CHAPTER 12
Luke slathered the last bit of chocolate frosting from the can onto the angel food cake. May’s birthday request. Luke hated canned frosting, but he wasn’t up for an attempt at homemade. Once all the crumbs were concealed under another layer of frosting, Luke checked in the family room to see who wanted to give the chocolate-covered spatula a lick.
“Hey, is that up for grabs?” Natalie peeked around the corner and snatched the spatula out of his hand. She was wearing her favorite pair of jeans, the ones with a hole in the knee that hugged her hips and rear in precisely the right way. A clingy blue V-neck T-shirt set off the deep blue of her eyes.
“Hey! I usually charge a kiss.” He laughed, pretending to reach for the utensil.
Natalie swiped a finger full of frosting into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she mumbled. “Totally worth it.”
“Pay up, hot stuff.” He took a step closer. She smelled like her favorite shampoo and body lotion. A smudge of frosting clung to the corner of her mouth. Luke wiped it away with his thumb, tipping her chin up at the same time. He’d loved that face almost as long as he could remember, and it only grew more beautiful with age. The fine lines on her forehead, between her eyes, and around her mouth were subtle, a delicate record in flesh of the life they’d lived together.
“I love you, Nat,” he whispered, watching her lips, wanting to kiss her as much as the first time he’d gotten up the nerve as an eighth-grade boy. He ran his tongue over his lips and met hers gently. They fit perfectly, her head tipped to the right, his to the left.
“I love you too,” she said, the words flowing out over his lips in a warm wave. Luke put his hand around her waist and pulled her in close, her body pressing against his. Her lips parted, and Luke’s fingers threaded through the loops on her jeans. She tasted like chocolate.
The doorbell rang in the background. Luke groaned as Natalie pulled away, placing one last kiss lightly on his tingling lips.
“You’d better get that,” she whispered and took another step back. Somehow Luke knew she wasn’t heading for the door.
“They can wait. Don’t go,” he begged, but her hand slipped out of his, their fingertips brushing as she backed away. The doorbell rang again. Luke ignored it. He wanted to go after her, but his feet wouldn’t budge. Natalie took another step backward and another, the darkness from the dining room swallowing her whole. “Natalie! No!”
A swirling blackness flooded in around him, touching his skin, filling his mouth with each breath until he couldn’t take in any more air. The room turned dark, and terror wrapped hands around his throat so he couldn’t scream.
A hand on his shoulder shook him, and Luke started awake. It took a moment to understand his surroundings. The family room, kitchen, door to the dining room, cake on the counter only half-frosted, Natalie’s latest letter across his chest.
“Daddy, everybody’s here.” May knelt beside him on the couch dressed in a blue tulle skirt and matching shirt with sequins. It was a present from Grandma Terry. Not something Luke would pick for a nine, almost ten-year-old girl, but May couldn’t resist the sparkles. Her hair hung over her shoulders in two semirespectable braids. It had taken months of practice, but he was getting close to proficient.
“Sorry; I dozed off.” He tugged on one of her braids affectionately. “You can get the door.”
“Will got it,” she chirped before kissing his cheek. The noise from the hall moved toward the back of the house. Annie stuck her head through the doorway.
“Hey there. Heard you fell asleep on the job.” She hugged a thin cardigan around her torso, far more dressed up than he was used to seeing her in his house. Her straight-legged jeans brushed the floor with each step, short hair pinned back from her face with bobby pins. Her eyes lingered on the letter pressed to Luke’s chest, and a little frown tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, sorry. I think I taste tested a little too much of the frosting and it put me in a sugar coma.” Luke laughed it off, trying to forget the very real dream he’d been sucked out of.
“That cake looks like it could use a little help.” This time her frown was playful. He glanced over at the white cake, half-covered in chocolate frosting with little bits of cake mixed in it.
“I never turn down free help,” Luke said, folding Natalie’s letter quickly and putting it in his front pocket.
“Free? Who said it’d be free?” Annie laughed. “Hey, do you have an apron?” She gestured to her fancy getup.
