Just Destiny (10 page)

Under the hot shower spray she scrubbed her body pink. Nothing happened. Sure, they’d spent the night together, but not romantically. She hadn’t been unfaithful. She wasn’t a horrible person.

Jenny wished she hadn’t awakened to find herself snuggled against Steve, but like words spoken, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t take it back. He’d taken her home and they’d fallen asleep together. And, God forgive her, it was the first night since the accident that she’d actually slept.

Collapsing against the cold tile wall, hot water pelted Jenny’s head and sluiced down her face, flushing away her tears. How could she? How could she have betrayed her husband like that? Not even buried yet, he lay in some satiny coffin waiting for her to visit. She banged her forehead against the wall, welcoming the pain.

The phone rang. Afraid it would be Steve, she let the answering machine get it. The phone kept ringing. The answering machine must be full. Jenny twisted off the water and wrapped a towel around her as she left the shower and bathroom. Taking a deep breath, she snatched the phone from the cradle. “Hello”

“Jenny? It’s Judith. What took you so long to answer?”

“I was in the shower.”

“Oh. The funeral home called when they didn’t get an answer at your place. They’ll be ready for the wake tonight from five to nine. Do you want us to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll drive myself. How’re the kids?”

“Okay. I don’t think they slept much, but that’s to be expected.”

Guilt hammered her conscience; she’d slept great. “I guess so. Well, I’ll see you then. I’ve got to tell my family and…um…do stuff.”

Jenny hung up the phone and sank to the bed. Her husband had spent the night in some cold, foul-smelling mortuary while she had lain safely cocooned in his best friend’s arms.
What a whore
.

And how could she face Steve? Steve was the confidant/big brother she’d never had and would be lost without. She couldn’t stand it if she destroyed that relationship. Jenny had always gotten along well with men, but Steve was different. The first time they’d traded confidences it’d been so easy—felt so right. She’d been sitting on the dock wallowing in self-pity one evening when Steve had joined her.

“You looked lonely. Gabe still working?”

“He’s stuck at the clinic. I’m meeting him at the Hunt Club for dinner at seven thirty.”

“So what’re you doing out here?” Steve shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over the dock post.

He unbuttoned his white dress shirt cuffs and with quick, efficient twists of the wrist, had both sleeves rolled halfway up tanned forearms. He lowered himself to the wood, disregarding potential damage to his expensive slacks. Resting a forearm on one bended knee, he squinted into the fading sun. The breeze rustled his hair, giving him an attractive mussed look. All he needed was to loosen his tie and he’d make a great cover shot for some men’s magazine, Jenny thought.

“Contemplating life. It’s been a rotten week.”

“It’s only Tuesday.”

She paused, then raised her dark sunglasses and gave him a long, sideways look. “Really rotten.”

“Because?”

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Jenny drew her windbreaker around her bare legs to shelter them against the cooling breeze. “I make so many mistakes.”

“What’d you do this time?” Steve reached up to the crown of her head and gently lowered her sunglasses, easing a small measure of her discomfort.

She groaned and washed a hand over her face. “Instead of sending Alex to her mother to talk about sex and birth control, I told her that abortion was killing a tiny baby and that if she was smart—with all the STDs and AIDs out there, she should always make the guy wear a condom.”

“Sound advice.”

“Judith didn’t think so when she found condoms in Alex’s bag. Alex told her I said she should use them.”

“O-h, shit.”

“Ye-ah. Judith wanted to know if I taught Alex the different positions too.”

“That’s a little harsh.” Steve paused before raising an eyebrow. “Did you?”

She swatted his arm.

“Was Gabe mad too?”

“No.” She grinned. “And I did qualify it with a ‘I don’t think you’re ready—don’t think any teenager could be ready for the emotional impact of sex…yada, yada, yada,’ but still. It was pret-ty ugly.”

“I wish I had some words of wisdom, but I don’t.” He paused. “Things may be hard sometimes—complicated, but you and Gabe have a great relationship.” Steve shook his head, smiling wistfully. “Those other things, parenting, people doubting you—that’s their problem, don’t let them project their issues onto you and ruin what you have with Gabe. Just be true to yourself and Gabe, and everything will work out.”

