he’s even thought of it yet.”
Luanne came into the room and softly asked my mother if she wanted to make a list of foods the boys might eat. She said she’d go out to the grocery store before they woke up. After the two women left the room, I sat in my father’s armchair, which smelled of leather with a vague hint of lemon. My phone was in my back pocket so I made a call, unsurprised when voicemail picked up.
“Jason, it’s me. You’re probably still asleep. I need to take a few days off, which will of course leave you handling the courthouse project alone.” I swallowed, choking a little on the next words. “My sister-in-law was killed in a car accident last night. Jennifer. She was the mother to two beautiful little boys. I’ll send an email to management to let them know what happened, and I’ll keep you updated. I’m sorry if all the extra work puts you in a tight spot. There’s just one more thing I wanted to tell you . . . I really wish I’d gone home with you last night.”
I ended the call on that abrupt note because I was having trouble talking now. The grief threatened to boil over in great heaving gasps, and I put my head down on my father’s desk until I could breathe. I’d been a fool believing there would be time to reconcile old hurts, to show the people I cared about how I felt. I forgot that time is not required to cooperate. Time owes us nothing. If we don’t seize those moments, then they might be lost forever.
“Audrey?” My mother’s concerned voice hovered above me. I hadn’t heard her return to the room. When I lifted my head, she gently pushed a strand of hair out of my face. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
“I’m sure you’re more exhausted than I am, Mom.”
She shook her head stubbornly. People always said how much we looked alike, but I didn’t see the resemblance often. It was only apparent to me at odd moments out of nowhere and for no reason. Like now.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to sleep. There’s nothing you can do right now. Might as well get some rest.” She touched my cheek. “Please. It would make me feel better to know that at least one of my children is having a few moments of peace.”
Reluctantly I agreed to go to my room and stretch out on the king-sized bed beside the boys. I promised Isaac I’d be right there for him when he woke up anyway. I curled my arm protectively across the sleeping bodies of my sweet nephews and pressed my cheek into the cool pillow. I didn’t really mean to fall asleep, but the next thing I was aware of was that the light in the room had changed. The sun was sharper. I thought I heard male voices murmuring in the distance.
After peering carefully at the boys and feeling satisfied that they were both still sound asleep, I eased out of the bed, noticing how Isaac had burrowed against his big brother. I blew them a silent kiss before I left the room and hoped that they could feel that love wherever their dreams were taking them.
I followed the voices of my parents until I found them in my father’s study. For once my father wasn’t neatly shaved and composed. He leaned on the back of his desk chair with wisps of his gray hair falling aside to reveal a pink scalp. He looked old and uncertain. My mother stood beside him with her hand on his back. They had been discussing placing Jennifer’s obituary notice in the largest local news outlet but stopped talking as soon as they heard me approaching.
“You okay, Dad?” I asked.
His face was a patchwork of wrinkles I couldn’t remember seeing before. “I’ve been better, Audrey.”
I would have gone to him and offered a hug if he’d moved an inch, but he just gazed at me as if wondering what I was doing in his study at this time of the day. William was nowhere in sight, and I was about to ask where I could find him when my mother spoke up.
“Jason was here,” she said.
“Jason?” I was startled. “My Jason?”
She nodded. “He came to offer his condolences. I know he really wanted to see you, but when I told him you were sleeping, he didn’t want to disturb you. He also said you shouldn’t worry about work. He’ll make sure everything gets taken care of, and you ought to take as much time off as you need.”
My phone was on my father’s desk where I’d left it earlier. I picked it up and saw that Jason had tried to call several times. “That was nice of him,” I said, “to stop by like that.”
A vague smile tilted my mother’s lips. “It was, yes. Jason made me promise to let him know if there was anything he could do. I know it’s just something people say in times like these, but he sounded sincere.”
“I’m sure he was,” I said. I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that Jason had shown up at my parents’ door. I longed to talk to him, to be in his arms, more than anything. Every instinct begged me to dial his number and immediately connect to his voice. But there was someone else I needed to talk to before I could seek any comfort for myself.
“Where’s William right now?” I asked.
My father answered first. “Probably still down in the kitchen. Luanne thinks she can solve his problems with some scrambled eggs.”
“She’s just trying to help, Aaron,” my mother said.
He made a disgusted noise. “Yeah, everyone’s trying to help. And no one really can.” He sighed and walked over to the built-in cabinet where he kept a variety of liquor bottles. When I was sixteen he’d added a lock to it, a lock I knew how to pick if I was determined and hard up for a drink. It appeared that he didn’t lock it anymore. Of course he wouldn’t need to. I hadn’t lived here in years.
“I’m going to find William,” I said, and left the room.
He wasn’t in the kitchen after all. He was wandering around the hallway near my bedroom looking like a confused, ashen-faced apparition.
“Hey there, Aud,” he said as if we’d just run into each other somewhere, as if this wasn’t the worst day of his life.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, and my brother’s face crumpled the way it did when he was eleven and I was six and he had to tell me that our puppy had run away from him on an evening walk and was attacked by a coyote.
