Feels like Home (Lake Fisher Book 2) Page 14

  “I’m hungry,” Kerry-Anne suddenly announces from her spot on the couch. She still hasn’t looked away from the TV.

  I look down at Sam. “What do you guys normally eat?”

  She shrugs. “Cereal. She knows how to fix it herself. She’s six.” She stares hard at Kerry-Anne, who must have heard her because she turns off the TV and goes into the kitchen, rattles around in the cabinet, and I hear her pour something into a bowl.

  Sam gets the milk out and pours it for her, and I hear her spoon start to clank against the bowl. Sam makes a bowl for herself, too, and the room is quiet aside from the sound of children eating.

  “He was really sick, Eli,” Bess whispers, checking over my shoulder to be sure the kids can’t hear her. “He was on the floor, unable to pick his head up off the toilet seat when I got here.” She runs a hand through her hair, which is still all over the place. “The baby was screaming because he hadn’t been fed, and Kerry-Anne walked all by herself over to our cabin to get help.” She looks down at the baby. “Miles exhausted himself screaming, the poor guy.”

  “They were all asleep when I came to get Sam,” I explain softly, somewhat defensively. Sam and I had made plans the day before, and Aaron had approved them. She’d been sitting on the couch in the living room when I’d arrived to collect her.

  “Where did you guys go?”

  “Shopping for Father’s Day,” I admit.

  Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “Father’s Day?”

  “It’s coming up, and Sam had an idea.” I shrug. “So I promised to take her shopping.”

  “How did you guys get to talking about Father’s Day?” she asks, and she looks like she’s genuinely curious.

  “She brought it up when we were fishing.”

  “What did you get?”

  “We went to the t-shirt shop at the mall, and she had a shirt made.” It really wasn’t anything fantastic, but it was all her idea. “Oh,” I add, “we went by that little camera shop, too, and I picked up the supplies you’ll need to develop your pictures out back.”

  She looks startled. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did you know what to get?”

  I laugh. “I didn’t. I just told the guy at the counter to give me everything I’d need. I probably bought way too much stuff. Plus I got some extra film. Did you know it’s hard to find real film anymore? Everything is digital now.” I shake my head as I go and sit down on the couch near her. Then I just stare at her. I can’t stop staring at her. She looks so comfortable and relaxed, so un-Bess-like.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks me warily. “You have a funny look on your face.”

  I lift one shoulder. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “It’s something.” She lifts her bare foot and nudges my knee with her toe, and all I can think is that she just touched me. On purpose. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “You just look happy, that’s all,” I admit sheepishly.

  Her cheeks color a little, but she doesn’t freeze up or act like I just called her out on something. Instead, she smiles a little bigger. She lifts Miles up and rests him on her shoulder, where he settles peacefully with his forehead against her neck. “Eli, I’m really worried about Aaron,” she says. She looks toward the kitchen to be sure the girls are still occupied. “He was really sick.” She drops her voice down to a whisper. “I mean like really, really sick.”

  “Well, that’s one of the reasons why he came here, to get some help during all this,” I remind her.

  “At least he’ll be done with it next week and things can get back to normal.”

  Normal. Next week, Aaron will be done with chemo and he’ll be ready to begin palliative care. But Bess doesn’t know that. I open my mouth to tell her, because it doesn’t feel right that she doesn’t know yet, but a faint knock sounds on the door and then Gabby walks in.

  “Good morning,” she says. “Mom and I got done quicker than we thought.” She looks around. “Is everything okay?”

  “Aaron is sick,” Bess explains quietly. “I just came to help with the kids.”

  “Well, if you want me to take over now…” Gabby says hesitantly.

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “I’m going to cheat and take them all up to the big house,” she says with a laugh. “Sam and Alex have a lot in common, and Trixie and Kerry-Anne are besties, so they all kind of take care of themselves.”

  Bess gets up and transfers Miles into Gabby’s arms, then Gabby gathers the girls up like a mother hen, gets Kerry-Anne dressed, and they all leave together.