“I’m sure I still have some in one of the pantry closets. Let me look.” Luke crossed from the couch to the white bifold doors against the back wall of the kitchen, opened them, and rummaged through a box of fabric, pot holders, and bibs till he grabbed a long thin string of fabric that appeared to be an apron ribbon. “Here you go!”
Luke tossed the apron across the room and Annie caught it. She shook out the wrinkles from the oversize white apron and froze.
“Do you have another one?” Her voice quavered like she was about to cry. She turned the apron around. It was Natalie’s Mother’s Day apron, with all the kids’ hand- and footprints on it. They’d made it with Natalie’s mom before Clayton could walk. Luke turned away before he could remember the last Mother’s Day together before the diagnosis.
He cleared his throat and searched more carefully this time, selecting the apron he used when grilling. It said something stupid like “Kiss the Cook,” but it was better. May’s birthday was the first big family celebration since Natalie’s death, and though they were all putting on a convincing impression of having fun, the fewer reminders of what was missing, the better.
For Luke, remembering was hard in a different way. On days like today, Luke missed the old Natalie—his wife, mother of his children, the woman he thought he knew. But in order to miss her like that, he had to push all of his questions aside.
As for Andy Garner, Luke had gone as far as finding him on Facebook, but the guy’s account was set to private. He hadn’t come to the funeral, but Natalie used to take the kids to visit him. On Facebook, all Luke found was a picture of a man, who must be Andy, in a hat and sunglasses holding up a large silver fish. Dr. Neal, in contrast, remained a mysterious figure, and all efforts at digging up information had come to a halt as Luke focused on planning May’s party.
Suddenly Annie was beside him, a hand on his back between the shoulder blades. That was her normal spot now. Her liberally displayed affection used to bother him, but he was starting to remember how nice it was to be comforted by another living human. There’s only so much comfort that notebook paper could provide.
“I’ll put this back in here. It’s special. I wouldn’t want to get it dirty.” She placed the folded apron into the bin and slipped the new one over her head. “Besides, this is more my style, don’t you think?” She modeled the red-checkered apron with hands on her hips.
Luke chuckled. “Oh yes. Very chic.”
“Will you tighten this for me?” She’d already wrapped the strings around her waist three or four times and tied them in the front, but the neckline sagged low, providing little protection for her top half. Annie turned around and stared at her feet, exposing the metal buckle at the base of her neck. Luke took a step closer, suddenly overly aware of how she smelled like flowers. He wiped his hands on his pant leg and reached for the aluminum clip. As he grabbed it, Brian’s deep voice interrupted.
“Where do you want me to put this salad, babe?” Brian didn’t wait for a response and instead tossed a green plastic bowl on the kitchen island, where it bumped against the already pathetic cake. “Nice apron.” Brian laughed, making his way across the kitchen. He ran his index finger along the words printed on the fabric sagging across her chest. Kiss the Cook. Grabbing her chin roughly with his thumb and forefinger, Brian whispered, “Don’t mind if I do,” and planted one right on Annie’s mouth.
Annie’s head jerked back at first, but Brian didn’t seem to notice. He wrapped one hand around her waist, pulling her into him just like Luke had dreamed about doing with Natalie. It took Luke a moment to realize he was still holding the clip on Annie’s apron.
He dropped it and backed away, staring at the ground, wishing he didn’t feel a swell of jealousy in his chest. He told himself that he wasn’t jealous because Brian was kissing Annie. He was jealous because he could never kiss Natalie ever again.
Annie pushed Brian away, out of breath.
“Brian!” She slapped his shoulder. “There are children present!”
“Who, Luke?” Brian nuzzled Annie’s cheek with his nose. “I’m sure he’s figured out the birds and the bees by now.”
Annie glanced over her shoulder, cheeks flushed and worry lines around her eyes. Luke had become far too familiar with that look on her face. He was getting good at reading Annie. The more time they spent together, the less she felt like this image he had of Natalie’s best friend and the more she seemed like her own, three-dimensional person, a complicated puzzle for which he didn’t have all the pieces.
