Ex’s and Oh’s (14 page)

“You realize,” she said, “that what you’re proposing is technically illegal.”

Next to her, Shane said, “Karl knew the rules. He was eighty-five. He lived a long, clean life, and died of old age, not some horrific contagious disease.” He raised his voice in order to be heard over the engine and the wind. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I gave him my word. Don’t think of it as breaking the law. Think of it as bending it.”

“First I lied to Steven,” she said, “and now I’m about to
bend
the law.”

They didn’t speak again for a long time. Caroline didn’t know how Shane kept his bearings, but he checked gauges and instruments, adjusting his course accordingly. After some time had passed, he began to slow down. A few minutes later, he cut the engine. “We’re here.”

Caroline peered in every direction. There was only water, sky and darkness. She had no idea where “here” was. “Karl chose this exact place?”

“If it was daylight, and we had binoculars, and you looked straight that way,” he said, pointing, “you would be able to see Karl’s lighthouse.”

Shane took the urn from the compartment. And then he reached for her hand, holding it tightly as they stepped up, out of the cabin.

On deck, he guided her hand to the railing. “Is it okay if I let go?”

She nodded. “As long as I can hold on to something. I don’t have my sea legs.”

“Relax your knees. Ride the rocking motion. Don’t fight it.”

“That’s easier said than done.” But she tried.

“Ready?” he asked as he opened the urn.

No, she wasn’t. How could anyone be truly ready to do something so final? But she nodded.

“Would you like to say something, Caroline?”

She pictured a red-haired boy taking a trip for supplies with his father, and a red-haired man falling in love with a girl who had no idea she would soon be facing a heartbreaking decision. She pictured him climbing the water tower with his best friend, and later, representing people who couldn’t pay him. She imagined him opening that letter from home. She remembered him sipping Earl Grey, and falling asleep in the middle of something he was telling her.

She shook her head, for she had nothing to say that would do him justice.

Shane flung the contents of the urn into the air, scattering the ashes into the darkness, where they fell to the moonlit water before sinking out of sight. “Goodbye, old man,” he said. “Thanks for everything. I’m going to miss you.”

Emotion welling in her chest, Caroline looked, not at the water, but at the moon. She already missed him. “I’m glad I knew you, Grandfather.”

She and Shane remained exactly as they were, waves rocking the boat, the night infinitely dark and still. She couldn’t help thinking how vast the universe was, and how small humans were. It occurred to her that it had always been this way. Society changed, but life and death remained the same.

Feeling Shane looking at her, she waited for him to say something profound.

“Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Steven?”

She glanced at him, surprised. For some reason, she started to laugh. “He’s nobody.”

“Nobody.”

She nodded even as she began to tell him about Steven’s visit in Lake Forest. She wound up telling Shane
about her grandfather’s funeral three months ago, and Steven’s little bombshell later that day. She told Shane about resigning from Hilliard, Ross and Whitley, and how it had felt to discover that Karl was alive. She talked and talked, the wind in her hair, the moon on the water, her voice quieting to little more than a whisper as she said, “If he’d cared, I might feel differently, but he didn’t. Steven’s nobody to me. Not anymore.”

“In that case, there’s no sense standing around talking about nobody.”

He took her hand again, and led her safely inside. She stood out of his way as he closed the windows and prepared for the return trip.

“Caroline?” he said again.

She turned around. And honestly, she never saw his kiss coming.

Shane
and Caroline had been quiet during the drive to her house. It was after midnight, and she hadn’t left the light on over the summerhouse door. The moon lit their way, casting their shadows in intricate detail on the ground, their shoes crunching on crushed shells along the path. He reached for her hand, holding just her fingers in his loose grasp. Caroline closed her eyes at the tenderness the gesture brought to the backs of her eyes and the base of her throat.

It had been an emotional night, and yet releasing Karl’s ashes over the lake he’d loved had felt right. As unexpected as Shane’s kiss had been, it had felt right, too. That was what worried her, for he’d kissed her as if the touch of his lips on hers was integral to his nature, to the moment, to who he was and what she was to him.

“You aren’t going to invite me in, are you?” he asked.

There was no sense wondering how he’d known. She’d given that a great deal of thought during the quiet drive.
She’d assumed pregnant women felt maternal. In fact, she could attest to an indescribable depth of maternal love for her child. This desire was a different matter. It was absurd, and yet she felt that if she did ask him in, she would somehow be cheating Tori. “No, Shane, I’m not.”

He heaved the kind of sigh only men could manage.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, recalling how much easier it had been to keep her balance during the boat ride back to the marina. “I think I may have discovered the secret to gaining my sea legs, and I have you to thank for it.”

Assuming a stance she recognized, feet planted comfortably, hands on his hips, shoulders back slightly, he said, “Now that’s a new term for it.”

“Good night, Shane.”

“It didn’t start out that way, but it’s ending well, all things considered. Good night, Caroline.”

She let herself in. After she prepared for bed, she tried Tori’s cell number. When it went straight to her voice mail, Caroline hung up, for this wasn’t exactly something she could say in a message. One of these days soon, she needed to talk to her in person.

