Chapter 21 Matt
matt
I came home late Thursday evening—I’d been to a three-day conference in D.C.—and was greeted at the door by both daughters and Jillian.
“Our room’s all sketched up and Hope’s ready to start painting!” Sophie said breathlessly as she hugged my neck.
“Come and see!” Zoey took me by the hand and pulled me toward the stairs. “We’re all in the picture.”
“Is Hope still here?”
“No,” Jillian said. “She left about half an hour ago.”
I followed a prancing Sophie up the stairs, feeling a little tug of disappointment. The thought of seeing Hope had added lead to my foot on the drive home from the airport.
In the bedroom, Sophie stood against the wall and flung out both arms. “Isn’t it bootiful, Daddy?”
I had to step closer to see it. In very light pencil, Hope had drawn stone walls and two large arched windows.
The view out one of the windows showed a sprawling hill with a winding trail leading from a forest toward us.
On the trail, two little princesses in flowing gowns rode ponies over a drawbridge.
“Look—that’s us!”
I looked closer, and the faces of the princesses were, indeed, Zoey and Sophie.
“And there you are, Daddy!”
Zoey’s finger pointed to a knight accompanying them over the bridge, sitting astride a tall steed, holding his helmet. The face bore an uncanny likeness to me.
“She put Mommy in, too!” Sophie said.
“Up in the clouds,” Zoey pointed again. “See?”
Sure enough, right where the sun was breaking through the clouds, hovered an angel with Christine’s face. My heart warmed. Without thinking, I reached up and ran my hand over it.
“An’ look here,” said Sophie, pointing to another part of the photo.
“She put Gramma and Grandpop an’ Aunt Jillian in there, too!
” I looked closer. Sure enough, the three of them were climbing out of a carriage in the courtyard out the second painted window.
The likenesses were disconcertingly accurate.
“We need to move the furniture so she can start painting,” Zoey said.
“Yeah. An’ we’re gonna need to sleep in the other room.”
“I’ll move your furniture first thing in the morning,” I said.
Jillian clapped her hands together. “All right, girls, it’s past bedtime. I let you stay up to show your father the room, but now you need to go brush your teeth.”
They reluctantly trudged off. Jillian smiled at me. An awkward silence grew between us. I wished she would just go. “Thanks for staying with them.”
“My pleasure. Did you have a good trip?”
I nodded. “Always good to be home, though. And now that I am, I’m sure you’ve got things you need to do.”
“Not really. Do you want some dinner?”
“No. I grabbed something at the airport.”
Her face fell. “Well, I’ll go clean up the kitchen, then.”
“Leave it. I’ll get it after I tuck the girls in bed.”
“It’s no problem.” She left the room just as the girls came back in. The girls knelt and said their prayers, then climbed into their twin beds. I pulled up a chair and read two chapters of Pippi Longstocking. After kisses and tuck-ins, I went downstairs.
Jillian was in the kitchen, wiping an already immaculate countertop. She turned and smiled, her face expectant. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks.”
“I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.”
Yeah, I could—but the person I wanted to talk to was Hope. I needed to tell her what a great job she’d done on the wall sketch. “What I could really use is about twenty minutes of fresh air. Would you mind staying with the girls while I run out for a bit?”
Her smile dimmed, but it didn’t vanish. “Not at all. Go right ahead.”
“Thanks.” I walked out, closed the door, and drew in a deep breath. Sometimes the air was so heavy with expectation around Jillian I found it hard to draw a lungful.
I walked across the lawn—deliberately breaking my own rules about sticking to the sidewalk—and knocked on Miss Addie’s door. A stocky, graying woman in scrubs opened it.
“I’m the next-door neighbor,” I explained. “I was wondering if I could see Hope for a moment.”
“She’s out walking the dog,” the woman said.
“Do you know which way she went?”
“She headed off that way.” She pointed to her left.
I took off at a jog. A block later, I spotted her on the side street, underneath a streetlamp. She turned at the sound of my footsteps.
“Hi!” I called, slowing as I approached.
“Hi, yourself. What are you running from?”
I fell into step beside her. “Maybe I’m running toward something. Or someone.”
It sounded more profound than I’d meant it to be. I cleared my throat. “Actually, I just wanted to catch up with you and tell you the mural looks great. Although I’m not sure that I deserve to be depicted as a knight in shining armor.”
“Your girls think so.” She smiled. “And after saving my grandmother’s photos, I think so, too.”
The compliment left me disconcerted. “Well, the girls love all of it—the pictures of themselves and Jillian and Peggy and Griff.” I paused. “And their mother.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you were pretty upset the other day when I was looking at the photos, so I didn’t know if you’d approve.”
Once more, I regretted how I’d overreacted. “You caught me off balance, that’s all. Sorry I was so harsh.”
“No worries. I understand how some things can push buttons.” Snowball tugged on the leash, and she started walking.
I fell into step beside her.