  Bess stands there like she’s unsure of what to do next. “I don’t want to leave Aaron unattended for too long,” she explains.

  “I can sit with him if you want to go get dressed.” I drag my eyes down the ridiculous print of her favorite pajamas. They’re threadbare now because she loves them so much.

  She looks down. “Aaron likes the duck jammies,” she objects, then she grins at me. “But I see your point. I’ll go get dressed.”

  “Maybe put on a…” I drag my eyes toward her chest. “…you know.” My cheeks go hot. But she’s standing there without a bra on, she’s my wife, and I think she’s sexy as hell no matter what she’s wearing, especially now that she’s actually smiling at me.

  “What?” she asks. She looks down again.

  “A bra, Bess,” I clarify.

  “Oh.” She laughs out loud. “It’s not like you’ve never seen them before, Eli.”

  I meet her eyes and suck in a breath. “It’s been a while, Bess.” My voice sounds gravelly even to my ears. Her cheeks get even rosier, and she’s so damn cute in that moment that I want to kiss her.

  “I’m going to go change,” she says. She moves quickly toward the door and out it, closing it softly behind her. I see her stop and sag against the door through the window. Then she straightens her spine and leaves.

  Oh, Bess, I think. What’s it going to take?

  27

  Aaron

  When I wake up, my whole house is quiet. I lie still and listen to the silence. When you have three kids, that’s something that never happens. Even when they’re sleeping, there’s noise in the house. It might be from the dishwasher running or the dryer spinning, or it might be the padding of their little socked feet as they go to the bathroom. But you never get dead silence. Never ever. If you do, then something is very wrong.

  I get up, glad that I can actually move now without throwing up. I don’t know what I would have done without Bess this morning. She saved me when I didn’t even know I’d need saving. The doctor had said this round of chemo was a low dose, and that it might or might not buy me some time. I wanted one last summer. I needed one last summer. But I’m not at all sure that’s what I’m going to get.

  I get up, slowly pull on some shorts, and step outside. I shade my eyes with my palm, and I look across toward Eli and Bess’s cottage. Eli is working on his front porch, where he has pulled up a few rotten boards to replace them. He’s wearing a tool belt, and he looks like he’s totally engrossed in his task. But what’s funny is that Sam is standing right next to him, and he’s patiently watching her hammer a nail.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Eli says as I walk across the yard. My legs are weak as water. “Feeling better?”

  Sam stops what she’s doing and stares at me. I know I don’t look well. In the mirror, I saw the broken veins in my cheeks from all the throwing up, and I already know I have dark circles under my eyes. My eyes are bloodshot like I’ve been binge-drinking.

  “Don’t know that I could have felt much worse,” I admit. My stomach gurgles just thinking about it.

  “Have you had anything to eat or drink?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

  “Not yet. I’ll get something in a minute.” I look around. “Where’s Bess?”

  “In the shack out back. She set up some photos to process this morning, and now she’s hanging the pictures up to dry.” He nudges Sam with his elbo
w. “Sam, go and get your dad a juice pouch, will you? They’re in the fridge.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. She sets her hammer aside and goes in the front door, picking her way around the missing boards on the porch.

  “Thanks for taking so much time with her,” I tell Eli. I can’t express how much I appreciate them all.

  He grins. “We’re actually having a lot of fun. She’s a smart girl.” He lifts one finger in a qualifying gesture. “I will admit that when I first met her I didn’t like her very much. She had a snarly attitude.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mutter.

  “But the more time I spend with her, the more she opens up.” He looks toward the door where she disappeared. “I like having her around, to be honest.”

  I don’t know if I should be relieved or hurt. On one hand, I’m glad he likes my kid. On the other hand, it makes my heart hurt that he likes my kid, because when I’m gone my kid will be his kid.

  “You gave Bess quite a scare this morning,” Eli says.

  I scratch my stomach. “I gave myself quite a scare.”

