It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (21 page)

Nibbles on her shoulder and caresses to her
thighs turned into a long session of early-morning lovemaking. Morning breath
be damned. No shower, no problem. Nothing seemed to faze him. The smell of her own
scent on his breath, the musk of his body odor, the salt of his sweat only
fueled the passion, drove her further and further towards ecstasy.

It couldn’t last forever. All great loves
cooled at some point, fell victim to the rut of daily life. Until that
happened, she’d take every second she was given. And afterwards, she’d settle
into the comfort of life with Finn. If he’d have her. Even routine days with him
were bound to hold more passion than the best days with Gerald.

What a traitor. At some point she needed to
get past the constant comparisons and live for herself alone. For herself and
Finn. Not for a dead man who’d abandoned her when she could have helped him the
most.

Jem stepped out of the marble shower and
wiped steam from the mirror. The same old face stared back at her but something
had changed. She no longer focused on her imperfections. She’d begun to like
the one crooked tooth and the golden eyes she’s always thought were so weird.
She combed out her hair and searched the drawers for a hairdryer. Nothing. But
why would he need one? His hair was dry the second he ran a towel over it.

She wrapped a huge, soft bath towel around
her and opened the door. Finn lay on his back on an exercise mat on the floor, a
huge weight in each hand, his knees bent. With each push of the dumbbells
skyward, he exhaled in an audible huff. Sweat glistened on his biceps, which bulged
from the exercise, every sinew shown off by black athletic shorts and a tight, grey
muscle-shirt.

Her cheeks flushed. It was all she could do
not to jump his bones right then and there. She sidled up to him and bent over
him, stared down at his face, red and dripping.

He laughed and set the weights down. “I’m
not used to an audience. Makes me a bit self-conscious.”

“I didn’t think you had a self-conscious
bone in your body.”

He sat up and rubbed a towel across his
face and down both arms. “I’ll grab a shower then take you to get your van.”

“And make sandwiches.”

“We can do that here.”

She cocked her head and furrowed her brow.
“What, you got your own personal grocery store out back?”

 “Bacon, tomato, lettuce, tuna, roast beef,
cheese, bread. I got it all downstairs. Coffee’s ready. I’ll help with the food
in five.” He eyed her up and down. “And I’ll get a hairdryer today so you have
one here. Sorry, never thought of that.”

“That would be the only thing you didn’t
think of.” She stared at him and crossed her arms. “What the hell is the matter
with you?”

His eyes widened. “Did I — are you —” He
shook his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re too perfect. There has to be
something seriously wrong with you, some dastardly skeletons in the family
closet. Do you gamble? Are you an alcoholic? Secretly gay?” She smiled and ran
a hand over his sweaty head. “Come on, spill the beans, big fella. Don’t make
me go looking for it.”

“You little brat. I thought you were upset
with me.” He reached up and tugged the towel free from her grip. He tossed it
aside, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor.

She giggled and squirmed. “You’re all
sweaty.”

He rolled on top of her, rubbed his body
over hers and licked the side of her face. “Now you have to join me in the
shower.”

“I think I figured out your one big flaw.”

He sucked her earlobe and shifted his body until
he was between her spread legs. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re insatiable!”

“You want me to stop?”

His erection prodded her thigh through his
shorts. He bit her neck and worked his way down her body, sucking a nipple and
kissing her ribs before he slid down and lifted her legs over his shoulders.

All thoughts disappeared from her mind. She
closed her eyes.

The soft heat of his tongue inside of her
sent waves aching through her body. He held her thighs and probed, stroked,
sucked.

Her back arched, fingers dug into the mat.
An orgasm released loud groans from deep in her chest. She eased her grip on the
mat, her breath coming fast and shallow.

He kissed her thighs, her belly, her
breasts, her neck, and made his way up to her face.

She stared into his mischievous eyes. “No,
don’t stop. Don’t. Ever. Stop.” She brought up her legs, gripped the waistband
of his shorts with her toes and tugged them down.

They set up an assembly line along the
granite island. Finn spread mustard and mayo on bread. Jem added meat, tomato,
and cheese. When enough sandwiches were prepared, they wrapped them with parchment
and packed them into boxes alongside fruit and juice. He’d thought of
everything.

“I almost forgot.” He opened the fridge and
pulled two Oh! Henry’s from the butter keeper in the door. “For Joe.”

Most thoughtful man ever.

“Thank you. I hope he can put on some
weight.” She tucked the bars into a box. “Any word from the Regina police?”

“Anders has been calling twice a day. It
doesn’t seem to be a priority for them. I’ll check in with her and let you
know.” He slid behind her, kissed her cheek, and hugged her to him on the way
by. “In the meantime.” He pulled a small box from a drawer under the wine rack.
“I have something to return to you.” He placed the box in her hand.

She glanced up at him and opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in a bed of cotton fluff, clean and sparkling, her grandmother’s
ring glinted in the morning sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I can have it back?”

“Not evidence anymore. It’s all yours.”

He plucked the ring from the box and took
her left hand.

Her heart leapt. Gerald’s engagement ring
may as well have been a flashing neon light. Look, Finn, it said. I haven’t let
go yet. I’m hanging on to a ghost.

He hesitated. “Where do you wear it?”

She held up her right hand and wiggled the
ring finger.

He smiled. “Right. Of course.” He slid it
on. “Seems kind of big.”

“I might have lost some weight. Probably this
new sexercise regimen you’ve got me on.” She moved the ring to her middle
finger. “There, that works.”

Jem and Finn stood at the side door to her
van and necked in the morning sunshine. Finn was late for work, but he didn’t
seem to care.

He pulled away from her and wiggled his
eyebrows. “My place or yours?”

