The waking place, p.10
The Waking Place, page 10
She nodded to him.
Hers?
“And you’ll call me if you need me?”
She nodded again.
He squeezed Donnie’s arm as he passed him and whispered something that eased the painful expression from his face before he left.
Lane tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at the door. “I have to get Donnie washed for dinner,” she muttered, still in a daze.
“I can do it,” I whispered.
“No,” she said softly. “It’s our last night together. I’ll do it. Will you—could you make us dinner? Something special for his last night here?”
“I was just about to before, but I won’t be able to eat with you. I have to work.”
And after work, Nate had invited me to meet up at a nearby hotel bar for a nightcap, away from my co-workers’ prying eyes. I couldn’t wait to see him again after our hook-up that night we met in my car. He’d come in during my next shift and spent the night watching me, waiting for me to finish so we could do it again.
During the times I’d been with him, I never once felt afraid. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder. If Dunley found me while I was with him, Nate had already proven he knew how to handle himself in rough situations.
Lane wrapped her arm around Donnie’s.
What was she thinking? What were we up against? How did she feel, knowing I’d been the one to send Seever away?
“We need to talk about this later.”
Lane ignored me and led him toward the staircase.
We needed to talk about a lot after the phone call from our dad.
I thought I’d feel unburdened by my secret, but no relief came for me. I wasn’t sure it would until Lane knew the truth.
12
Lane
Cece served us our meal by candlelight at the kitchen table, like the old Sunday dinners we used to have, and left for work shortly after dark.
I checked the locks after she left and once I was convinced we were secure, Donnie and I enjoyed the fluffy ricotta-stuffed pasta shells, just as we had with all the other meals she made for us. I wished she’d been there to enjoy it, too. I was grateful for the extra bit of support she seemed to be giving recently, and the help she’d given in the past I wasn’t even aware of.
I thought it was Seever’s own karma that sent him away, and in a way, one could argue it still was—that Cece was karma herself.
She protected me during a time when I thought she resented me for the rules and structure I’d worked to provide. At an age where she wanted a mom, and I wasn’t a good enough fill-in anymore, she still cared. It changed so much of how I viewed our relationship.
The safety locks were meant to keep Donnie in, but I could hardly wait for the ones Roger ordered that would keep Seever out.
Donnie and I exchanged little glances over the course of dinner, and he echoed the occasional “mmm” back to me as we expressed our enjoyment over the stuffed pasta shells.
After we finished, before I cleared up, I guided him to the living room, and turned on one of his favourite game shows.
I’d spent the last night at the hospital thinking of all the small comforts I could still provide him. The coordinator told me we could set him up with a TV that fit in his small quarters, and that he could spend as much time as he wanted in there watching it. She explained I could visit as often as I’d like, and that Donnie could leave with me any time I’d like, too.
I didn’t know how he’d feel about coming back here. I wasn’t even sure I’d stay here after he left. It was all too much to consider at once. I just wanted to enjoy my time with him, as we always had, and do my best to hold onto something good after everything Seever said during his visit.
He’d been right to be upset with his father’s physical condition, but he didn’t understand the challenges of taking care of someone who needed so much help. Constant help.
Still—I’d have been upset if anyone else had let that happen to Uncle Donnie.
Just as I’d settled in on the couch beside him in his wingback chair, the home phone rang in the kitchen. I used the couch to help me stand, acutely aware of how stiff I’d become from stress and exhaustion, and shuffled to the phone, answering it. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a man said. “May I please speak to Cecilia Carpenter?”
His voice seemed mature, like Roger’s or maybe even closer to our dad’s age.
“I’m sorry, she’s not here. May I ask who’s calling?” A pause rested between us and I frowned. No one had ever called for her to the house phone. I tried again. “I can have her call you back when she gets in...”
A click followed by the dial-tone surprised me and I hung up.
Odd.
The rest of the night continued without event. Donnie and I sat peacefully together, him watching TV, me watching him, thinking back to the letter he wrote me. About his generous spirit I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much, that leaped from the page. The rest of the note lay unread on my bed, waiting for me, after Cece interrupted me to announce Seever’s arrival.
I needed to finish the letter, but there would be time for that soon after.
As he peacefully stared at the TV, I glanced at the picture frame on the glass coffee table that had been there since I was a little girl. Donnie and Seever, side by side, at Seever’s eighth-grade graduation. Uncle Donnie held it sometimes while watching TV or the birds, seemingly comforted just to hold it. Despite their strained relationship, he longed for connection with his son.
During their sparse calls after his retirement, Uncle Donnie would ask him if he’d found a nice girl yet to settle down with or if he was still working at the last place he’d told him about. Seever would always become agitated because whether he said it or not, the answer was always no. He couldn’t stay in one place too long, and he was always on to something bigger and better, so he said.
Uncle Donnie hadn’t picked it up in months, but he’d stare at the black and white photo in the frame Mathilda had put it in from his wingback chair, tears in his eyes, as it collected dust.