  “Did you get that sick the last time you did chemo?”

  I nod. “Couple of times. But I wasn’t a single parent then.”

  “Well…” He stops and looks toward the door again, and then he lowers his voice. “Sam knows you’re doing chemo again.”

  “What? How?” I look toward the door to be sure she can’t hear us. I didn’t want Sam to know yet. I want her to be a twelve-year-old girl a little longer.

  “She heard a message your doctor left on your voicemail. And she recognized the way you’re getting sick and put two and two together. She came up with four.” He gives me a pointed glance. “She’s a smart girl, that one.” He goes quiet for a second. “You’re going to have to tell her,” he finally says.

  I nod. “I will.” I need to come up with a plan. I need a way to tell her that will do the least damage later in her life, and I don’t know what that is yet.

  He stabs his finger in my direction. “And you need to tell Bess. If you don’t tell her, I’m going to.” He stares hard at me. “She’s finally acting like she doesn’t hate my guts. If she finds out I knew, she’ll go back to hating me.”

  I glance toward the backyard. “So, you say she’s out in the shed?”

  Sam walks out of the house and brings me a juice pouch she has already stuck the straw into. I take it and suck it down slowly, still a little unsure of how it will sit in my stomach. “Thanks,” I say. I reach out and grab her, bringing her in to where she leans against me. She stares up at me from beneath the brim of the pink hat that she’s been wearing ever since I gave it to her and she looks so much like Lynda that it almost hurts to look at her. “You look just like your mother when you smile.”

  She beams. “My mom had a great smile.”

  “She did.” My eyes start to sting with unshed tears, but I blink them back. “I’m going to go and bug Bess for a few minutes.”

  “Finish your juice pouch!” Sam calls and I lift it to take another swallow where she can see as I walk toward the shed.

  Bess is inside, and I know she has been developing film so I don’t go busting straight in there. Instead, I knock.

  “Go away,” Bess calls back. “Unless you’re selling Girl Scout cookies, particularly the ones with the chocolate and mint, I don’t want to be bothered!”

  “Hey, Bess,” I yell. “I don’t have any cookies! Can I come in anyway?”

  The door opens and she sticks her head out. “Aaron? What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I woke up.” I grin at her.

  “Well, you look like shit,” she says. She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “So maybe you should go back to bed.”

  I look beyond her into the little shack. “What are you doing?”

  “I developed some film this morning, so I was just putting the shots on paper.”

  “Can I come see?”

  She steps back and motions for me to follow her into the small room. She has the lights turned on, and a fan is blowing in the corner. The smell is almost enough to knock me out, but I stay close to the door.

  She has pictures strung on a line across the side of the room, drying. I walk over closer to them. “Hey, these are really good!” She has captured two of me with all three of my kids at the same time, and they’re amazing. Just the sight of them makes my eyes well up, and I fight hard to push back the tears. I knew that it would be hard to tell Bess, but I don’t even know how to start.

  I walk down the line, studying each of the pictures in turn. “Hey, what’s this?” I point to one of the pictures. It’s of her and Eli, and her hair is different than she wears it now.

  “There was some old film in the camera from a few years ago. About half a roll of undeveloped film, so I did those too.” She heaves out a sigh.

  “These are good,” I say. “When are they from?”

  “About five years ago,” she says. She walks over close to me, and her shoulder presses against my arm. “That was the last time I was pregnant.”

  I look closely and I can see her slightly rounded belly. There’s barely a bump, but I can see it. “You were pregnant.” I look over at her. “Oh, Bess,” I say, as I realize that a tear has just trailed from the corner of her eye down her cheek.

  “Sorry,” she says as she wipes it away. “There’s no evidence of any of the other babies. They all just kind of went away. But that one, that one was real.” She sucks in a breath. “That one got a casket.”

  “Bess,” I croon, and I reach out to put my arm around her. “I never knew.”

