Chapter 14 #2
“And that’s Christopher—Chris! My brother!” he said, and pointed at the next. This one showed a young man who looked much
like Cole, but less lanky and with darker features, smiling from the deck of a boat somewhere. “And that’s—” He paused and
silently stared at the next photo. In it, Cole and his brother stood with arms looped around their parents: Mrs. Lewis, whom
they’d already met, and Mr. Lewis, who looked like Cole and Christopher mashed together but older and softer around the edges.
The four of them stood on a beach somewhere, smiling in the golden-hour sun.
“That’s my family,” Cole said in wonder. His voice pitched in a way that squeezed Dell’s heart. Each declaration carried the
awe of discovering something new and the ache over longing for it.
Cole turned to her, eyes wide. “Dell, I remember them. I know them!” The excitement dancing in his eyes set that soul-deep brown alight with cheer. “Christopher lives in LA, but he’s not
in movies, he’s in music. And my dad loves to garden, and my mom—she’s the reason I became an English professor. She teaches high school English and
used to read to me every night as a kid. We had our own book club when I was a teenager.”
Watching Cole’s life come back to him was like opening a gift. Dell’s joy was almost equal to his as knowledge of who he was
and where he’d come from filled his face.
Cole gripped her shoulders. “Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you!” He kissed her cheek—Robbie’s cheek—and took off down
the hall, Chaucer on his heels. “Mom! It’s me! I came back, I’m—”
Dell hurried after him to find the scene that had stopped Cole in his tracks: his mother fluffing the pillows on the sofa
and waving Jason over to sit, and his father having come in from the French doors leading to the backyard.
“It’s me,” Cole said again, his tone much sadder this time. As if he realized he wouldn’t be taking part in this gathering
the same way the others would.
Dell gripped his hand again and led him to the couch where she sat next to Jason, with Cole in between them. She knew Jason
noticed by the way his left arm broke out in goose bumps and the little shimmy of his shoulders.
“What can I get you boys to drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?” Mrs. Lewis asked with a smile. She had the same deep brown eyes as
her son.
“I’d love some iced tea,” Jason said.
“Me too,” Dell echoed.
“Coming right up,” she said, and then clucked her tongue at her husband. “David, you’re tracking dirt inside.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” Mr. Lewis said in a fluster that sounded much like Cole. He went to kick off his green Crocs and almost
tripped.
Dell couldn’t help but quietly laugh. “Guess clumsiness runs in the family,” she muttered.
Cole cast her a teasing glare. “My dad loves to garden,” he said like he was puzzling something out. “He sells vegetables
at the farmers’ market.”
“Sorry about the dirt, Care,” he said to his wife. “But the good news is, the tomatoes look great. Should have a nice haul
for the farmers’ market next weekend.”
Dell and Cole swapped a look.
“That’s lovely, dear,” Mrs. Lewis said. “I’ll be right back with some drinks.”
“It’s a good thing you asked for iced tea, because my mom uses fresh lemons from the yard to make lemonade, and it’s always
too tart,” Cole whispered, as if he might offend his mother, even though no one but Dell could hear.
“So, how did you two know Cole?” Mr. Lewis said, and sat in the armchair adjacent to the couch.
“We were in the same program in grad school,” Jason said. “And Robbie here is my grad student now. He was interested in Cole’s
work, and I was so sorry to hear about his passing when I went to look him up for an introduction.”
Mr. Lewis nodded. “Our boy did a lot of good work. He is missed by many.” His voice choked up at the end of his sentence.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Lewis,” Dell said. “Your son is an amazing person—was! an amazing person. I mean, I wish I could have met him . . .” She felt Robbie’s face ignite both from her stumble and from the death glare Jason shot her.
Mr. Lewis cast her an odd look right as Mrs. Lewis returned carrying a tray of drinks. “Here you go: fresh iced tea. Good
choice too, because I’ve been told my lemonade is a little on the tart side.”
Cole gave Dell a knowing wink. Part of her wanted to leave Robbie’s body so she could talk freely to Cole. But that would
only leave Robbie lost and confused as to why he was having tea in a Berkeley living room with a bunch of strangers.
“Thank you so much,” Jason said, and accepted a glass. Dell did the same and sipped the sweet tea.
“My pleasure,” Mrs. Lewis said, and sat in the matching armchair beside her husband’s. “So, you met Cole in graduate school.
Are you an English professor too?”
“Of course he is, Care,” Mr. Lewis said. “And this is his graduate student who wanted to meet Cole.”