She put both of her palms flat against his
chest. “Let’s play it by ear. How late will you be?”

“Should be before seven. But you never
know. Sorry, I can’t make any promises.”

“I know. That’s fine. Text me later?”

“Definitely.”

She waved when he pulled away from the curb
and watched him until he turned right at the stop sign. She shut the van and
ran into the house, swapped her high heels and snug skirt for flip flops and walking
shorts. The reflection of the pearl ring in the mirror made her hesitate. It
had been years since she’d seen it, years since she’d worn it. It was
beautiful, but clunky and awkward. And she saw Gerald’s face whenever she
looked at the pearl.

She yanked it off her finger and tucked it
in beneath her underwear, slammed the drawer and raced out of the house.

When she pulled up to the park, her regular
spot was taken. It took two trips around the block before she found an opening.

“Ruby, you’re late, love. We were worried
about you. Where you been?”

“Sorry guys. I didn’t feel well yesterday.
And I might start coming a little later from now on. I never have to go to the
office anymore, so I can make my own hours.” And she could think of no good reason
to maintain Gerald's old time schedule.

Frank and Angus shared a look.

“You okay, Jem?” Frank cocked his head to
one side, his eyebrows knit. “You didn’t lose your job or nothing did you?”

“Didn’t lose it. Chose to leave. Going to
open my own law practice.”

Angus slapped her on the shoulder. “Good
for you. Work for your own benefit, not some asshole big shot in the corner
office. No boss? No problem.”

“You got it. And if you two ever need a
lawyer, I’d never charge you a cent.”

“That’s mighty generous of you.” Frank
nodded. “But we never needed a lawyer before.”

“Good to hear.”

She made her way around the park, handed
out food, and let the residents all know the change of time. Last stop was Joe.

“Hey, Joe. How is today treating you?”

He shrugged and took the offered food.

“Here, two Oh! Henry’s. To make up for
missing yesterday. Courtesy of my boyfriend.”

He smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” His voice was
stronger than before. Like he’d been using it in her absence.

“You’re welcome. I’ll tell him you said
so.”

She let him finish his breakfast and
gathered up his garbage as had become their custom. She’d decided on the drive
to the park that it was time to push for details. Time to figure out who this
man was and what horrible event had scarred him, physically and mentally. Time
to help him heal.

She cleared her throat. “Joe?” It came out
as a mere whisper. Her heart pounded. She cocked her head to one side and
looked him in the eye. “Are you Joseph Carlisle?”

He froze. Sweat beaded on his brow. His gaze
darted all around the park and then he shifted sideways. He was going to bolt.

“No, Joe. Don’t leave. It’s all right.” She
put a hand on his arm and patted it.

He settled back down. His eyes filled with
tears. “How?”

“I checked into missing persons cases.
Someone in Regina is looking for you Joe. Who is it?”

He shook his head. “No one.”

“If it was no one, you wouldn’t be in the
database. Do you remember what happened?” She touched the scar above his eye.
“How this happened?”

He turned his head. “Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. I understand.” She looked around the
park. “Well, no I don’t understand. But it’s none of my damn business.” She
took the second sandwich and handed it to him. “I’m sorry for intruding, Joe. I
worry for you. I want you to get your life back. You don’t belong here.”

How could she breach the walls he’d built?
Not mere baby steps — she wanted a jump-over-the-cliff, leap-before-you-look,
honest-to-goodness breakthrough.

“Joe, if you want to talk to someone, the
shelter has people willing to listen. They know their stuff. And you would be
in control. Tell them as much or as little as you choose. Stop any time.”

He crossed his arms. “Maybe.”

“Okay. That’s better than no.” She stood
and brushed grass from her backside. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

He stared at the sandwich, his shoulders
slumped. Then he shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Will you let me help you?”

He looked up at her and sighed. “I don’t
know.”

“Good enough for now. See you tomorrow.”

whatever it
takes

Jem tossed empty boxes down the basement
steps. She sat on a towel on the bare cement and pulled medical journals and
reference manuals from Gerald’s shelves. She filled one box destined for Dean’s
office at the university. Dust floated in a ray of sun that streamed in through
the small window above the washing machine. A tingle built up in her chest, and
a loud sneeze broke the silence.

She tried to lift the box. Nothing doing. She
set her jaw, put her shoulder to the box and pushed. It didn’t budge.”God damn
it!” She kicked the box. “Shit, shit, shit.” She kicked it with each curse,
every blow an exorcism of the anger and frustration and hurt that she wanted to
unleash on Gerald. She kicked it until a small hole broke open and her big toe
throbbed.

Arms across her chest, she stood back and
surveyed the damage. “Stupid idiot,” she said aloud. Where was the duct tape?

Would it be weird to ask Finn to help her
take it out to the van? Yes, it would. She sent Dean a text asking when he’d
like to pick it up.

She pitched winter boots, scarves and
gloves into a second box. Her defiance of all Gerald’s order and exactitude was
complete when that box stood full, a jumbled, unfolded confusion of disorder.
Another empty box stood at her feet, ready for its open maw to be filled with another
cluttered pile of his belongings.

She stood in front of the clothes rack in
the basement. She always loathed the semi-annual chore of swapping warm-weather
jackets and shoes for winter gear. That was one thing she and Gerald both
disliked about their little house. The little closets.

She grasped the hanger that held his heavy faux-sheepskin
coat, still in the plastic from its last annual spring trip to the dry cleaner four
years ago. She lifted it from the rack. Its weight surprised her and pulled her
arm straight down. The coat landed on the floor. How did he ever haul this
thing around on his spare frame? She shed the plastic, rolled the coat and
crammed it into the box on top of the other winter wear.