“There’s beer in the fridge if you need to cool down, loverboy,” Luke joked in an attempt to make Annie feel better. He’d never figured out the whole dude-bro thing, but he’d been around long enough to know how to fake it. “Annie promised to help me finish this cake.”
Brian spun Annie out like a professional ballroom dancer, and her laugh echoed through the kitchen. Clayton must’ve heard it from his bedroom because seconds later there was a chorus of stomping feet on the stairs.
“Annie!” A little blond head bobbed up and down in a blur through the kitchen, leaping into Annie’s arms. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, bud.” Annie kissed the top of his head and gave Clayton a hug that could crunch bones.
“It’s been less than a day. I don’t think that counts as long enough to miss someone,” Brian said under his breath.
“I missed you too, Mr. Brian,” Clayton said before shoving his pruned fingers in his mouth.
Brian cocked his head to the side like a dog hearing a sound for the first time.
“Huh?” He chuckled and ruffled Clayton’s hair. “I missed you too, kid.”
Annie smiled up at her husband in a way Luke had never seen. He’d seen embarrassed, entertained, happy, and annoyed, but at this moment she looked proud. Snuggling Clayton in tighter, Annie headed for the cake.
“You want to help me decorate May’s cake?” she asked. “I’ll let you lick the spoon.” Propped on Annie’s hip, Clayton nodded emphatically.
Brian stood in front of Luke, suddenly dropping his jokester demeanor.
“So, Luke, I have a huge favor to ask of you.” He’d found a beer from the fridge and opened it already. The way Brian emphasized “favor” made the muscles in Luke’s shoulders tighten.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I don’t know if Annie told you or not, but I’m interviewing for a new job right now.”
“A new job? Like a promotion within the police department?”
“No.” Brian took a swig. “Not with the police department at all. It’s with this private security company.” He smoothed out his button-up shirt—always put together, tidy, efficient.
“Oh, that sounds . . . great.” Luke raised his eyebrows and pretended he knew what a job in “private security” entailed.
“I’m trying not to get my hopes too high, but I’m pretty excited about the opportunity. More flexibility, more perks, more money.” He said the last part quietly.
Luke shuffled his feet and tried to figure out where the whole conversation was heading. “Sounds exciting,” was the best he could muster.
“It’s cool stuff, like Secret Service for rich people.” He finished off his beer in one long drink. “So, anyway, I needed some personal references, and it couldn’t be anyone from the station. I wondered if I could, maybe, put your name down? They might call you, ask some questions. You up for that?”
Brian placed a heavy hand on Luke’s shoulder, and Luke could see why the police officer was good at his job. If you’d committed a crime, Brian standing over you with his dark eyes, thick muscles, and knowing smirk would make you want to pee your pants. He wasn’t a man you said no to easily; besides, it sounded like the position would be good for Annie. No more late nights, less danger, better salary.
“Yeah. Sure. Put me down. I’d be glad to help out.”
“Great.” Brian slapped his hand down on Luke’s shoulder one more time. “They might not even call you, but if they do, let me know. Okay?”
Luke nodded as Annie walked up.
“Jessie’s here. Should we order the pizza?” she asked.
“I already did. I need to pick it up from Sammy’s. I’ve got a coupon somewhere.” Luke searched through the countless pieces of paper held to his fridge by various-size magnets. Natalie had a requirement for students who took a trip during the school year; they had to bring back a magnet for Mrs. Richardson. Over twelve years of teaching, she had quite a collection. She could tell the story behind each and every one. “You guys okay staying with the kids?”
“Uh, how about you give me the coupon, and I’ll pick up the pizza?” Brian yanked the slick square of paper out of Luke’s hand and pulled a large key chain out of his pocket. “I’m not much of a babysitter.”
“Sure.” Luke grabbed a couple of twenties out of his wallet and handed them to Brian. “That should cover it.”
“K. Shouldn’t take long.” Brian retucked his shirt into his belted jeans. He took one step and then turned, like he’d forgotten something. Grabbing Annie’s arm, he flipped her around and dramatically threw her toward the ground, his arm stopping her right before she hit the floor. Then he kissed her.
