It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (27 page)

“Help me through the guilt.” Joe stood with
his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the ground. “Make sure I don’t backslide.
But I won’t, I know it.” He looked Jem in the eye. “Because I have Emma.”

Jem returned the card. “Thanks, Sid. I
don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say a thing. Joe,” Sid held his
hand out. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

Joe gave Sid’s hand a strong shake. “You
too, doc. Thanks for everything.”

wild-eyed,
unshaven and filthy

The cab pulled into the drive and slowed to
a stop. Joe stared at his home. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against
the back of the seat.

Jem patted his knee.

“It looks the same. Like nothing ever
happened. Like Emma will be in there making supper or finishing another
painting.” He shook his head and pressed the thumb and index finger of one hand
into his eyes.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Joe stared a minute longer. “Now. I’m ready
now.”

Jem and Joe exited the cool air-conditioned
back seat and stepped into the waning warmth of a late July evening.

Finn climbed out of the front and turned to
the driver. “Pop the trunk?” He pulled out Joe’s luggage and set it on the
driveway then leaned in the driver’s side window. “Can you wait down the drive?
We’ll be going back to the airport soon.”

The cab pulled away and stopped at the
entry to the property. Jem, Finn, and Joe stood staring at the house. Jem glanced
at Joe. “You okay?”

Tears streamed down his face. “I’m nervous.”

Before they could take a step towards the
veranda, the door squeaked on its hinges. Bill stood in the entry with Emma
balanced on one hip. As soon as he saw Joe, he shut his eyes tight and started
to sob. He embraced Emma with both arms. The baby looked from him to Joe, her
face screwed up like she was about to cry.

Joe’s gaze was fixed on Emma. He seemed
unwilling to even blink, his eyes wide, mouth agape.

Bill patted her back and kissed her cheek.
“Look Emma, it’s your daddy.” He pointed at Joe.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut, and began to weep.
Emma turned her head away and looked over Bill’s shoulder at the open door. He
made slow steps down the driveway. “Emma, look.” He held one of her hands
towards Joe.

Joe touched his fingers to hers. She turned
around and looked at him. He sobbed and wiped his eyes with his other hand.
“Hello, Emma.” He reached up and ran his hand through her hair. She grinned at
him but shied away, pulling towards Bill’s shoulder.

Bill stood her on the ground. She grabbed
him around the leg for support.

Joe laughed. “She can walk already?”

“Not yet. She stands if you hold her up or
if she has something to grab. She can pull herself onto the couch and crawl up
a few stairs.”

Jem dug into her purse, pulled out a small
stuffed bear and tapped Joe on the elbow with it. He took it and squatted in
front of his daughter.

“Look, sweetheart. Do you like bears? I
named this one Jemima.” He held the bear out for Emma. She reached out one hand
and touched its ear, then grabbed it and hugged it into her face before losing her
balance. She landed in the dirt on her diaper-padded bottom.

Joe swooped towards her and picked her up.
She squirmed and looked at Bill. Then she stopped and stared at her father’s
face. She tapped his cheek with one hand, poked his eyelid with one finger.
Then she smiled and laughed.

Joe held her close and sobbed. Emma looked
confused but she didn’t cry, didn’t pull away. She grasped his short hair with
one fist and pulled. Joe choked on a cry and smiled.

Bill wrapped his arms around Emma from
behind, his hands on Joe’s shoulders. The two men laughed and wept together.

The sun hung low on the horizon, framing
the three of them in orange light. Jem rubbed her hands against her arms and
shivered.

Finn took off his coat and placed it over
her shoulders. “Maybe we should let them be.”

She smiled at him and nodded. “Joe, we’re
going to head home.”

Joe broke away from Bill and stepped
towards Jem. “I know I’ve said this, but I don’t know how to repay you. I don’t
even understand why you cared.”

A vision of Gerald, wild-eyed, unshaven,
and filthy, running away from her in the park flashed through her mind.

“Something in your eyes. Something told me
you were missed.”

He hugged her, pressing Emma between them.
The little girl squealed with laughter, prompting the adults to laugh along
with her.

“You keep in touch, do you hear me? I want
regular updates on Emma. Photos and letters and emails, got it?” Jem wiped
tears from her cheeks.

“Absolutely.”

Jem and Finn walked to the cab. Before
sliding into the back seat, she gave Joe and Emma one last wave.

without
mothers

Jem leaned on the cool granite of the
kitchen island, her face warmed by the morning sunlight. She stared at her
grandmother’s ring that sat on the counter, the black pearl staring back at
her. She poked her index finger into the centre of the platinum disk and pushed
the ring around the granite before she picked it up, brought the ring to her
ear, and closed her eyes against a wave of sorrow. Gerald was gone for good. The
others were finally silent.

She placed the ring into the velvet lining
of the leather box she’d bought and snapped the box shut.

She glanced at the pink stationery at her
elbow. The page was bare except for the words
Dearest Emma
written in
Jem’s loose cursive at the top. She slid the page closer, picked up the pen,
and tapped it against her cheek. Then she began to write.

We have something in common, little Emma. We are both without
mothers. I got to know mine for a while, but I still feel lost at times, no
strong woman in my life to help guide me, confide in, share my triumphs and
joys, my sorrows and tragedies.

I am sending your daddy a ring that I want you to have when
you are old enough. It belonged to my grandmother. She died when I was very
young, before I can even remember. I’ve kept it as a reminder of her, but
really, what am I reminded of? Not my own memories, my own feelings. No, it
just reminds me that my grandmother is another woman that is not here.