I brought Donnie upstairs and got him ready for bed, only remembering it would be the last time as we went through the routines. They’d become mindless motions. Time gone by doing the needed things—where I’d daydream through the tasks to get them over with. The things that took up so much of our lives, like showering, laundry, brushing his teeth, dressing him, and sitting in doctor and hospital waiting rooms.
But then, as I led him into his room, and he laid in his bed for the last time, I wished for all those moments back. I wished I’d paid more attention when he’d tell me stories as we made our pottery or even after he’d started exhibiting symptoms while I performed monotonous tasks of care for him. I couldn’t appreciate what I’d had because I was so focused on what I was losing.
On his last night, I was determined to remain in the moment—the last thing we had left—the only thing anyone ever really has.
The little boy beneath the shady tree smirked down at me until I clicked the lamp light off on the nightstand, and he disappeared in the darkness as my eyes adjusted on Uncle Donnie. I bent down and kissed his warm forehead before I left the room and shut his door over, leaving it open just a crack, as he’d always liked it. Instead of puttering to my room as I usually did, or to the bathroom, or downstairs, I slumped down against the wall outside his door until I hit the ground.
In the dark blue silence of the hallway, I felt the warmth of his embers, glowing on my coldest of nights.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Donnie—” I whispered, but it was all I could choke out before the tears came.
Terrible sobs I concealed with my hands, pressed against my lips, trying to stop myself from letting him hear me, from upsetting him.
Trying to stop my heart from breaking.
Donnie’s words of wisdom as we worked on our art projects, ever since I was a child, came to mind. It hadn’t mattered if it was pottery, charcoal drawings, stained or blown glass.
No stopping the fracture once the piece has fallen.
No retrieval of all the pieces once the damage is done.
No putting it back together in just the same way,
So, hold your pieces close or you’ll have none.
My heart had already been broken. The one I held close would be gone.
13
Cece
My cell phone vibrated against the wooden nightstand. I reached for it with my eyes closed and pulled it into my cozy place in the warm comforters.
I blinked at the screen and my vision came into focus. I hit snooze on my alarm and peeked at the first words of Melissa’s text: Don’t forget about my shift. I leave at ten and…
I pushed it back against the nightstand and turned over, wrapping my arm over Nate’s chest. He smiled and opened his eyes, turning his head to blink hello.
“‘Morning,” I whispered.
He lifted his head off the pillow and frowned, staring out our dark eleventh-floor hotel room window. Not a hint of light at the horizon behind the buildings.
I rubbed his chest. “I need to leave soon.”
“Ah.” He rested his head back against the pillow with a grin. “You like being sneaky, don’t you?” He turned his head toward me with a pensive look. “Cece, you’re not married, are you?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Nope.”
I didn’t want to be judged for staying out with someone while Lane already got upset if I was late because of work. It was Donnie’s last night in the house and I needed to be back in case she needed me one last time.
“This was nice,” I whispered.
“I know it’s not work,” he muttered to himself. “You don’t have to work this early.”
“Quit trying to figure me out.” I traced lines across his broad chest with my fingertip.
“What do you want to do for work?” He tucked both hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “After the bar, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m fine tending bar for a while,” I whispered.
I wasn’t sure businessmen like Nate would understand what seemed like a lack of ambition and direction. My father sure didn’t.
“Yeah?” He kept his eyes closed, seemingly unfazed. “I love going to the bar and just unwinding with the guys from work. Just having a few drinks and actually catching up instead of our assistants playing phone tag to schedule a tee-off time—even having to wait for the season to open used to stop us from seeing each other. Now, we know the place. We know the time. Whoever can be there, great, and if they can’t, we’ll see them next time, you know? It’s just a good place to unwind. Sometimes, I get so stressed out from my job… I can see why you like it there.”
“Yeah. Great tips, low commitment, and I’ve always been more of a night owl. The live music is amazing, and most of the time, I get to hang with some really cool people. I’m happy there.”
He opened his eyes, piercing green staring through me, and I braced myself for the judgment. For the suggestion, I should want something more. A stable career like he had.
“I’m a night owl, too.” He smirked and took a hand from behind his head, lacing his fingers with mine over his chest. “Am I one of the cool people you get to hang with?”
The words sounded unnatural, silly coming from him, and I giggled a little.
He was more than cool.
I got lost in his eyes and he leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss.
My phone went off on the nightstand again and I turned off the alarm. “Sorry.”
“Cece.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against the warm skin of his side. “Why do you have to go?”
“It’s tough to explain…”
“I’m a good listener.”
I pressed my cheek against his chest and squeezed him. He was. And he never judged me.
“My sister and I, we live with our great-uncle, and he’s not doing well. She’s been his caretaker for over a year, but he’s going to be going into long-term care, as of today.”
“Oh, wow.” He pressed his cheek against the top of my head.
“Yeah, it’s been rough. I think she’ll be lost when he’s gone. Uncle Donnie means the world to her and she’s given up her whole life to be there for him. I just—I need to be there for her right now.”