Will and May watched from the table with a chorus of “ewwwww,” which only seemed to encourage Brian to dip Annie down farther, like they were in a movie. When they finally parted, Annie was gasping, and the kids were laughing harder than they had in weeks. Luke wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but he could’ve sworn Brian gave him a little look after letting Annie go—a look that said, “I can do this because she’s mine.”
“That was so gross,” May said, still laughing. She was having fun on her birthday, and for a moment she wasn’t missing her mom. As Luke watched May, she caught his eye, and her smile fell. The room was filled with laughter and celebration, all for her, but her eyes were asking him a question—is it really all right to be this happy without Mom?
“It’s okay. Be happy,” Luke mouthed. Little pools of tears gathered on her lower eyelashes, and when she smiled, one tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly and laughed again when Will made exaggerated kissing sounds.
Jessie rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hey, guys! I have some party hats I brought for us to decorate. Let’s get started while we wait for the food?”
“Yay!” May shouted. Will rolled his eyes but was a good sport, putting Clayton in his booster seat before sitting next to Jessie, whom May was hugging while saying over and over, “Jessie, you’re the best. The best.”
“Do you think Jessie is ‘the best’?” Annie asked, turning her back to the table and straightening her smudged lip gloss with her index finger. Luke turned to face Annie. This close he could make out the color of her eye shadow, a light shimmering blue, and see the mole on her right cheek that she always tried to cover up with makeup. Today she was covering more than the mole. Luke could make out a dark spot on Annie’s cheek, covered by a heavy dose of concealer. He leaned closer; something about the coloring was familiar to him.
“Well, probably not the way I’d put it, but yeah,” he answered, distracted. “She’s been great.”
“So, you know she’s pretty sick, right?” Annie rolled a piece of paper towel between her palms. “Will said she can’t eat certain foods, takes all kinds of medicines, and I hate to say it, but sometimes she comes off as a little immature. Do you really think she’s up for taking care of these guys?” She folded her arms, waiting for Luke’s reply.
Luke cocked his head, trying to get a better look at what he was now sure was a bruise. It wasn’t just the mark on her face that startled him. Annie usually saw the best in people; her concerns about Jessie seemed very out of the blue.
He answered in slow, fragmented sentences. “She looks tired sometimes, but she’s good with the kids. Maybe a little immature, but she’s an only child and her mom died when she was twelve. She’s a grown woman. I’m not going to start telling her what she can and cannot handle.”
“Hmm, okay. I mean, nothing against the girl. She seems like a very genuine person, but I just want what’s best for the kids.” Annie turned to watch the kids at the table again. Jessie, wearing a Wicked T-shirt today, had five bottles of glitter, two bottles of glue, and a stack of multicolored paper. The kids were all in various stages of hat making, and Jessie was busy covering her fingernails in glue and glitter.
“Well, maybe she’s a little spacey and childish,” Luke agreed, “but . . . what happened to your face?” Luke reached out and brushed the discolored spot on Annie’s cheek. She flinched back.
“Nothing; I just slipped in the shower. I hadn’t put the rubber mat down . . .” She covered the side of her face with her hand. “Is it bruising badly?”
“No.” Luke shuffled closer, inspecting the injury with his experienced eye. As he searched for swelling, all those memories he continually tried to push away rose to the surface. His father’s booming voice shaking his bedroom door, his mom crying and begging him to stop, the garnet and gold class ring his dad wore on his left hand that left welts on his mom’s arms and legs and occasionally her face.
He dropped his hand. He didn’t like to let himself think about his father or how he had destroyed their family in that little house on Winter Lane. “Does it hurt? What about your head—any headaches or blurred vision?”
Annie shook her head. “Nope, I’m fine, really.” She swooshed her hands in front of her body like she was wiping the concerns away and then turned around, ending Luke’s inspection. “Here, can you tighten this?” She pointed to the buckle behind her neck that had never been adjusted. This time, Luke didn’t let himself think; he yanked the tail of fabric through the clip with a snap. Annie spun around. “By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice the letter you were clutching when I came in.” Annie raised her eyebrows, and Luke read the accusation in her pursed lips. She was deflecting any more scrutiny of the bruise on her face.
