One More Time (41 page)

Everything had changed in his absence, maybe because of his absence, and he didn’t know where to begin.

He didn’t know how to ask, how to explain, how to establish a connection with his wife again.

Though he desperately wanted to do so. Matt wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen when they met again, but it wasn’t this. Was she already prepared to be rid of him?

A funeral maybe wasn’t the best site for a reunion, as it led to the obvious conclusion that the relationship was dead, too.

That was when Matt remembered that Leslie had avoided this ritual with her own father. Was this particularly painful to her? Was she thinking about her own past? She held fast to his hand and kept her gaze lowered so he couldn’t tell whether she was crying.

But she was breathing quickly.

The minister led them all in the final prayers and last hymn. The music swelled and James stepped forward, leading the way for the pall bearers. Matt gave Leslie’s hand a last squeeze and went to take his place opposite James. He was surprised to find his own bitterness losing its sting, maybe because of James’ words, maybe because time dulled the wound, maybe because he was wishing that he had had more time to get to know his father.

Nick took the place behind James and four more cousins took their places. They were seven, and a bit uneven for a procession, but his mom had insisted on leaving one pallbearer’s place empty.

Matt hadn’t asked why, even though it was the space behind him. He figured it was some kind of tradition or family symbol.

He hefted his share now and at James direction, the pallbearers lifted the coffin to their shoulders in even stages.

Matt’s first surprise was that the coffin wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected it to be. They might actually make it all the way to the hearse without missing a step.

His second surprise was that his mother was crying, something he had never seen her do.

His third surprise was that the door of the church opened at the end of the aisle. It was supposed to open when they got closer, but they hadn’t even left the altar yet. And it was supposed to open evenly, both doors swinging open in unison.

But a single door was thrown open and left to fall closed by itself. It did so with a resounding thump as the man who had opened it strode quickly down the aisle of the church.

It was Zach.

He ducked behind Matt, taking the place that had clearly been left for him, and Matt felt him take a share of the weight.

“Just in the nick of time,” Zach muttered.

“Don’t do us any favors,” Nick muttered and Matt found their animosity reassuring in a way.

He saw James’ gesture, the one he had been watching for, and straightened beneath his burden. They began the processional march out of the church to
Amazing Grace
. The doors at the end of the aisle swung open in unison as Matt had expected, the men in black from the funeral home doing their job of facilitating ceremony.

The rain had stopped, though it was still overcast.

But the steps of the church weren’t empty as they had been when Matt had arrived. They were lined with Marines in dress uniform and beyond them were other veterans in their dress uniforms, lining the course the hearse would take around the church’s drive. Matt recognized many of these men, knew that they had served in the military and that some of them were still in service. Some were his contemporaries, but many were older.

His father’s contemporaries. Matt had a glimpse of his father’s history that he knew very little about and saw in the faces of these men an admiration that he had never expected.

As soon as the coffin cleared the church doors, the first man snapped to attention and saluted. The remaining men and women echoed his gesture with crisp precision.

The veterans of Rosemount had formed a spontaneous honor guard for Robert Coxwell, and at the sight of it, Matt realized that James had been right. Their father had touched many people, had insisted upon honor and morality, and was admired.

There was good mingled in the bad, black and white mingled together instead of sorted out neatly as Robert would have preferred. So, maybe the legacy from Robert was an ability to recognize right and wrong, which put the grey zones into perspective.

The coffin slid into the hearse and the pall bearers stepped back in unison. Matt looked up the steps as Leslie came out of the church and he felt that sense of rightness, that surety of purpose that Robert had encouraged in him.

He knew what he had to do to make things right.

He went straight to Leslie and claimed her hand again, not caring what anyone thought. “I think we need to talk, after the service,” he said to her. “Will you come for a drive with me?”

“But what about Annette?”

“She can come with me,” Beverly said with resolve. “Go, now.”

