Beyond Tuesday Morning (11 page)

“You said it killed you.”

Eric opened the slider and looked at Clay over his shoulder. “It did.” He exhaled through pursed lips. “When I realized I wasn't her husband, things changed between us. I was a married man, so loving her went from being the thing I was trying to remember to something I could never do.” He leaned against the door frame. “Yes, it killed me to leave her. Not because I was in love with her or her daughter, but because I knew how alone they would be.”

“Hmmm.” They stepped outside. Smoke curled up from the sides of the barbecue. A hundred feet away Josh was bent over the garden next to Laura. Clay didn't look for too long. “What was her name?”

“Doesn't matter. I don't like talking about her.”

“Sorry. I guess I always wondered.”

“It's okay. I was kind of mysterious about her when I came home. I figured no one needed to know.”

Clay let that sit for a minute. “You ever call her, to see how she's doing?”

“Nope, can't do that either. God had a very clear reason why I wound up in her house. But when I left, both of us knew we wouldn't see each other again. It was how we wanted it.” He lifted the barbecue lid. “I have a new life, one I wouldn't trade for the world. I could never love anyone but Laura, so you see, there's no room for looking back.” He poked at the steaks. “The good-bye we said that last day at the airport was final.”

Clay stared at the steaks, sizzling and deep brown at the edges. Two minutes passed, maybe three. “But you think about her, right? Once in a while?”

“Once in a while.” Eric sprinkled salt on the meat. “She was incredible, Clay. More strength than any woman I've ever known. She loved me unconditionally. We helped each other find a friendship with God. Pretty heady stuff.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Very.” Eric smiled, his eyes distant. “I'm never sure which was the bigger miracle. That I came home completely in love with my wife, anxious to spend time with Josh, a changed man, really.” He looked at Clay. “Or that I was able to walk away from Staten Island.”

Laura and Josh were approaching them, carrying a big bowl of zucchini and strawberries. Laura smiled first at Eric, then at Clay. “Josh says he gets the strawberries.” She stopped and hugged Clay. Her eyes were serious, concerned. Probably because of the gunfight. “How are you?”

“Fine.” He cleared his throat. The conversation about Staten Island was over, and he could sense from his brother's body language that Eric was glad. Clay doubted they'd ever talk about it again.

Josh moved in beside Eric and, under Eric's guidance, the boy began turning the steaks. Laura was persistent. “I was so worried about you, Clay.”

Of course she was. She still cared about him, the same as always. The fact that they'd crossed a line or two back in the months after the terrorist attacks probably never figured into her thinking.

She took a nearby chair, her brow knit together. “We watched it on TV and they showed your car.” Laura put her fingers over her mouth. “Clay, it was awful. I can't believe you didn't get hit.”

“I was praying big time.” Clay took the chair opposite Laura. The smell of the steaks filled the air. Dinner would be nice, and then he'd be on his way. Until then, this was good; keeping his thoughts on the current day, the matters at hand. “I was on the floorboard and I could hear him coming closer. He'd already fired at me, so I knew he wanted to take me down.”

Josh's eyes got wide. “That's crazy.”

“It was.” Clay worked his fingers into the muscles at the back of his neck. “I was asking God for a way out, and all of a sudden I knew. If I didn't look over the dash and at least try to stop the guy, I'd be dead in a few seconds.”

Laura shuddered. “I haven't stopped thanking God ever since I heard.”

“Dad says you're a good shot.” Josh grinned at him. “All the kids at school thought it was way cool that you are my uncle.”

Clay felt himself relax. How could he need a break from this? His family loved him, cared about him. “Thanks, Josh.”

“Well—” Eric turned and looked at them—“Josh is doing wonders with the steak. We'll be ready in about five minutes.”

Laura popped up and headed for the patio door. “I'll have everything ready inside.” She looked at Clay. “Come help me.”