“Oh, forgive me. You did already tell us that,” Mrs. Lewis said with a sweet smile. “My memory isn’t what it used to be, but
I’ve heard grief can do that sometimes.”
Mr. Lewis reached his hand into the space between their chairs, and she placed hers into it.
Cole shifted beside Dell. Chaucer had curled into a ball at his feet and was happily snoring.
“We appreciate you welcoming us into your home like this,” Jason said.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Lewis said. “The hole he left in our hearts will never be filled, but we are always glad to hear from his
friends, or anyone who knew him.”
“They say no one should speak ill of the dead, but I honestly don’t think there’s anything negative anyone could say about Cole,” Mr. Lewis said with an assured nod. “Other than perhaps he wasn’t the most skilled on skis.”
Mrs. Lewis clucked her tongue and cast him a glare.
“What?” Mr. Lewis defended with a shrug. “Cole would say the same if he was sitting here today.”
“It’s true. I am not good on skis,” Cole said to only Dell’s ears.
“I wish he hadn’t gone on that trip,” Mrs. Lewis said. “It was a—”
“Bachelor party weekend for one of my friends,” Cole said at the same time his mother did.
“If only they would have done something more traditional like a weekend in Vegas . . .” Mrs. Lewis said with a shake of her
head.
“We can’t change the past, my love,” Mr. Lewis said.
The sight of them comforting each other made Dell think of her own parents, and how the Lewis family and the Rodgers family
would surely get along.
Mrs. Lewis sighed a deeply pained and resigned sound. She slightly shook her head as if to ease the feeling. “No, we can’t.
But we can look toward the future. You said you are interested in Cole’s work?” She nodded at Dell, and it took Dell a moment
to remember she was supposed to be a twentysomething English lit grad student.
“I am!” she said with perhaps too much gusto and a hint of nerves. She hadn’t thought she’d be the one in hot water, having to lie about her knowledge of English literature. That was supposed to be Jason. The last
English class she’d taken was as an undergrad before she went to culinary school. She discreetly cast Cole a nervous look,
hoping dearly he remembered what his work was on and could coach her through the rest of this conversation.
“My work was on interpretation of the metaphysical symbolism found in the nineteenth-century novel,” Cole said like it was imprinted on his brain.
“The what now?” Dell whispered.
He elbowed her in the side in reminder that to everyone else, she was talking to the empty space between Robbie and Jason.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, I am very interested in, um . . . his work,” she said to his mother. She couldn’t even pretend
to repeat what he’d said.
Mrs. Lewis lovingly batted her hands. “We never understood his work anyway. We just knew he loved it and always had his nose
in a book or a research paper. We were so proud of him.”
Dell sighed in relief that she’d dodged a bullet and they weren’t going to grill her.
“Actually,” Mrs. Lewis said, and started to climb out of her chair. “We’ve got his old notebooks in storage, if you’d like
to see them.”
“Really?” Dell asked in hopeful surprise.
Cole perked up beside her.
“Yes. We gave a lot of things back to the university, but his personal notebooks are in the spare room. I’m sure he’d be happy
to have someone use them instead of them turning yellow in a dusty box.”
“We would love to see them,” Dell said, and stood.
Cole sprang up beside her, which of course made Chaucer stand up too.
“He seems to really like you,” Mrs. Lewis said with a smile down at the dog.
“Dogs are the best,” Dell said, and patted his head, not letting on it wasn’t her winning the furball’s affection at all.
They followed Mrs. Lewis down the hall to a bedroom that was half guest room, half memorial to Cole.
A queen-size bed with a neat blue comforter took up the room’s center.
Adjacent to it was a bulky wooden desk stacked with books, bound manuscripts, a few framed photos, awards like Educator of the Year and Faculty Mentor of the Year.
Cole’s PhD hung in a frame above the desk, alongside a photo of him in a cap and gown that looked more suited for a wizard.
“When we closed the lease on his condo, we moved his important things here,” Mrs. Lewis said, and slid back one of the closet
doors to reveal a row of file boxes piled five high. “We might move it to storage someday, but we are not ready to part with
any of it yet.” She lovingly ran her hand over a crimson-and-black gown with white velvet stripes on the puffy sleeve. It
was the same one Cole was wearing in the photo above his desk.
“I hated that thing,” Cole said. “It’s so heavy and hot, and the hood almost choked me.”
Dell was biting Robbie’s lip at the thought of him wearing it. Or maybe just the hood and nothing else. Until that moment,
she didn’t know academic regalia did something for her.
Mrs. Lewis let out a sniffle. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to look around. Please excuse me.” When she turned to leave, Cole
reached out for her.
“Mom, wait—” he said.