I know your daddy and uncle love you enough to fill the empty
space in your life. I will never replace your mother, but I’d like you to be
part of my family. I will be here for you, Emma, when you need me. Even when
you don’t, even just to chat, to connect.

Tell your daddy to send pictures. And visit often. I will come
to see you, too. We can play on your lovely swings.

Love to you, sweet girl.

Jemima

kiss her again

The air was crisp but the sun shone bright
on a warm Saturday in October. Leaves fluttered in the slight breeze, a rainbow
of fall colours surrounded the park. Vibrant reds and oranges and yellows stood
out against the background of forest green pine and fir that dotted the
riverside.

Jem breathed in the aroma of fall — the
cleanliness of pine sap mixed with earthy rotting leaves and just a hint of
urine.

She adjusted her fitted woolen jacket and
smoothed the front of her ivory skirt. She made her way across the grass, the
heels of her new pumps sinking in the soft earth. She shifted her weight and
moved along on tiptoes. People on either side of her smiled and nodded.

Frank and Angus stood amid a small crowd of
park residents. Had they cut their hair and trimmed their beards? Frank even
sported a new hand-me-down coat. They cleaned up pretty nice. Jeremy nibbled on
one of her brownies. When she caught his eye, he beamed at her through cocoa
covered teeth and waved.

Dean was sandwiched between Anna and Marjorie.
Those three were the closest thing Jem had to family, other than the people who
called the park home. Beyond them stood a grouping of cops, some in uniform,
some in suits, Beryl front and centre, looking pretty in a black dress and red
stilettos.

A few feet to her right, Joseph stood
strong and proud in a suit and tie. He smiled wide, his cheeks glowed healthy
pink. Emma sat on his shoulders in the frilled lilac dress Jem had sent for
her. Bill stood beside them, one hand on Emma’s back, protecting her to the
bitter end.

Fifty feet ahead, Finn stood at attention and
watched Jem’s approach. A knowing smile graced his face. When she was within
two yards, he stepped forward and took one of her hands. He placed his other
hand behind her head and bent towards her. One finger lifted the short mesh
that hung from her pillbox hat and tickled the tip of her nose. He kissed her
right there in front of everyone.

Public displays of affection. Oh how she
loved them.

“Kiss her again!”

The crowd broke into laughter. Finn looked
around. “If you say so, Angus.”

He pulled her to him, put both arms around
her and kissed her while their friends cheered.

Someone cleared her throat.

Jem and Finn turned to face a woman who
stood in front of the shrub where Joe used to sit. A white judge’s robe hung to
her calves.

“Normally, kissing the bride waits until
after the vows. But Jemima and Finn have made it very clear — we aren’t to
stand on ceremony today.”

 **END**

Thank
you for taking time to read
It Isn’t Cheating if He’s Dead
. If you
enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. 
Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and is much appreciated.

about the author

Julie Frayn pens award-winning novels and
short stories that pack a punch. And a few stabs. She has published three
novels and two short, short story collections.

Julie’s first novel,
Suicide City, a
Love Story
, won two gold medals in the 2013 Authorsdb cover contest.
It
Isn’t Cheating If He’s Dead
, is the Books and Pals 2014 Readers’ Choice
winner for women’s fiction. Her third novel,
Mazie Baby,
was named to
three “best of 2014” lists including Indiereader.com, Readfree.ly, and Suspense
Magazine.

Watch for
Goody One Shoe
– coming in
May 2015.

A proud Canadian, Julie calls the beautiful
province of Alberta home. Though she’s grown up on the edge of the Rocky
Mountains in a city with the unfortunate nickname “Cow Town” – she doesn’t ski,
hates steak, and listens to good old rock and roll.

In grade school, Julie was a math whiz,
loved to write stories and poems in English class, and had an artistic flair
for pencil drawings and pen and ink pointillism. When it came time to choose a
career, she was torn between three loves. Her artistic brain ached to create. But
her practical side, and the need to eat, won out. She devoted her career to
numbers. She counts beans by day, but still revels in the written word.

After years of writing on the down low, she
finally came out as a full-fledged writer when she published her first novel in
2013.
Suicide City, a Love Story
began as a short story in 1998. That’s
a pretty long incubation period! But with the first click of that publish
button, she never looked back. She wrote and published two more novels in the
next fifteen months, with a fourth well on the way.

When she isn’t working or writing, Julie
spends as much time as possible with her two children (grown adults, really),
while they still think she’s cool.s.

Julie can be found all over the world wide
web. Please connect with her online:

Twitter: 
http://twitter.com/juliefrayn

Facebook: 
http://facebook.com/JulieBirdFrayn

Website: 
http://juliebird.ca

Smashwords: 
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/juliefrayn

Julie’s other works include:

Mazie Baby
Sick and tired of her husband’s beatings, Mazie Reynolds plans her
escape. When his attentions shift to their 12 year-old daughter, escaping may
not be enough.

Suicide City, a Love
Story
A runaway farm girl falls in love with a
drug-addicted street kid battling to stay clean. Will she save him? Or will he
ruin her?

Two
Wins and an Honourable Mention
A collection of
three dark and twisted tales that are macabre, disturbing, and completely
riveting.

A
Trilogy of Unrelated Shorts
Three short-short
stories that will rip at your heart. And maybe your gut.

acknowledgements

I have the world’s greatest children. I
know what you’re thinking - everyone thinks their children are the best. Honestly,
I am not biased, simply observant. My kids rock, and I’d be nothing without
their love, humour, sarcasm, hugs, and kisses. Thank you Brynn and Charlie. For
making me proud every day, and for being proud of me.