He could hardly say no. He followed her into the kitchen as a memory came screaming back at him. After the Twin Towers collapsed, Laura had been frozen with shock. For five days she did little more than stare at the television and wait for Eric's call. From the first day on, the kitchen—this same kitchen—had been his territory. He made all meals, fed Josh, and helped the boy with his homework.

“You're quiet today.” Laura led the way and handed him the bowl of zucchini. “Wash and slice. The pan's on the stove.” She took up her position beside him and began rinsing the strawberries. “You sure everything's okay?”

Her chatter interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the here and now. Where he wanted to stay, no matter how much his heart refused to cooperate with him. The whole thing was ridiculous. He grabbed a zucchini from the bowl. “I'm fine. Just thinking about New York, I guess. I'm anxious to go.”

“Eric was saying something about that.” She set into a routine, rinsing a berry, pulling the stem from the top, and tossing it into a china bowl next to the sink. “I think it'll be good for you, Clay.” Her eyes met his. “You need something different.”

Clay held her gaze. Was she talking about having time away from them, time to find a life of his own? He wanted to ask, but he was afraid of where the conversation would go. “Yeah.” He looked back at the vegetables. “The change'll do me good.” He finished washing and sliced them into a pan already seasoned with oil. “They're making me a detective when I get back. That's the good news.”

“Really?” Laura grinned at him over her shoulder. “Congratulations!”

“The time in New York will get me ready.” He put the lid on the zucchini. “Funny how things work out.”

Laura put the bowl of berries on the table and cleared away Josh's homework. “Could you hand me four plates?”

“Sure.”

“They're in the—” Her eyes caught his. “I guess you know where they are.” This time something in her expression told him he'd been right earlier. He must've been.

Again the motions were familiar. Reaching for the right cupboard, finding the plates as easily as if they were his own. He decided to take a chance. “It feels funny, working in here again. Brings back a lot of memories.”

He felt Laura come a few steps closer, felt her wait until he was looking at her. “I couldn't have gotten through it without you.” She tilted her head. “But sometimes I worry about you, Clay.”

“Why?” He forced a laugh. He took the stack of plates and passed them to her. He tried not to notice the way their fingers brushed against each other in the transition. “The police work, you mean. The danger?”

“No.” Her eyes were softer than before. “I've been praying for you, do you know that?”

“Since the shooting?”

“No.” Her voice was clear and quiet and her eyes reached all the way to his soul. “Since Eric came home.” She set the plates in a stack on the table. “I want you to find someone, Clay. If …”

He took a step closer. “Go ahead. Say it, Laura.”

She let out a small sigh and looked at the floor. When she looked up he knew for certain that she understood how he felt—that he had no intention of coming between her and Eric, but somehow that wasn't enough to stop him from caring about her. Sometimes too much.

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then released it. “If Eric hadn't come home, I'd be your wife by now. I believe that, Clay. You're a wonderful man, and I was falling hard for you when Eric came home. We both know that.”

“Does Eric?”

“Yes.” She stared at the ceiling and drew in a slow breath. “My marriage to Eric was a formality, it was all but over when he left for New York that September day. He knew that.” She looked at him again. “You know what he told me?”

Clay wasn't sure he wanted to know. “What?”

“He told me if he hadn't survived, he would've wanted you and me together.”

Clay had no idea how to react. He searched Laura's eyes for a minute and then walked past her. He grabbed a handful of forks and knives and carried them to the table. Then he turned to her again. “So that's why you think I need a change of scenery?” He wasn't mad. He simply wanted to know her feelings.

“I have Eric. Things are different for me.” She took a stack of napkins from the counter and placed them one per setting. When she was finished she found his eyes again. “But if I didn't, if I were in your place, I'd still be in love with you, Clay. That's how strongly I felt for you.” She gave him an understanding smile. “Sometimes I catch you looking and I wonder … if maybe you still feel that way about me.”