“Welcome mothers, fathers, sisters, friends, significant others.” The nurse in charge of the expectant parenting class cast a pointed look in Caroline’s direction.

“We’re just friends,” Tori called.

Caroline was never one-hundred-percent certain what Tori might do or say. A scamp one minute, a fiercely loyal champion of the underdog the next, she’d agreed to attend the prenatal classes and act as Caroline’s birthing coach.

The six-week course would cover everything from the third trimester to the postnatal checkup. There was a lot to learn about giving birth, and much of it wasn’t pretty. Tori assured her that experiencing it personally wasn’t as bad as watching it on video. That was good to know, since the woman on the television screen was screaming.

“Then she’s acting?” Caroline whispered.

“I doubt it. Can you say epidural? Forget natural childbirth. If they offer you drugs, take them.”

The couple next to them shushed them. Somehow, Caroline didn’t think she and Tori were going to be teacher’s pets.

During the break, the mothers and their labor coaches were supposed to practice their relaxation breathing techniques. Looking around the room at all the women lying on their backs, Tori said, “Man, this almost makes me want another baby.”

“Seriously?” Caroline asked, breathing in, breathing out.

“Seriously.”

“Do you have a father in mind?”

Tori shrugged. “I was seeing someone, but the spark’s gone.”

“Already?”

“Like always, it fizzled fast,” Tori said.

While everyone was getting situated in sitting positions on their mats, Caroline said, “Would you ever consider trying again with Andy’s father?”

“Trying what? You mean a reconciliation?”

“Yes,” Caroline said. “Perhaps what you feel for him isn’t hatred.”

“Of course it isn’t hatred.”

Caroline held her breath as she waited for the opportunity to casually mention that she knew Shane.

“But it sure as hell isn’t love, either. What’s all this talk about relationships?” Tori asked. “Are you falling in love with somebody?”

Love? Caroline wanted to scream, because now there was no way to broach the subject subtly. It had been a week since she and Shane had scattered Karl’s ashes. Caroline would have liked Tori’s blessing. She got the distinct impression that would be a very cold day in hell.

“Are you?” Tori asked.

“
Love
is a strong word.”

“Are you thinking about having sex?”

If Caroline had been drinking a soda, she would have sprayed the people in front of her.

“Women have needs, too,” Tori whispered. “Surely you’ve discovered another use for the handheld shower nozzle. Are you blushing? Good grief, are you innocent or what?”

Caroline didn’t feel innocent, exactly. She felt on the brink of discovery. It seemed as though she’d found a kindred spirit in Shane, if such spirits existed. Perhaps it was as he’d said on the lake last week. Maybe she’d simply discovered a partner in crime. Then again, perhaps Tori was right, and she was falling in love.

Caroline hyperventilated. A dozen people crowded around her to help her breathe through it. Practicing the newly learned technique, she couldn’t help wondering if there had ever been a cold day in hell.

Shane opened the window in Karl’s old bedroom. It was hotter than blazes in here. It had been more than a week since he and Caroline had scattered Karl’s ashes, and she was helping him sort through Karl’s things. Shane was boxing up the clothes and she was working on the books in the living room. He recognized the tactic for what it was. She was keeping a respectable distance between them.

Darkness had fallen a while ago. Cicadas and crickets chirruped from their hiding places outdoors. It was amazing
how much racket a lone moth could make banging its head against the screen as it tried to get to the light inside. Nobody understood the insect’s futility better than Shane.

He emptied the last dresser drawer. Hoisting the cardboard box into his arms, he carried it to the dining room and stacked it with the others. Taking a breather, he stretched, rotating a kink or two from the back of his neck. It may have been a ploy, but it was an effective one, for it gave him a reason to linger where Caroline was in plain view.

She hadn’t made a lot of progress with the packing. Instead of filling a box with books, she’d opened a volume and was reading. She was like that, so thirsty and open to literature and history and folklore, anything old or new.

She turned slightly, presenting him with a side view. She was more than five-and-a-half months along now. She hadn’t gained a great deal of weight, but she was still obviously a pregnant woman. A beautiful pregnant woman. Her shirt was red, the front dipping to a V that crisscrossed between her breasts and snugged her body below them. Who the hell’s idea it was to make maternity clothes sexy, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t have minded doing a little exploring. Either there was something seriously wrong with him or there was something seriously right about his feelings for her. He didn’t know which possibility bothered him more.

Needing to think about something else, he had a sudden
mental picture of Vickie, a mood buster if there ever was one. “I tried to talk to Andy about college the other day. It went about as well as when I tried to talk about it with his mother.”

Caroline looked over at him but didn’t close the book.

“She’s on a new kick,” he said. “Now she wants him to go out for football.”

“Is she hoping he’ll earn a scholarship?” Caroline asked, obviously not following.

“That’s what she says. But that’s not the real reason.” Shane entered the living room. “Vic’s upset because Andy doesn’t hang out with his friends. She’s afraid that means there’s something deeply and profoundly wrong with him. She wants him to make new friends, and she thinks joining a team is the answer. Football practice is starting in a few weeks.”