I hugged him without hesitation and felt his shudder of grief before he pulled away.
“Where are the boys?” he asked.
I pointed. “Sleeping in my old room.”
He nodded vaguely. “Good. It’s good that they’re sleeping. How are they?”
I answered honestly. “Crushed.” I sighed. “What are you going to do about the funeral arrangements?”
He brushed the back of his hand across his face. “Jen told me once that she wanted to be cremated. She wanted her ashes returned to her hometown and scattered at sea.”
“In Oregon?”
He nodded. “Small town on the coast called Lincoln City. The family still has a home there. Jen’s mother told me over the phone that she’ll plan a small service. I’ll be bringing the boys, of course. They deserve a chance to say goodbye to their mother.”
“When?”
William frowned. “Soon. I have a friend, an attorney, whose family owns a funeral home, who offered to expedite the cremation process. The paperwork has already been taken care of and the . . . uh, remains will be ready by Monday.”
I winced over the way his voice cracked over the word remains. I couldn’t even guess how painful this was for him. I touched my brother’s arm.
“I’ll come with you,” I offered. “I can help with the boys. I want to be there. For all of you.”
I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t just making a gesture out of grim obligation. All the work responsibilities I’d been prioritizing for so long had turned laughably trivial. My heartbroken family needed me, and there was nothing more important.
He stared at me for a moment. “Thank you, Audrey. I’d like that. And I know the boys would too.”
William carefully opened the door to my old bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed staring at his sleeping sons, perhaps wondering how he was going to raise them singlehandedly from now on. I wanted to tell him that he’d never be alone. I would do anything for him, for them. But I hesitated to speak out loud and risk waking the kids, so I gently closed the door as William pulled a chair beside the bed to wait for his little boys to wake up.
On the other side of the closed door I stood for a moment, resting my forehead against the cool wood.
I found my mother in the library, but the glass doors were shut and she was speaking rapidly into her cell phone, perhaps making calls to distant relations to give them the awful news. She saw me standing outside the room and raised her eyebrows, the phone slipping from her ear. But I gave her a tiny smile to let her know that all was calm for the moment, and she returned to her conversation.
Distant sounds floated from the kitchen, but I knew I wouldn’t find my father hanging out in there with Luanne. He was right where I’d left him in his study, in the middle of opening a bottle of Crown Royal. He looked up when I hovered in the doorway.
“You want a glass?” he asked, holding the bottle aloft. “If there was ever a day that warranted a drink, this is it.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to backslide.”
He shrugged, apparently failing to realize that I was using his words, repeating what he’d said to my mother when I overheard their conversation the night I brought Jason to dinner.
“Suit yourself,” he said, filling his own glass about halfway.
I cleared my throat. “Did William talk to you about Jennifer’s funeral plans?”
My father took a sip, grimaced, and exhaled thickly. “Something about bringing her ashes to Oregon. It would be much easier to hold a service here. He should think of the boys.”
“I believe he is thinking of the boys,” I replied a little sharply.
My father ignored the comment and peered out the window at the vast and impeccable backyard.
“The thing to do,” he said authoritatively, “is to ensure life returns to its everyday routine as soon as possible.”
“Dad,” I said wearily. “Nothing is ever going to be routine again, not for William or for Leo or for Isaac.”
He took another sip from his glass. “I understand the heartbreak of Jennifer’s death. We don’t get to choose our challenges or tragedies, but we are able to choose how to respond. And at the risk of sounding clichéd, life does go on.”
I hated his dismissive tone. “Yes, life goes on. But sometimes things happen that change the course of your life. And there’s no shame in grieving.”
He sounded annoyed. “Of course not. Don’t twist my words, Audrey. Grieving is healthy. Wallowing is not. I would have thought you’d learned that by now.” He snorted. “Lord knows you’ve had plenty of practice.”
I was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes were narrowed as he looked at me, and I shrunk back a little over the bitterness I saw there. “Do you have any idea what you put us through, Audrey? In and out of rehab, no respect for your family or yourself. You never had the courage or the character to pick yourself up, so the rest of us had to do it for you. It was exhausting.”
I found myself leaning against the doorframe for support. All that struggle, all these years, and then sobriety and success. And yet in my father’s eyes I was still a teenage fuckup who stole from his liquor cabinet and mortified the family at my high school graduation party. I’d already suspected as much. But hearing him say it to my face was something else.
“Aaron.”
My mother’s voice had come from behind me. Her face was flushed, her eyes two bright points of anger.
“Don’t,” she barked at him. “Not today.”
He sighed and looked at her with some contrition as he set his glass down. “You’re right, Cindy. I shouldn’t have said that right now. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t clear whether he was apologizing to me for his brutal words or apologizing to my mother for picking a scab off an old wound on a day that was already terribly painful. This wasn’t even remotely the right time to have this conversation. It should have taken place years ago. But I wasn’t willing to let the subject drop without saying my piece. I realized my hand had drifted up to touch my lip, right where it had split and bled the one and only time he had ever hit me in a fit of rage, after I told him to go fuck himself.