Be true to yourself and Gabe. If only Steve knew what a fraud she really was. If he knew her secret would he hate her too? Jenny brushed the hair from her eyes and stared at Steve. This prophetic, philosophic counsel was a new side to him. “That’s pretty sage advice, counselor. How’d you get to be so wise?”

He pursed his lips. “The hard way. By paying too much attention to what others thought.”

“When you stopped playing ball?”

He nodded. “Then too.”

“It must have been tough, going from being famous to a regular person overnight.”

“It was an adjustment.” Steve stared at a rusty buoy bobbing gently in the pewter water, then plucked at his perfectly creased pant leg. “Somehow, I’d always expected that the decision to quit would be mine. I mean, it was baseball, not football or hockey. I worked out regularly with a trainer specifically to avoid this type of injury.”

“But all’s well that ends well. You excelled at law school and now work for one of the most prestigious firms in the Detroit area.”

He grunted. “They just took me in to use my name. They parade me out in front of important clients like cheap entertainment. I never get assigned the interesting cases.” He glanced sideways at her before going back to his inspection of the wood splinter he’d ripped off the dock. “Do you know what I’m doing now?”

She shook her head.

“Cite-checking an article one of the partners wrote about civil procedure. There can’t possibly be more boring work.” He paused. “But I can be patient. Soon the right case will come along and they’ll see I’m not just a dumb jock playing attorney.”

Steve called from downstairs, jolting her out of the past. “Jenny?”

Panic dashed through her. “Be right down.”

Throwing on the first thing she saw, a pair of jeans and Gabe’s polo shirt, she whipped the towel from her head and grabbed her brush. Yanking the brush through her wet hair as she descended, Jenny found Steve in the kitchen.

Unshaven and tousle-haired, Steve rested his jean-clad hips against the kitchen counter. A couple of buttons peeked halfway through the buttonholes of his wrinkled navy-checked shirt, as if hastily done up. His eyes locked on hers, wary, as he ignored Ritz’s pawing his topsiders. Other than the uncertainty stamped on his face, he looked refreshed and disgustingly unrepentant.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Jenny called to Ritz, let her outside, and then returned to the kitchen. Not having the faintest idea what she should say or wanted to say to him, she put the round table between them, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at him expectantly.

“Last night—” he frowned, then extended his hand to her before allowing it to fall, slapping his thigh—“was a little weird. I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I meant to move to the chair, but I fell asleep.”¬

“No—it’s all right.” She nodded, wanting this awkwardness to be over. “It’s not as if anything happened.”

“Gabe’s my best friend,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to think I’d take advan—”

“No. I know.” She shoved an impatient hand through her hair. “I—uh—look. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. Let’s just forget it.”

His blue gaze sharpened on her. “Forget it?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. We’re good.”

“O-kay.” He nodded in slow motion. “I really value our friendship and I’d hate like hell to think things would be weird between us because of last night.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, feigning nonchalance. “Last night-psh. Nothing happened. We’re fine. We’re good.”

Steve watched her carefully, as if expecting her to break down. Well, she wouldn’t. The old Jenny might have, but that was before her husband died. She made a mistake, but she’d go on and it’d be okay. It had to be.

“Riiight,” he said slowly, as if trying to piece everything together. “So…do you need help with anything?”

“No. I was just on my way out,” she lied, ignoring her wet hair and bare feet. “I’m off to break the news to my folks.” She went into the laundry room and retrieved a clean pair of socks from the dryer.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, thanks.”

“Want me to get your mail from my house or take the garbage out?”

“It’s Tuesday?” She took in his casual attire. “How come you’re not at work?”

He stared at her so long, that she looked away and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Was that a dumb question?

“I thought you might need help,” he finally said.

“That’s sweet, but I’m fine. Really. I’ve had a bit longer than the rest of you to accept his…being gone.” She inwardly cringed. She still couldn’t say Gabe’s name and the word “death” in the same sentence. “I’ll be okay.”