“Does Andy enjoy football?”

A table lamp was on in the corner, as well as the floor lamp across the room. Neither quite dispensed with the shadows between them. “At first he rode my butt into the ground on our bikes, and I’m pretty sure he enjoyed doing it. But I don’t think he has the killer instinct for football. Which is what I told Vickie. She told me I never back her up, and then she hung up on me.”

“Shane, I—”

“I don’t usually bad-mouth Andy’s mother. I suppose she can’t help it that she’s a pain in the ass.”

Caroline closed the book she’d been reading and placed it in the cardboard carton. When Shane reached his hand toward her, she froze. His touch was light, his fingertips barely grazing her skin just below her neck. He took the charm dangling from the end of its delicate chain between his thumb and forefinger.

The next thing she knew, his mouth came down hard on hers. She felt herself being propelled backward until her back touched the wall. His legs straddled hers, pinning her there while his arms cushioned her, protecting her.

His face was so close to hers she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stiffened, and he said, “Am I hurting you?”

He meant because of the baby.

She shook her head.

“Something tells me you’re going to give me the ‘don’t’ speech again.”

She didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or swat him. “Tori is a friend of mine.”

“Who?” He settled more intimately against her.

“Tori. Your ex-wife?”

At least she finally had his attention. “What does Vickie have to do with this?”

“I know her as Tori. She was the first person to befriend me in Harbor Woods. Until recently, I didn’t know she was your ex-wife.”

“Do you want my condolences?”

Now she did swat him.

“I noticed you said ex-wife,” he said. “
Ex
being the key word. I don’t see a problem.”

Of course he didn’t.

In an effort to move out of his embrace, she bumped the framed artwork behind her with so much force it swung like a pendulum on the nail. In a reflex action, Shane held the print in place with his left hand.

Behind the print was a door, slightly ajar. Opening it, he said, “I believe we just discovered Karl’s secret hiding place.”

She moved out of the way, and he lifted the print off its nail. An old wall safe with a broken lock was now in plain view. Inside was a leather diary and yellowed newspaper clippings. Removing the stack carefully, Caroline looked through them.

She was featured in every one.

“He knew,” she said, scanning them one at a time. “He must have known my mother was his child.” She looked at Shane. “Karl knew who I was.”

She carried the tear sheets to the table, spreading them
out evenly. Her entire life, beginning with her birth announcement and ending with a high-profile case she’d won last year had been clipped and saved in chronological order. The final press release must have come just before he’d suffered his stroke.

The evidence was straightforward and conclusive. Karl had known she was his granddaughter. There was no other explanation. She doubted he’d recognized her these past months, when his memories had been interrupted due to his stroke, but the man who’d amassed these clippings had known.

She looked at the wall safe again. Some people became eccentric with age. She’d once read of a small fortune the unsuspecting heirs of a miserly old woman had discovered when cleaning out her house following her death. She’d hidden money everywhere. They’d found seventy-five-thousand dollars in small bills, in her books, in her pillow cases, even in her shoes. Karl hadn’t amassed cash. His collection was more precious than money.

“He not only knew you were his granddaughter,” Shane said, quietly scanning the array spread out before him. “He was proud of you, too.”

She thought about the way people were always trying to rush situations. Karl and Henry had had infinite patience. Neither had felt the need to tell her outright, and
yet in their own good time, they’d sent her on a treasure hunt. It began with that first letter Henry had stored in an old tin in the attic in Lake Forest. It was as if he’d known it would lead her to Harbor Woods and all the rest. Caroline doubted the men had been in contact, and yet they couldn’t have devised a better strategy if they’d written their plan on the water tower in green paint.

The clues had brought her a treasure trove that was her family history. Anna had died young, but first she’d left behind a legacy. That legacy had been Caroline’s mother, Elsa, the seed planted by Karl, to be raised by Henry. Elsa had died young, also, but first she’d had a daughter, too. And so it went, Caroline’s delicate lifeline and family tree. Now she was going to have a child. She’d never been more certain she was in the place she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do.

She gestured to the table. “All of this happened because a boy and a girl happened to fall in love. A horrible war happened to separate them. And when she discovered she was pregnant, she married her child’s best friend. It doesn’t feel like happenstance. It feels like the unfolding of a master plan. And here I am.”

“Here you are.”

He was looking at her mouth, and it brought her full circle. But where exactly did this leave them?

She gathered up the articles and press releases as gently as she’d spread them out. Placing the diary on top, she heard Shane closing the windows in the next room. She waited for him at the door. He locked it behind them, then took her elbow as if to insure she didn’t stumble down the cement steps. He wasn’t a man who wasted words. She could tell by his expression that they hadn’t finished their discussion about Tori.

By the time they drove from Prospect Street to the Oval Lake Channel, she was ready to try to make him understand.

“Shane, what you and I have—”

“What you and I have has nothing to do with Vickie. You said it yourself a little while ago.”

She should have known he wouldn’t let her finish.

“It doesn’t feel like happenstance.” He quoted her, word for word. “It feels like the unfolding of a master plan.”