Leslie looked between the two of them and Matt feared for a moment that she would decline. Then she smiled at him, a sad smile that didn’t make him believe his chances of success were very good. “Yes, it’s past time that we had a long talk.”

* * *

The demon child had an innate fashion sense. Who would have guessed? Beverly had been surprised by the Hermès halter, but also impressed.

The girl had potential, after all.

In fact, Beverly felt that life had more potential than it had before. Robert’s funeral had been difficult, but she left the reception feeling lighter on her feet. The past had been laid to rest and the future beckoned.

After the service and reception, Beverly drove back to Belmont with Annette to change and to fetch the girls. “The best thing about pantyhose is taking them off,” she informed her granddaughter, who smiled.

They went to a park together, one that Annette suggested, and the girls approved mightily of this endeavor. It was still overcast, the sky sulking like a teenager, though it wasn’t raining. The snow had become messy slush in the field, but it was fenced so Beverly let the girls run. They always listened, so she wasn’t too afraid. There was no one else around, just one man on the far side of the field, walking alone.

Annette stayed right with the girls and it was obvious that all of them needed to let off some steam. She began to make snowballs, much to the girls’ delight, and Beverly walked along the perimeter of the park where it was drier.

She tried to make sense of the buoyancy within her and failed. She was sober and though she knew she would want a drink again, she didn’t want one now. She felt free of that desire, for the moment at least, and watched her granddaughter with an optimism that had become alien to her.

She caught up to the solitary man and was surprised to recognize him. It was Ross Matheson, the vet, and he looked just as startled to see her as she was to see him.

“I thought you lived downtown,” he said by way of greeting.

“I moved in with my son and daughter-in-law for the moment,” Beverly said, hoping it was true.

“Ah, well, I won’t disturb you,” Ross said with a polite smile. He seemed subdued today and less intent upon charming her. He was still charming, his manners impeccable, and Beverly wondered what had happened to sadden him.

“Is something wrong?”

He shrugged and she knew he lied. “No, it’s just a good day for a walk, that’s all.”

“You need a dog.”

He smiled. “Maybe I do.” He glanced toward the girls playing with Annette and his smile broadened ever so slightly. “Your granddaughter?”

“Yes. She and the girls have really taken to each other.”

“Probably good for all of them. I’ll leave you to your snowball games.”

Beverly looked at him hard. “I thought you might ask me out for dinner again.”

“I thought you had declined. Quite emphatically.”

“I thought you weren’t the kind of man to take no for an answer so easily as that.”

His smile turned rueful. “Maybe that’s my problem.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, looked around, then met her gaze steadily. “My wife didn’t want to get married, but I persuaded her with my persistence. Maybe she just surrendered. Maybe she knew all along that it wasn’t the right thing for her to do.” He shrugged again. “And now she’s gone and I really only have myself to blame for the whole mess.”

“Hardly!” Beverly snorted. “She could have had the sense to say no, if marriage wasn’t what she wanted.”

“But I talked her into it...”

“Dr. Matheson, you are not as persuasive as you imagine yourself to be.”

He chuckled. “And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

“No, of course not. Reassurance comes from other things. A game of snowball with a dog, maybe, or a smile from a granddaughter.”

“Or dinner with an enchanting lady?”

“Maybe.” Beverly found herself smiling in turn. “Of course, the possibility of that depends upon what kind of sherry you prefer.”

“Not my charm?”

“We both already know that it’s considerable.”

“I thought you’d given up drinking, that you were going to AA.”

“I have and I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve used taste in sherry as a measure of character for most of my life and am not about to change now.”

“So, what kind did you prefer?”

“I’ll never tell. That’s like asking a woman her age.”

“I’ll guess then. Not a cream sherry.”

Beverly snorted. “That’s for amateurs.”

“Maybe an oloroso, round and rich and amber.”

Beverly shook her head. “I’m sweet enough already.”

Ross laughed slightly. “I don’t imagine you so dry that a pale straw would be a good match.”