“I could tell you noticed.” Luke picked up the spatula Annie used to frost the cake and tossed it into the sink with a thud before turning on the water and grabbing a damp sponge. “I’m not trying to hide it from you. They help me, and I don’t think I should be ashamed of that.”
“I’m not trying to shame you,” Annie said as she appeared beside him at the sink. “But shouldn’t you at least try to find out where they are coming from?”
Luke breathed out slowly. These conversations with Annie were his least favorite. No matter how many times she said she wasn’t judging him, it still felt like she was.
“I visited the post office, talked to the manager. There’s no way to trace them. What else can I do? I’m not going to stop reading them, and I don’t know why you’d want me to.” Annie had come to the party with plenty on her mind and wasn’t holding back.
“I’m not trying to be cruel, Luke. I just don’t want you to get hurt or delude yourself into thinking Natalie is somehow still here.” She grabbed a neon-green sponge and scrubbed the spatula, rinsed it, and placed it into the drying rack before starting on the bowl, encrusted with cake batter.
“Well, maybe Natalie knew that someone as logical as me could use a little illusion or delusion or whatever you mean. The letters aren’t hurting me,” Luke said with finality. “And if we’re going to talk about someone getting hurt, let’s talk about—”
Annie wouldn’t let him finish. “Okay. I get it,” she said, passing him a bowl to dry. “I won’t bring it up again.” She blew at a bit of hair that had slipped out of her bobby pins, and pulled her shoulders back as she washed. “So, what were you and Brian chatting about over there?”
“He was asking me to be a reference for the new job.” When she didn’t say anything, Luke checked her face, wondering if the job was what had her acting out. “What? You’re not excited about it? I know, you’re worried you’ll miss getting out of tickets once your husband isn’t a police officer anymore, aren’t you?” Luke elbowed her side, trying to bring back playful Annie.
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.” She laughed halfheartedly and flicked a few soap bubbles at his face.
“Hey!” Luke held up a glass. “I’m working here.”
“I . . .” Annie cleared her throat, growing serious again. “I’m surprised he talked to you without me.”
“It’s not a big deal, Annie. We only talked for two minutes, tops. He seems really excited about this job.”
“Oh, he is.” She dried her hands with the dish towel and then threaded it through the drawer handle. When she looked up Luke tried to recall the meaning of her expression from his ever-growing dossier of Annie’s emotions but drew a blank. “I’m not. Moving away would be breaking my promise to Natalie. Those promises are very real to me. I can’t turn my back on them because he suddenly decides he wants a new career.”
The hair on Luke’s forearm stood on end. Move? Brian never mentioned anything about moving.
“Wait. What are you talking about? Where is this new job?”
“He didn’t tell you? Ugh. That man.” She started to push her fingers through her hair until she realized it was pinned back and ended up patting the swollen spot on her face instead. “DC,” she whispered. “The job is in Washington, DC.”
Luke felt his knees start to buckle. So this is what had Annie on edge, why she was worried about Jessie’s competence, his overreliance on Natalie’s letters. She was preparing to leave them.
Luke steadied himself as nonchalantly as possible, one hand on the counter, the other in his pocket. Washington, DC. Annie was right; this was definitely not in Natalie’s plans. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Why had he let himself become so dependent on her? Because Annie begged him to let her help? Because he needed someone in his life to help him and to talk to, who could share the day-to-day challenge of parenting grieving children?
God, now Clayton, who barely slept when he was home, had no problem sleeping when Annie put him down for a nap. And Will, who hardly showed his face outside of his room, much less made actual speaking sounds in Luke’s direction, texted with Annie daily and lit up when she walked in the room. And poor May would lose her only remaining mother figure. Who would she talk to about boys and puberty and . . . all those other things Luke had no idea about?
She could do all those things when she lived five minutes away, but not if she lived in DC. He couldn’t say any of that. This shouldn’t matter to him. Annie could move to Mongolia, and he should be happy for her.