He straightened his head to face the ceiling. I peered up at him but I couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t speak for a while. I snuggled in closer, wondering if I’d revealed too much of my personal life to him too soon.
“It sounds like a lonely life for your sister.” His deep voice carried an understanding.
Maybe he’d been a caregiver, too.
It felt so good to have someone to confide in who took the time to truly listen. To give me a fresh perspective on Lane. She was probably lonely, but she’d done it to herself.
“It’s Lane’s way or no way. Maybe you’ll meet her someday, and then you’ll understand. Her stubbornness.”
“Sounds like something you have in common.” He bent toward me, the hot skin from his chest pressing against mine. “Come away with me.”
The words stole my breath as I pushed away from his chest and stared at him, face to face. Hope sparkled in his green eyes.
“Away? Where?”
“Somewhere warm.” He kissed my forehead. “Tropical. The Bahamas. Lounge by the pool. Get couples massages every day. They’ve got bars there too, you know. We’ll feel right at home.”
“Oh yeah?” I raised my brow and smirked.
“I mean it.” His eyes still smiled at me, but everything else about his expression was serious, waiting for an answer to his very real question.
I couldn’t, could I?
“With everything going on right now—” I started to explain, but he pressed his finger to my lips and kissed me, pulling me in toward him.
He’d asked too much. It was too easy to get caught up in this feeling—falling—but we barely knew each other.
I pushed against his chest and shifted toward the edge of the bed. “Nate, I can’t.”
He pushed his covers away and sat up as I scooted off the bed and got dressed. He watched me with a peaceful expression, and when I tucked my cell phone into my purse, I stopped at the side of the bed, staring at him. Looking my chance to go away somewhere I’d never been—run away from something I couldn’t handle anymore—right in the face.
“Is it crazy?” he asked with a little smile. “To want to whisk you away with me? You said part of the reason you love your job is that it’s low commitment. Flexible, right? Don’t you want to get away from this everlasting winter? I’ve already had the vacation time planned, I leave in three days, and I want to buy you a ticket because… I don’t want to spend the next three weeks without you, Cece.”
I didn’t want to spend any more time sneaking away to see him, hiding any part of me anymore. Nate made me feel safe, wanted, needed. And free.
I crawled across the bed, purse still in hand, and kissed him softly. As I pulled away, he held my face in his hands.
“Come away with me,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t imagine leaving Lane so soon, but I couldn’t say no to those eyes, either.
I softened my stare. “Remains to be seen.”
On the drive home, all I thought about was Lane.
How Jase had asked her to go away with him travelling after he graduated from his program that summer. She’d deliberated with me—or more like I’d tried to convince her to do it. After a long talk one night that led to an argument, she made her choice.
Passing up the trip of a lifetime, completely paid for by Nate, seemed crazy. Just a year before, I’d have said yes.
I should have said yes right when Nate asked me.
I’d become more like Lane than I’d ever thought possible. Sometimes, until you were confronted with a situation, you couldn’t know how you’d react.
If he came into Winburn during my shift and asked me again, I wasn’t sure what I’d do.
The wild part of my heart that needed adventure and the fearful part combined could convince me to run away with him right then.
I snuck in the back door and Donnie’s shoes sat in their place on the mat. I locked it behind me and tip-toed through the quiet house, up the stairs, and past Lane’s room toward mine. I hesitated before my door and peered into Donnie’s room.
His hands were folded over his chest, and his heavy breathing—almost snoring—relaxed me.
I’d made it in time.
The high-pitched whirring from downstairs caught me off guard. My head ached, pulsing with the noise of… a drill?
I got dressed and walked out to the top of the stairs. A man in coveralls pulled the brass fixture off the front door. I descended the stairs and he checked me out as I walked past him before returning to his work.
“They won’t be here long,” Lane called to me over the noise as I entered the kitchen, rubbing at my temple.
Her soft curls bobbed, blending the usual stark contrast between her mousy brown roots and dyed blonde strands. As she poured coffee into a mug, they fell over her shoulders. She pulled it back, revealing a fresh face of makeup. I hadn’t even seen her put that much effort into her appearance for work.
I followed her out the back door into the mild, late morning air. Grey clouds filled the sky, casting a dull filter against the surrounding landscape.
Seever was as bad as I’d remembered him or worse, and although I’d never regretted the decision to film his sick acts and send the video to Donnie, Mathilda, and his teacher, I couldn’t have been more pleased with my decision after what happened in the study.
“Where’s Donnie?”
She sipped her tea and cradled the mug in her hands. “Rita and Annette are getting him ready.”
“They both came today?”
“To say goodbye.” Lane’s chest heaved. She’d put all the effort into looking nice for Donnie. Everything she did was for him, whether or not he’d notice or appreciate it. “He has an appointment to move in at three this afternoon. Roger will be there to install his TV and bring his chair. I’ll leave here at three which should give him enough time to have it all set before we arrive.”
