October Snow (25 page)

She snuggled against him, and he said, “So you told the girls you’d be there on Monday.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“Samantha,” he kissed the top of her head, loving the sound of her name on his lips. “I’m going to miss you.” He tightened his hold. “A lot.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she murmured sleepily. “You and Ty can come up any time you want, though.”

“Mmm. I already got used to having you here.”

She pulled her head away, looking up at him. “I’ll be back, Dave.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” She stood then. “I should check on Ty. See if he’s asleep yet.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her onto his lap. “Wait. Just one more minute. I want to talk to you.”

“Okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, settling in and waiting.

“See, the thing is…” He paused, taking a deep breath.

He sounded so earnest, so completely unguarded–it was the part of him that Sam loved the most. She nodded encouragingly.

“You know, I have a career that turns on my stellar ability to convince people to see things my way. But with you, Sammy, I just can’t find the words.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I keep thinking, if I say what I really want to say, you’ll be gone.”

She bit her lip, guilty. “Oh, Dave…Really?”

He nodded, looking over her shoulder, out at the street that ran along the back of the house. “Brave, huh?”

She shrugged. “Once burned. More like seven or eight times burned.”

“Eleven.”

“Huh?”

“I asked you to marry me eleven times over the years.”

“Oh.” She felt her pulse quickening, and realized that she had to tell him. Now. “Dave…”

He heard her tone, and the hesitation there, and put his finger to her lips. “No. I’m going to say this.”

“But…”

“Please, Sammy. Just let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I love you.” He paused, lightheaded that he had finally said it. “And I’m going for broke this time. I’m just…” He stopped again, collecting himself. “I’ve loved you so much that I don’t remember
not
loving you, and this time, I’m here until it’s resolved. Once and for all. Whether it’s ‘til death do us part, or it’s you saying ‘no’, I’m
not
living in limbo anymore. I can’t. None of us can. We’ll work it all out, if we just hang on to each other. Have a little faith in us, you know?”

Her eyes turned soft, dreamy. “’Til death do us part?”

“Yeah. Samantha, please–marry me.” He paused again. “I mean–wait, let me up.” She stood as he scrambled to his feet, dropping on his knee before her. He took her hand, pressing something into it; she had the fleeting impression that it was a card of some kind, but her eyes were fixed on his. “
Will
you marry me? I love you, Samantha. So much. I should have fought for you before, and I didn’t. Let me make it up to you.”

She smiled in spite of her tears. He stood, taking her by the shoulders. “You said it’s over with Car-boy.”

She nodded, laughing at the nickname he used. “Long ago, Dave.”

“Please, Sammy. You just need a little faith. We can do this. The three of us–we can do anything.”

The three of us
.

She looked at the card he had put in her hand, her tears flowing freely now as she saw what it was: she was holding the picture of the three of them, the one she kept with her for all the years, the lonely, sad years that had passed without him. She had left it under her pillow that morning.

Wedged inside the laminate sleeve was a ring. The large diamond was surrounded by tiny sapphires, a mirror image of the pendant that Dave and Tyler had bought for her.

He was watching her closely. “I thought, maybe the problem the other times was that I didn’t have a diamond for you,” he said teasingly. “Besides, I needed to outdo Tyler’s eloquence with the necklace.”

She fought to catch her breath. “Dave, I just love you so much.” She looked up at him.

He waited, his hands still on her shoulders.

She nodded, knowing she would hate herself for not telling him, deciding she would figure it out later.

“You nodded, Sammy…You mean…?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you.”

He was motionless for several seconds, then he let out a whoop that started the neighborhood dogs barking. “She said ‘yes!’” he shouted, picking her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck, swinging her in a circle.

“Congratulations, Delaney!” they heard a neighbor shout. “Tell her she’ll be sorry!”

“Oh my gosh, Dave, the neighbors…”

Dave was pulling the ring from the sleeve that held their picture. “Here.” He took her left hand, and slipped the ring onto her finger. Pulling her close, he stared into her eyes for a few seconds before he kissed her.

They didn’t notice Tyler, standing at the door to the porch, holding his Red Sox bear and smiling.

Mother’s Day dawned cloudy and cool at Bow Lake, and the comparative darkness helped the women sleep much later than usual. Jo woke up to her cell phone beeping with a message. Bleary-eyed, she struggled to focus on the time: it was almost ten o’clock.

“Oh, man…” Only partly awake, it took her a moment to remember that The Berry Crate no longer existed in her life, and that she was living in one of the most beautiful places on earth. She smiled as she stretched, deciding to check the message later. The missed call was from John’s phone, and she didn’t want to fall into her routine, muted depression so early in the day.

Daisy breathed softly beside her; Jo rolled onto her side, putting her arm over her as she did every morning.

“Morning, Daisy.”

The dog moaned softly, her tail thumping once. Jo could feel Daisy’s ribs, pressing up under her arm–she was losing weight. She held her a little closer.

This is the worst
, she thought,
the knowing and the waiting
. “The knowing you’ll be gone soon, baby. That’s the worst thing.” She kissed her ear. “But I want you to have the best days of your life right here. Okay? Hang on a little longer. We can do that, right?” She rubbed Daisy’s shoulders for a minute, then got out of bed, reaching for her sweats.

She stood at the picture window, which was strangely placed on the narrow wall of the spacious bedroom, but perfectly situated for gazing at the lake. As she did every morning, Jo studied the dwarf pine on the little island, thinking it may be leaning a bit. She considered again the idea that the legend of the woman who drowned in the lake could be true. It seemed more likely than not.