The house seemed to close in on Jenny, causing a vacuum, making it hard for her to breathe. Whether it was grief or guilt, she couldn’t tell—all she knew was she had to get out. Jenny thrust her feet into her socks, laced her shoes, picked up her purse and whistled for Ritz.

"Ritz, come on.”

"She's already out."

“Oh, right. I’ve really got to go.” Jenny shoved her arms in the coat sleeves and passed him, careful not to let their bodies touch.

She’d almost reached the shelter of her car when Steve called her name. Jenny was tempted to ignore him, but she pivoted on her heel. “What?”

He closed the door and approached. Her car keys jingled loudly as he passed them to her on his way out. “You’ll need these.”

Jenny watched Steve roll her garbage cans out of the garage to the driveway where the garbage men could empty them. Shoulders hunched as if weighted down, he plodded through the passage between their homes without looking back.

* * *

Jenny refused to give in to the grief consuming her. She had a myriad of things to do to honor her love before he could rest in peace. Family and friends were counting on her to organize this last farewell and she would not disappoint them. Mourning was a luxury she’d indulge in later.

After creating a detailed to-do list, Jenny made all the funeral arrangements. She’d swallowed her pride enough to consult with Judith to see if Gabe had any favorite hymns or bible readings—she’d wanted everything to be perfect for him this one last time—but the rest of it she did alone.

She agonized over the difficult decisions, but forced herself to make them. She picked out his coffin, found a distinguished picture for his mass cards, ordered two limos for the family’s use during the funeral procession, and decided to have the brunch afterward at the Hunt Club. She didn’t want hordes of people invading their home.

She spent at least fifteen minutes lingering in Gabe’s closet, swamped with beloved smells and memories, before she was able to pick out his favorite suit, dress shirt and tie to be laid out in. Since being a doctor was such a huge part of who he was and since he’d been wearing it the first time they’d met, she considered going to the office to get his lab coat, but she allowed tradition to prevail and chose a gray wool suit coat that complimented the gray at his temples. Gabe had been a wonderful man—so much more than just a doctor.

Hot, wet tears ran in long rivulets down her cheeks as Jenny typed Gabe’s obituary. Clutching his gold watch, she stroked it like a talisman—as if rubbing the metal would bring back memories of Gabe’s arms wrapped around her. She went through a whole box of Kleenex and her gritty eyes burned before she finished. Writing was her God-given talent. She spent hours choosing the exact right words, pouring her heart and soul into the piece, determined to pay this last tribute to her love.

But most importantly, Jenny initiated the fund for the clinic in Gabe’s name. She certainly didn’t want a profusion of flowers at the funeral home and house to deal with, so in his obituary, she’d asked people to send donations to the Gabe Harrison fund for the Donnatelli clinic where he’d volunteered. Jenny was certain Gianna, the woman whose family had founded and ran the clinic, would find an appropriate use for the money as a memorial to Gabe. He would’ve loved that.

* * *

Weeks later, Jenny pulled into a tight ball under the down comforter, trying to warm the coldness deep within her. She pulled Gabe’s pillow closer, deeply inhaling his scent. Why hadn’t the car hit them both? She sobbed. Going on without Gabe
and
their baby was doubly intolerable. She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t even want to try. Life before Gabe had been challenging, but nothing compared to this.

Her existence felt like a big, empty cavity that echoed her loneliness. Exhausted by life at twenty-eight. If this was growing up, it stunk. She reached for a Kleenex, blew her nose, and threw it on the floor to join a dozen more. If the rest of her life was to be filled with heartache, what was the point?

She sighed deeply. Ritz nudged her arm with a cold wet nose. She heaved her sore body out of bed. Looking in the mirror, the gaunt woman with stringy, straggly hair staring back was a stranger. For once she looked her age—older even. Gabe would’ve allowed her time to grieve, but her weeks spent wallowing in self-pity would have exhausted even his patience. What should she be doing?