“What was your conference about?” she asked.
To my surprise, I told her. I described a bunch of new federal regulations, and she not only listened but also asked questions.
I told her about the big case that was taking up most of my time.
It felt great to talk to someone who wasn’t working with me or against me, who seemed really interested and engaged—so great I lost all track of time.
When my phone buzzed, I pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then grimaced.
“It’s Jillian. I told her I’d be back in twenty minutes, and it’s been nearly forty-five. ”
Hope and I had circled around on our walk and were now only about a block from our homes. We stopped. “Are you and Jillian . . .”
I knew what she was asking, but I didn’t help her out. I just stood there and waited for her to flat out ask. I didn’t have to wait long.
“. . . involved?”
I shook my head. “She’s my sister-in-law, that’s all.”
“Seems like there’s more to it than that.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because she’s at your house all the time, and . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“And what?”
“Well, I’ve picked up a certain vibe. And there’s no reason you couldn’t date her.”
“Yeah, there is.” I waited until she looked up and met my gaze. “I don’t want to.”
“Oh.”
Damn, I wished there were more light, because her expression changed and I couldn’t get a good read on it before she looked down at Snowball. She watched him sniff the grass as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Have you dated since your wife . . .”
Why did people shy away from the word? Did they think I’d forgotten what had happened to her? “Died?”
She nodded.
I lifted my shoulders. “A few times. Why do you ask?”
“Well, your wife was beautiful, and everyone talks about how wonderful she was.”
“Yeah, she was. So?”
“So I’d imagine it would be hard to find anyone who can measure up.”
“I don’t expect anyone to measure up.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and dug around for the words. “I mean, I’m not looking for an exact replacement, like a lightbulb.”
“Still, I would think it would be hard not to compare someone new against her.” Hope angled her face up at me, her eyes earnest and bright.
“I’ve done a lot of reading about moving on after a marriage ends since my divorce.
Not that my divorce was anything like losing your wife—your tragedy was much, much greater.
” Her eyebrows pulled together, and I could see she was worried she’d offended me again.
Once more, I felt a stab of remorse for acting like such a jerk around her.
“Anyway, from what I read, apparently the first few times you’re with someone new, it’s inevitable that you’ll be thinking of the ways the person is physically like or unlike your ex—or in your case, deceased .
. . or late . . . or missing . . . or . .
. Oh, you know what I mean.” She looked down.
It was too dark to see her face, but I was pretty sure she was blushing.
The fast, nonstop way she was talking was a dead giveaway that she was rattled.
“The point is, when you kiss them, chances are you’ll be thinking about your spouse. ”
I looked at her, amused. “Is that right.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, personally. I mean, that’s what I read. I still have to go through it.”
I gave her a teasing smile. “Want me to help you out?”
I thought I’d embarrass her into silence, but when Hope was on a roll, apparently there was no stopping her mouth.
“What a chivalrous offer! I mean, you’re really living up to your picture on the mural.
Not that a real knight would actually kiss a lady—not on the mouth, I mean.
I don’t think real knights touched a lady except maybe on the hand.
We studied the Middle Ages pretty extensively in my art history classes, and . . .”
I’d made the offer in jest, but then I looked at her mouth, which had abruptly quit moving, and I realized she was looking at mine.
And then . . . well, it just happened. I’m not sure of the specifics—if I stepped toward her, or she leaned toward me, or if we both moved simultaneously.
I just know that the minute my mouth made contact with hers, an arrow of heat shot through my chest, down my belly, and kept on traveling south.
My arms found their way around her, and hers wrapped around me, and then everything got all hot and smoky and urgent.
I pulled her closer, and she stood on her tiptoes and pressed into my erection, and . . .
A car rounded the corner, the headlights glaring. Snowball barked. We simultaneously jumped away from each other.
We stood there, breathing hard, awkward and self-conscious as the car passed. Hope shifted Snowball’s leash to her other hand.
“Well,” I had the genius to say.
“Yeah. Well,” she echoed.
I hooked my thumb in the direction of my house. “I, uh, better be getting back.”
“Me, too.” But she didn’t move. We stood there, staring at each other, the awkwardness swelling to a crescendo.
“So, thanks for helping me past that hurdle,” she said.
My brain was still swaddled in lust. It took me a moment to recall what we’d been talking about. “No problem. Glad to be of service.”
I could think of another service I’d like to provide, but offering it would only make the situation worse.
She smiled at me—a quick, amused, embarrassed little half smile that made my temperature start rising all over again. “I’d better get Snowball home.”
I nodded and trudged along beside her. At the sidewalk to her grandmother’s porch, she turned to me.
“I didn’t think of him.” She spoke so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.
“What?”
“My ex. When you . . . when we . . .” She ducked her head. “I didn’t think of him.” She flew up the porch steps, opened the door, and slipped inside before I could muster a response.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door. Because the truth of the matter was, I hadn’t thought of Christine, either.