She recalled a movie she had seen years earlier, a remake of some disaster flick, where a man drowned at the end. The depiction of his death was graphic. It had reaffirmed her fear of water, and of drowning. Or being buried alive. In the papers she’d had drawn up after the divorce, she dictated that she be cremated. Terrified by the thought of waking up in a coffin, struggling for air, dying by inches–and fully knowing it was coming–she made certain that she couldn’t wind up there.

A few days before leaving for the lake, Jo called the lawyer who crafted her will for her, and they had engaged in a few minutes of small talk.

“I thought it was interesting, how insistent you were that you be cremated,” Alison said. “Did you always have that buried-alive phobia?”

“Pretty much,” Jo lied. It had started about six months into her marriage to Keith, along with an ever-worsening fear of driving–a phobia which had taken all of her will to conquer. She discovered, in the years after the divorce, that driving was a common fear among battered women.

She reached for her phone. “May as well get it done.” She winced as she listened to the Mother’s Day message from her sons.

Max was making the coffee as Jo padded into the kitchen. “Good morning, Bim.”

Max grunted. “Coffee.”

“Yeah. How’d you sleep?”

“Coffee first.”

They finished a cup in silence before Jo said, “Got my Mother’s Day greetings and salutations from the boys.”

Max looked interested, but didn’t answer.

“They said, ‘Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.’”

Max raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yup.” She refilled the mugs. “Lasted about five seconds, then they hung up.”

“Screw ‘em.”

Jo gave a startled laugh, feeling a twinge of guilt at Max’s expression of the thoughts she kept hidden. “I’m supposed to say that about my own kids?”

“Absolutely. Whatever the hell their childhood ‘issues’ are, they’re too old to use that excuse and besides, they owe you better than that. You just know that Keith and what’s-her-name…Shelly…”

“‘Mrs. Andleman’, as of yesterday.”

“Whatever. You know they’re slamming you every chance they get.”

“I know.”

“If Matt and John are weak enough to get sucked in, then I say screw ‘em. You were a great mother. Still are.”

She studied Max for a moment before she answered. “It’s pretty much what happens to kids who grow up like they did.”

“Why–
how
–do you manage to be civil with Keith, anyway? It doesn’t seem like you hate him, and
I
would. I barely know him, and I can’t stand him.”

“Actually, the biggest mistake I ever made was in thinking I had to pretend to get along with him, to try to give the boys some peace finally. I wouldn’t do it again.” She checked her mug, then grabbed the coffeepot again. “Need a warmup?”

Max shook her head. “You wouldn’t try to get along with him?”

“No way. I should have gone to war. Instead,” she paused, pretending she was looking for a spoon while she decided how much she wanted to reveal, “I did what the ‘experts’ always recommend: ‘Love your kids more than you hate your ex,’” she mimicked. “What a colossal blunder that was.”

“That’s a perspective I haven’t heard before.”

“All I taught them was that I had no sense of self-worth. And that there’s no justice. That someone like Keith can do whatever he chooses, and then pay it down in the end. No repercussions. No consequences at all.” She laughed bitterly. “He terrorized us, he almost
killed
me a few times, then he paid a hired gun to blackmail me into keeping him around for a few more years–but hey, no hard feelings. Life goes on. That sound right to you?” She slammed the drawer shut. “Where’s the lighter?”

Max pointed to the shelf beside the deck door. “I’ve wondered about that. From what I know, and granted, I don’t know that much about it, I can’t imagine not hating the guy’s guts.”

“It’s what they tell you to do.” She smirked. “The family court system is a huge machine, and the truth is, most family lawyers are completely sexist. They have a lot of contempt for battered women. And I mean, a
lot
. They just don’t like us. Most of the judges don’t, either, and we’re easier to deal with–more malleable–if we bend over and make nice.” She lit a cigarette, rolling it between her fingers, thinking. “There’s not a scintilla of difference between your garden-variety battering male and the FC system. On both ends, it’s all about the comfort level of people who want to use you. None of them have a clue about the reality of abuse.”

“What about the women?”

“Oh, please–the women are the worst. Especially the lawyers. They’re just the high-end version of the guy’s first post-abuse girlfriend, the kind who feeds her superiority complex on the back of a bleeding woman.” She caught the confusion on Max’s face. “What?”

“I’m just trying to understand the dynamics. Can I ask you something about Keith?”

Jo shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why did he want to keep you around anyway? He hated you.”

“Took me a long time to figure that out.” She opened the deck door to vent the smoke. “Initially, I thought it was because he was
not
going to be told to move out. And that was, actually, a part of it…” She seemed deep in thought for a moment, then she turned to look at Max, who was listening intently. “The real reason? He needed me. I was his mirror.”

“As in…” She frowned. “Not getting it.”

“All abusers do it. I swear they do. It’s like this: if he can define me as stupid, then he can define himself as intelligent. If I’m weak, he’s strong. If I’m gullible, he’s clever.”

“If you’re evil, he’s good.”

“Exactly. So you see, if I had gotten away, he would have had no way of defining
himself
.” She crushed the cigarette in the ash tray on the counter, her face hard. “I was his self-image. I was the thing he used to create himself.” She looked pained then, rubbing the back of her neck. “That’s why these guys go insane when they think their ‘mirror’is getting away. It’s like they’ll lose themselves. It’s a real life-and-death struggle for them.” She folded her arms as she returned to the table. “Know what the hell of it is? Realizing, in the end, that I–just
me
–I never even truly existed in his mind. I was like I said, a thing for his use. All the arguing, and manipulating, and surviving…and going crazy…I would have gotten the same response dealing with an inanimate object.”

Max pursed her lips, exhaling with a whooshing sound. “Wow.” She considered what Jo had just said. It made sense to her, so much so that she felt a little jittery. “You know, you just explained my parents to me.”

She nodded. “And I’ve wondered about
that
.”