“Don’t you worry about us.” Luke took a step back and put on his “I’m okay” face. He’d had lots of practice with this one and hoped it was convincing by now. “Natalie would want you to be happy.” Luke reached out and lightly patted Annie’s upper arm.
She shook her head. “Really? You’re fine with it too? I knew Brian wouldn’t get it, but I thought for sure you would.” She pressed her lips together till they blanched white. “I promised her, Luke. I’m not following some instructions in a letter.” She gave him a cutting look, and the words hurt like she’d scratched him with a knife. “I sat at her deathbed. I looked into her eyes, and I swore I’d be there for you guys.”
“Natalie is gone.” Luke sliced at the air. Annie was right; he played games with his own grief by indulging in the mysterious letters, but he didn’t want to condemn Annie to that prison. He looked around to make sure all the kids were involved with Jessie’s art project and then lowered his voice. “She is dead. She doesn’t care about us anymore because she doesn’t exist anymore.”
The words came out more bitter than he’d intended, and Annie recoiled. Damn it. Luke crunched his eyes closed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, almost hoping when he opened them she’d be gone. But she was still there, staring at him like she was trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.
She leaned toward him, whispering, her voice clogged with tears. “I don’t believe that. She’s watching over us; I know she is.” His arm was warm where she pressed against him, her biceps softer than he’d expected. He opened his mouth to tell her belief doesn’t change fact, but the front door slammed, making May squeal and Luke jump.
“Pizza!” May yelled, and a flurry of activity broke out across the room around the table; markers, glitter, and stickers were tossed into boxes and dropped on the floor to be picked up later. Brian stomped into the kitchen and tossed the stack of pizza boxes on the table.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Luke said, turning away from Annie to grab a spatula to serve the pizza. He could feel her watching him. He’d hurt her feelings; she wanted him to care that she might be leaving, might be breaking her promise to Natalie. He did care, but he couldn’t show it.
Instead, he busied himself by counting out seven paper plates from the dwindling stack on the counter and placing them on the table. Remnants of glitter were stuck to the wooden surface, and he didn’t bother to wipe them off. May would think they were festive.
As the room filled with the warm scent of garlic and melted cheese, each person settled into his or her own spot at the table. Annie was the last person to join them, dragging out the chair closest to Brian. Clayton climbed on her lap, reminding Luke of a needy little dog. Annie casually wrapped one of her arms around his midsection. Clayton put his head on her shoulder and gently patted Brian’s arm. Luke had to look away.
May smiled through the rest of the party, and Luke tried to find comfort in that. He’d told her she was allowed to be happy; he had to pretend to be happy too, but he was far from happy.
Part of the heaviness holding him down came from all the reminders of Natalie. Yet that ache wasn’t as profound as he’d feared it would be, almost as though he was adjusting to the pain, like when your eyes adapt in a darkened room. Underneath this understandable sadness was a simmering anger.
It had been five months—five. He was finally starting to get the hang of life, or at least parts of it, and Annie was a big reason behind the transition. Natalie knew Annie was integral to their survival. That’s why she’d acquired promises, sent Luke letters, made plans. How dare Brian go and mess that up? Luke was also mad at himself. Why did he tell her it was okay to go?
And then of course there was that last worry, the one he’d been telling himself was nothing, the one that had to do with the mark on Annie’s face that he couldn’t stop looking at. Was Annie’s reluctance connected with the reason for her injury?
Out of the corner of his eye, Luke watched Annie as she shoveled a giant bite of cake into Clay’s mouth, frosting smudging on his chin. She erased it with the quick swipe of a napkin. He chewed slowly, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel gathering nuts. Once his face was clean, Annie gave him a little peck on the top of the head, and he snuggled on her shoulder, swallowing loudly. Brian’s arm draped around the back of Annie’s chair, absently stroking her arm as he read through his phone.
Annie caught his eye and gave him a morose smile, and Luke knew—she was going to leave. Even if he asked her to stay, it wouldn’t make a difference because no matter how much Annie loved Natalie and the kids, she’d never go against Brian. Never.