“I don't. I—” Clay stopped himself. Her eyes told him instantly that she didn't believe him. “Laura, I wouldn't do anything to come between you and Eric.”

“I know that.”

“I hate that I think about you at all.”

“Thanks.”

He sat on the arm of the closest chair. “You know what I mean. I want to forget those three months ever happened.”

“Really?” Laura gave him a small grin.

“Come on, Laura, quit kidding.” He chuckled. “It isn't good for me to remember it. I'm happy for you and Eric, but sometimes … yeah, sometimes I wonder. And when I do, I beat myself up trying to forget you were ever more than my brother's girl.”

She lowered her chin. “That's why I'm praying for you. New York's a vibrant place, from what I hear. Why don't you go there and do something crazy? Meet a perfect stranger and ask her for a walk in Central Park. I don't know.” Laura ran her hand over her straight blonde hair. “God has a plan for you, Clay. Maybe New York is part of it.”

The patio slider opened, and Josh led the way with the platter of steaks. “Dad says I'm ready for Beverly Hills.”

“The boy has the touch.” Eric breathed on his knuckles and rubbed them on his shoulder. “Chip off the old block.”

Clay caught Laura's eyes one more time before they sat down, and that was it. Another conversation that wasn't bound to come up again.

That night, as Clay drove home, he thought about the evening. How was it he'd had such strange talks with both Eric and Laura? Must've been the fact that he'd almost been killed. Or that he was leaving for New York in a few days.

Something had triggered it.

Whatever it had been, it felt good that Laura knew his feelings. Better still, that she understood. Laura was right about New York City. He should talk to strangers, make friends with the guys in the program, find someone to take in a Broadway play. Why not? He'd only be there three weeks. After that he could come home and start life as a detective. When he did, he promised himself something.

He would get more connected at church, if not his church, another one in the Valley. He would look into the church's singles group or join a Bible study. After all, the people there had everything in common with him. Only by walking through the doors of a church would he ever find someone to fall in love with.

Because maybe Laura was right about that too. She'd been praying for him to find someone, and he'd been praying the same thing. And if this was the time in his life when he might meet someone and fall in love, he knew one thing for certain.

It wouldn't be in New York City.

S
EVEN

Jamie still had her hair in a towel when the doorbell rang.

She darted down the hall and leaned into Sierra's room. “I've got it, honey. Keep getting ready.” Then she took the stairs as fast as she could. “Coming.”

It was Aaron, of course. He was meeting them at her house, taking them to lunch, and then to Chelsea Piers. Sierra had been wanting to visit the indoor pool there, and that Saturday morning was the perfect opportunity.

There was just one problem.

Jamie opened the door and glanced back up toward Sierra's room. She hadn't told her daughter that Aaron was coming. She meant to, but time had gotten away from her and now it was too late.

“Oh.” She smiled at Aaron. “Sorry, come on in.”

“Hi.” He was dressed in a denim button-down shirt and jeans a shade lighter. His look took her by surprise. She was used to seeing him in his FDNY uniform—that was what he wore to work at St. Paul's, and what he had on just about every time they'd ever gone out for a meal. “I'm early.”

“That's okay.” She nodded toward the living room. “Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all.” He smiled at her, but it wasn't the easy smile they'd shared for the past few years. Jamie's skin crawled, and she chided herself. He'd been to her house before. Why couldn't she see this as just another visit, another chance to spend an afternoon with a friend who'd come to mean a great deal to her?

She gave Aaron a quick smile and hurried back up the stairs. She knew the answer. Nothing would ever be light between them again. Not until she either agreed that it was time to think of being more than friends, or until she put the idea to rest.

Even if she did that, she was pretty sure things wouldn't be the same. She would always know his intentions, and that was bound to make things awkward. The towel fell off her head as she rounded the corner into her bedroom.
Their
bedroom. Hers and Jake's. She hated when she slipped and thought of it as only hers. It had been theirs; it would always be theirs.