“You know a lot about sherry,” Beverly accused lightly. “And you’re right, of course. What about you?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave the matter the consideration that Beverly thought it deserved. “An amontillado is pretty much my favorite,” he said finally. “Not too sweet, not too rich, not too frivolous or presumptuous.” He looked up, met her gaze and his own eyes were twinkling. “It strikes a nice balance.”

Beverly smiled at him, then pointed her finger at his chest. “Friday. Seven. You choose the restaurant and I’ll meet you there.”

“But I don’t know your number!” he protested as she turned away.

“You can tell me where to meet you when I bring the girls in tomorrow to have their ears cleaned.”

“You’re on.”

Beverly found her heart taking a little optimistic skip when Ross Matheson smiled at her, really smiled at her.

Maybe joy wasn’t so hard to find, after all.

* * *

To Leslie’s shock, Matt drove to Lowell.

“I haven’t been here in years,” she said, even as she unwillingly sought familiar landmarks.

“Not since we decided to get married,” Matt confirmed.

There was another portent Leslie could have done without. Bring on the plague of locusts and the hail of comets: it had to be better than standing by to watch her marriage dissolve.

Once she wouldn’t have asked, once she would have just waited to see what he intended to do. But she wasn’t the same person anymore. “Why are we going to Lowell now?”

“Because there’s something you never did here, something that maybe you need to do.”

“Like?”

Matt frowned as he took the exit from the highway. It was starting to rain again and the ramp looked slick. “I didn’t want to go to the funeral today, but that therapist told me I needed to go to find closure, and that if I didn’t go, I’d never again have such a good chance to put the past behind me where it belonged. So, I went, and it wasn’t so bad.”

He turned at the end of the ramp, going in the opposite direction of the house where Leslie had grown up.

“Not the cemetery!” she said with alarm.

“Yes, the cemetery. You never went to his funeral, so this is as good as it gets.”

“But there might not be a stone. We could spend all day wandering around in the rain...”

“No, I know exactly where it is.”

Leslie turned to look at her husband, startled by what an enigma he could be. “How?”

“You and your father still weren’t speaking at the end. Your mother asked me to help her with having the stone installed.” He shrugged. “So, I did. You know she didn’t drive, so I used to take her there a couple of times a year.”

“I never knew,” Leslie said with wonder.

“You weren’t supposed to. She insisted upon it.” He cast her a rueful smile. “I used to pick her up at the T so you wouldn’t guess the truth.”

“Am I that scary?”

Matt laughed a little. “No, but I think your mom thought that both you and your dad were pretty strong-willed.”

Leslie thought about legacies unexpected, then sat up straight in recollection. “There used to be a greenhouse and nursery up here. Could you stop?”

“Of course, I can.”

It was right where Leslie remembered it. They had to run through the rain to the door and Matt shook his head over the state of his suit. The lady was very helpful and they left with a Christmas Rose that she insisted would not only continue to bloom in the snow, but survive quite nicely.

The car filled with the smell of wet wool as they drove onward and Leslie wrinkled her nose. “The dry cleaner is going to love us.”

“Oh well, it’s only money.”

Leslie braced her hand on the seat and twisted to watch his expression. “I’m probably going to quit my job,” she said.

Matt blinked, then he smiled. “That’s probably a good thing. You’ve been pretty frustrated. Any idea what you’re going to do?”

Leslie stared at him in awe. “You really believe that things just work out, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. I mean you have to believe that if you’re going to take a chance on anything. Why would anyone get married, if we couldn’t believe that it was going to work out? Why would anyone have children or buy a house or buy a car or take a vacation, if we couldn’t have that optimism that it would work out, or that it
would
work out?”

Leslie watched the rain hit the windshield, her fingers caressing the waxy blossom of the Christmas Rose in her lap. “Your book is good, you know.”

The care swerved a little. “No, I didn’t know.” Matt stopped at a traffic light and turned to face her. “You’re not putting me on, are you?”