“You’re one to lecture about wallowing,” I said. “You’ve never been able to abandon your anger and disappointment. You’ve never forgiven me, Dad, no matter how hard I try. And now I know you never will.”
He picked up his glass again and took another drink before answering. It was nearly empty. He’d need to refill it soon. When I searched my memory, it seemed there was hardly an occasion when he didn’t have a goddamn glass of liquor in his hand.
The look my father gave me next wasn’t exactly tender, but it was no longer hostile either. “You’re my daughter, Audrey,” he said sternly. “In spite of everything, I love you.”
I digested his statement and nodded. “Well, if that’s the best you can do, then I guess I’ll take it. I love you too, Dad. Also in spite of everything. But while we’re having an honest discussion about character, you may want to examine why in thirty years I’ve never known you to make it through a day without the aid of a drink. It can be genetic, you know. Alcoholism.”
My father said nothing when I walked away, heading for the backyard, but my mother followed.
“Audrey.”
I stopped at the French doors and turned around to face her. I was so used to seeing her in heels I’d forgotten that she was three inches shorter than me.
My mother touched a gentle hand to my cheek. Her lips parted as if she was on the verge of speaking, but no sound came out, and after a few seconds she took her hand away.
“Are you coming to Oregon?” I asked her. “I already told William I’d go.”
A slight frown crossed her face. “I’m not sure I can be away from the hospital for that long.”
“Of course,” I said tightly, unsurprised by the answer. After all, we were Gordons. Even in the wake of disaster, work was still a priority.
“On second thought, I can justify taking a week off right now,” my mother said after a pause. “After all, I’m retiring next year anyway, so they’ll need to get used to functioning without me.”
I smiled. “William will be glad. He’s with the boys right now, but I’ll talk to him in a little while and start making the travel arrangements.”
She glanced behind me. “Were you going outside?”
“Yes. I need to call Jason.”
Her eyes brightened. “I like Jason. I should have mentioned that.”
“I’m happy you mentioned it now.”
My mother bit the corner of her lip and crossed her arms over her chest as if she were either cold or nervous. “I’m proud of you, Audrey. I’m proud that you’re my daughter. I should have mentioned that too.”
The words surprised me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been longing to hear them all these years.
“Thank you for telling me, Mom,” I said, trying to suppress the quaver in my voice.
She smiled up at me. “Go call Jason. I’m sure he’s sitting by the phone.”
My mother might have been right about Jason waiting to hear from me. He picked up on the first ring.
“Sorry I missed seeing you earlier,” I told him as I sat down on a stone bench in the orchard, appreciating the shade offered by the dense citrus trees.
“I could come back,” he offered.
I glanced across the yard at the house, staring at my closed bedroom window where William was waiting for his children to wake up. “It’s probably not a good time. The boys will be awake soon, and I need to start making travel arrangements.”
Jason paused. “Where are you going?”
“Oregon. To Jennifer’s hometown. She told William once that she wanted her ashes scattered in the sea. We’ll be leaving as soon as possible.” I swallowed and ran my fingers along the rough surface of the bench. “Jason, I can’t say for sure when I’ll be back at work. I’ll try to return by Thursday.”
“To hell with work.”
“But we’ve got all that subcontractor paperwork to approve and a big progress report to hand over to the county this week and—”
“And I’ll handle it,” he said tersely. “I’ll make sure it all gets done, Audrey. Just be with your family.”
I sighed. “Okay,” I said with some reluctance. “Give me a call if you have any questions or if you have trouble finding the documents you need.”
“I’ll do that.” He paused. “I really wish I were coming with you.”
I was startled. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jason would want to accompany me on this sad mission. Of course it was out of the question. Someone had to stay behind and manage the courthouse project. In spite of this heartbreaking tragedy, there was still a job to do.
“I wish that were possible,” I told him, and meant it as I suddenly ached to be enclosed in the comfort of his arms.
“How about if I flew out just for a day?” he suggested.
“Better not,” I said, thinking of the long task list for the upcoming week. “There’s too much to do at work. You need to be there, not hanging out with me in Oregon. This is the point where you thank me for delegating, Jason.”
Jason’s exhale sounded slightly exasperated. “Whatever you want,” he said.
I picked at the frayed knee of my jeans. They were a really old pair. I’d thrown on the first clean thing I could find this morning. “My mother likes you,” I said. “She told me.”
“Yeah?” He sounded pleased.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I like you too.”
“It does feel good to be liked,” he said with a touch of wryness. Then his voice changed, deepened. “And Audrey, you already know I’m over the fucking moon about you.”
I closed my eyes. “Jason? I have another favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. “Please don’t fall in love with anyone else while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, and now it sounded like he was smiling. “I haven’t yet come across a woman who could compete with Audrey Gordon.”