  She shakes her head. “Nobody knew. I’d had five miscarriages by then. I was terrified to tell anyone about the pregnancy, afraid to make it real, so I made Eli promise to keep it to himself. We didn’t even tell our parents. When things went wrong, I was glad we didn’t tell anybody. We buried that baby by ourselves, with no one the wiser.”

  “Bess,” I say soothingly, but I quickly realize there are no adequate words. There are no sentiments I can share or words that will comfort her.

  “None of the rest of them were real.” She reaches out to touch the photo. “But that one was real. I felt that one move. I felt that one dance in my belly. She was a girl. But she came way too early, and there was nothing they could do.” She draws in a ragged breath. “And then she was gone.”

  I stare at the picture. The joy on her face in the photo is the old Bess, the one I used to know. It’s the one I’ve started seeing tiny glimpses of in the past few days.

  “After that baby, Eli refused to try to get pregnant again. He said it was too hard on me.”

  “Was it? Too hard on you?”

  She shrugs and gives me a self-deprecating grin. “Maybe. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “But I resented the hell out of him for making the choice for the both of us.”

  “Didn’t you guys talk about it?” I stare at her. She has all my attention because Bess wears her heart on her sleeve and you can see every emotion on her face. Or you used to be able to. Now she’s more of a shell of her former self.

  “He refused to discuss it. When we had sex, he used a condom.” She glances at me and gives me a mischievous grin. “TMI? Sorry.” She shakes her head and the grin fades. “There was no getting around it. He refused to get me pregnant again.”

  “And that was when you started hating him.” Not a question. Just a statement.

  “No,” she corrects me on a heavy exhalation. “That’s when I started hating myself.” She quietly starts to clean up her chemicals, transferring them from pans to containers. “The one thing I wanted to be in life, I couldn’t be. I blamed myself. It was my body that failed me, not Eli. But then that hatred and contempt I had for myself started to seep into everything I did. When Eli pulled out a condom, I would freeze up. The first few times I ignored it, thinking he would eventually change his mind. He didn’t. And, eventually, I pulled away entirely.”

  “Does he know this is how you
felt?” I ask. “Sometimes men don’t understand.” That happened with me and Lynda. Sometimes she would have to spell out how she felt for me because I truly didn’t understand.

  She shrugs. “I have no idea what Eli knows.”

  “I’m sorry, Bess. If Lynda and I had known, we would have been there to support you both.”

  “You and your perfect family made me jealous as fuck, Aaron,” she admits, more than a little snarl to her voice.

  I step back, surprised by the vehemence in her tone. “My perfect family?”

  “Yes, your perfect family. You and Lynda met, and you fell in love so quickly… You never doubted she was the one, did you?” She stares at me like she’s watching my face, looking for lies.

  “No, I always knew.” A little smile tugs at my lips when I think of her. “She was my world when it was just the two of us. Then she made my world bigger and better with the kids.” I choke out a laugh. “Not going to lie, though. Miles was a complete surprise. I thought we were done with two.”

  “See, you were able to make babies even by mistake,” she says quietly. “And I couldn’t even make one on purpose.” She hops up to sit on the counter and looks at me. “I hate you,” she says and gives me an affectionate punch on my arm. This is the Bess that has always been my best friend. She’s the one that I can talk to about anything.

  It’s time. “I need to tell you something,” I say. I wring my hands together, and she stares at them, her brow creasing.

  “Okay,” she replies slowly, drawing out the word.

  “Tomorrow, when I go for chemo, I’m going to see the doctor instead. I’m going to tell him that I’m ready to stop.”

  “Stop the chemo? Can you do that?”

  “I can do anything I want.”

  “But will it affect your recovery?” Her brow knits tight, and I can see her struggling to put two and two together to get four.

  “I’m not going to recover, Bess.”

  I stare at her as she balls her hands into fists.

  “Stop it, Aaron. That’s not funny.” Her mouth tightens as she grits her teeth. The muscle at the side of her face jumps.